Chapter 11
"I didn't think we could afford a place like this," Brittany follows Quinn and me into apartment number 8 in a building across the street from the Louve Resident.
"We aren't paying Brittany; no one's going to know we're using the place since we'll only be here twenty-four hours. Besides, the owners are vacationing in the countryside and won't be returning for another month according to their returning tickets date."
It's the perfect place to set the plan into motion. We ditch our bags out of sight and I set up my computer on the marble table that is in the smack center of the luxurious living area.
"Santana," Quinn calls for me and then Brittany to listen to her – here goes the grand plan. "I can't believe we came so ill prepared, and damn if I had time to research first on my computer system, and we have so little time now…." She trails off and rakes a hand through her hair roughly. For the first time Quinn has nothing to say, no instructions to give, nothing.
"We have to know if the bombs are already planted" I try to take this meeting somewhere; we have to get our game together and soon. "Who has the detonator? Where is Beth this very minute? If we figure some things out we'll rely on experience to get Beth out." Winging it is always risky but there isn't any other option. I don't know how convincing I sound but some ones got to take the lead. With that I settle down to my computer and begin scourging every page linked to our target. Brittany explores the place while Quinn just stares out the window.
I'm doing a backup check on Pierre Louve and anyone associated with him. He's a hot shot and has as many friends as he does enemies. It's going to take me too long to pinpoint the perpetrator and it might not even be necessary – all we need is Beth.
Quinn announces she'll be back within an hour. She says she needs to get a good look at the streets surrounding the house and hopefully find a way into the Louves' property.
"That's a start," Brittany returns from her exploration just as Quinn closes the door. She plops down beside me, "I think we should get someone close to Beth, it'll be easier to protect her no matter what the conspiracy is."
I only half nod to that as I've just hacked Mr. Pierre's personal email account. There isn't much, mostly forwards from his secretary, Anna.
"A reply to a dinner invitation," Brittany breaks my concentrated scanning, "sounds promising."
I open the message Brittany is referring to and read the short confirmation. Then I click back to the invitation. It's for a fancy year end meet at a sky restaurant. Tagged to the invitation are some twenty most important figures of today's alternative energy providers. I still don't see how this is relevant to our situation.
"Brittany, help me out here. How does this relate? What do we know?"
She quickly lists off the facts we have so far, "The bomb is in the house. It definitely happens in the morning before Beth leaves with her chauffer to be taken to the private boarding school she goes to. I saw her dressed in her school clothes. It's perhaps a coincidence that the bombing happens while Beth is still there - or not, depending on who we think is behind this. We still don't know who the target is or why the house is being bombed."
"Ugh, this is going nowhere, I've been at this for an hour and none of those questions are answered." I get up, frustrated that things aren't moving faster. I try to arrange the puzzle pieces in my mind again with the scenic Seine River as the background but I still come up with nothing.
"Relax Santana," Brittany covers my eyes from behind so I don't see anything. All I can feel is her behind me and the wind coming through the open window. "I'm sure Quinn will find something," Brittany continues to whisper in my ear as I lean into her and smell the foreign yet fragrant perfume on her neck. She drops her hands off my eyes and I open them to the wonderful sight that is Brittany's sky blue eyes staring at mine. For a moment I forget that we're here to stop something terrible from happening. I forget about Quinn and Beth and the bomb and let my mind wander to how romantic this could be. We're in Paris, the city of love. I'm in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. It would only be ideal to make the most of our stay.
I'm about to lean in and close the last few centimeters between my lips and Brittany's but unexpectedly, the front door opens and closes with such force that we both jump apart.
"Gees, Fabray! Are you trying to alert people that we're illegally occupying this space?"
"I've got news," Quinn ignores my snarky question and sits at my computer. Brittany joins her immediately so I let it slide. "The house is totally high security but there's something strange going on." Quinn types repeatedly while ignoring mine and Brittany's questioning stares. "See, here." Brittany and I lean in to look at what is on the screen. Its five ten smaller screens, all picturing a part of the Louve house – inside and out.
"What are we looking for Quinn? Wait, why is the light not natural? Its five o'clock now and in this screen I see lamp lights; I didn't see them go on."
"That's because they aren't on yet, this is fake footage. Clearly someone is preparing the way for something to happen and they don't want anyone seeing it."
"How did you know Quinn?" I ask, wondering how she could have found out something like this without having any prior knowledge.
Quinn gives me a smile and winks, "I'm not a super secret agent for nothing. I found out a lot of things just by strolling around their property."
I'm still waiting for the answer and Quinn knows it so she relents, "The camera's, they weren't turning. What functioning camera doesn't move?"
"I bet it's an insider," Brittany speaks suddenly and it comes to my attention she hasn't said anything since Quinn introduced her information.
"What do you mean Britt?" I encourage.
"It's true anyone would be able to pull that off but why do it now? Security, which I'm sure there are a lot of them, would at least be suspicious. I mean, if we figured it out it'd be easy for them too. On the other hand, if it was someone on the inside that was in charge of the cameras or something then it'd be all good. No one would know. And they'd be able to do whatever they needed to do like plant bombs whenever they wanted, probably after they went to a fancy dinner or something because they'd have to get ready and wouldn't have time to switch the camera channels…."
I'm more than shocked at how everything seems to fit. Quinn on the other hand is still trying to process what Brittany just suggested.
"I'm sorry, but what am I missing?" Quinn asks.
"The plan Quinn," I answer before Brittany can, "you're missing the plan. That is Brittany and I am going to a very fancy dinner party and you are going to do some more snooping while watching out for your daughter."
Brittany beams excited that we're finally getting our act together and hopefully getting closer to saving Beth.
"But,"
"Quinn, let me break this down for you real fast." I say because I'm worried we won't make it to the seven o'clock dinner on time. "I found out via email that Mr. Pierre is hosting a dinner for his rich colleagues. Thanks to Brittany's brilliance, I think his top security man will be there too. If we can get a hold of him, we may be able to intercept the bombing."
Once it's clear, Quinn hurries us to get ready. We all know it takes forever for a girl to get dressed for these types of events so our one hour limit is really pushing it.
"We have to get you a gorgeous dress San," Brittany walks fast and looks at every shop - Quinn told us there was a tailor up the street so that's what we are looking for. I'm certain we already walked past it when Brittany pauses and walks back a few shops. Sure enough in the display of an old-fashion clothes store are a few dresses that are certainly royal family material. I should know.
Brittany walks me in but surprisingly doesn't stay. "Don't worry San; just wear the ear set and mic. Get a gorgeous dress and get your hair done. I want you to look so good I'll want to fuck you from across the room." She says the last part in my ear with a deep, husky voice and I almost turn into jelly. Before I know it she's gone.
Getting a dress was simple enough, all I had to do was tell the designer what type of dress I wanted and what color. It was like one of those virtual "dress yourself" machines – punch in your specifications and out pops your order. Except I wish it was more like that, less interaction. I was the girlfriend of the most powerful man in the country once and that image doesn't fade easily. Even with my lightened skin-tone and straight hair – there was always a chance of being recognized.
A few shops up the street there is a salon. I have approximately half an hour. I order my hair to be done up in the fashion of high-reaching mistresses.
Brittany wants me to look fuckable so that's what she's getting, maybe I'll even get something out of it. Not that I'm looking to get laid but it's been a while and recently I've had to restrain myself from doing anything with her. Willingly of course, why would I make things harder for her? I've waited for this long already; I can wait a little longer. God, if Brittany gives me 'the look' tonight it's going to be hard for me to resist. Hold it, what am I thinking? We have a job to do; this is not a game and ….Brittany? Where in the world did she disappear to? I'm already doing a bad job at being a girlfriend. How am I supposed to protect her when I don't even know where she is? I can't even contact her! I'm such an idiot for letting her out of my sight. I promised to not let that happen.
I couldn't have been gladder when my hair was finished. I was a sight indeed with my hair pulled back from my face and piled neatly on top of my head. I suddenly remember that I need make up too. My watch says I don't have time but ….Quinn.
I barge into the apartment to find Quinn going through our weapons.
"It's about time you showed up. I hope you look as good as Brittany because if I were a guy I'd definitely do her." Quinn doesn't turn around when she says it.
"So she was here?"
"Yup, come and gone. You are behind schedule."
I'm relieved that Brittany isn't MIA but I have a real dilemma on my hands.
"Quinn, you have to help me with make-up!" It was out there. I don't like to admit it and hell to Quinn for that matter, but I'm not that great at fixing my face up with a million powders and sticks. If she doesn't help me I have a serious problem.
"Ok Santana, I don't know what's more pathetic, the fact that you're already going to be late or that you can't do your own make-up."
I'm already starting to regret I told Quinn. I'm never going to hear the end of it now.
"Shut it. Of course I can do my own make-up but just not for occasions like this. Here, you tell me what look I should go for and I'll apply everything myself."
Quinn shakes her head, grabs my wrist and sits me down. "You worry about other stuff like getting into the dinner party and I'll fix your face."
It's only a few minutes but it feels like forever. It's different being this close to Quinn and not having the urge to say something snappy or hit her or both. She's concentrated as she accentuates my eyes with black lines and finishes with painting my lips with a beige color. She looks me over once and then gets up "you're ready."
Quinn helps me get dressed quickly and makes sure the gown drapes off my shoulders just right. She smiles and I assume she approves of my choice.
I follow her to our bags to pick the last things I'm missing. She attaches my earpiece properly and gives me the mic which I attach to my bra. Then she places two eight shots with silencers in my hand.
"Take care of Brittany ok?"
I tuck the guns in the bands squeezing tight around both my left and right thigh and let my long dress drop over them, concealing the guns completely. I don't need to be told, there is no way I'm letting anything happen to Brittany.
As predicted, I'm late. I was lucky enough to have gotten a cab driver who knew where the place was and it didn't take much coaxing to make him get me there in double time, who would deny the good graces of a rich aristocrat?
Inside the hotel lobby I wander around waiting and taking in its splendor. Quinn said Brittany would contact me when the time was right and I was getting nervous that something might have happened. She should have found me by now. I reach the opposite side of the ground floor and try to take my mind off all the situations that could happen. I've always had an eye for art, and I can tell I'd love this place if I was here on a different type of visit. The place has got this stylish, half 21st century half renaissance look and feel. Artifacts and rare works of art adorn this corner and that corner – purposefully grabbing ones attention as if each were a movie star in its own right on the red carpet.
I stop walking when an expected yet unexpected crackle sounds in my ear. It begins with static but clears till I can here Brittany's voice.
"Do you hear me San?" I can hear my heart beating to the sound of her voice; I didn't think I could be so glad to hear her again. "Yeah" I reply, "I can hear you."
She pauses for a second and I hear another person say something to her. I want to ask her where the hell she's been, what she's been doing and why she didn't tell me but my thoughts are interrupted when Brittany gives me an instruction, "San, go to the bathroom in the lobby, under the farthest plant pot you'll find your pass."
"Got it," I reply and click my heels hurriedly to the woman's bathroom sign I'd seen just a minute ago.
Its right where Brittany says it is although it's not what I expected. I quickly put the plant in its place and shuffle to the elevator. I press the button for the 56th floor and while I jet up I examine the business card in my hand. It says Plexus Corporation and has some strange abstract logo to go with the equally non-informative company name, great. At least there is a person's name printed in fine, thin type that says 'Serena Ferrera- vice president'.
With the ding of the elevator the door opens. Soft music fills my ears as I step out into the softly lit reception area. It's practically empty save a few waitresses scurrying in and out of the restaurant with expensive wines and wine glasses. On the glass doors leading into the dining area I make out the words 'LE CIEL DE PARIS'.
"How may I help you?" A tall woman in a business suit asks as I approach; she doesn't even look up from her clipboard.
"Ms. Ferrera," I give her my name. "Please hurry up with your ticking, the traffic was bad enough and I would rather not wait any longer." I make sure my tone is confident and demanding; I want her attention.
A small smile plays on her lips as she looks at me directly without the slightest fear. It takes a moment for me to register, and then Quinn's words come back to my mind. I'd do her. God, I'd do her a million times.
She clears her throat awakening me from my unintentional stare, "in that case, let me show you to your seat." She winks and leads me to a table at the far end of the room. She mentions that it has the best view and I would have noticed how breath taking it really was if it weren't for the view I was getting in my face from her swaying hips.
There are two men already seated at the table for three but I can't tear my eyes away from her. I've never seen her looking like this before. Hair tied up taut, suit pressed and so smooth water would slide right off. Her eyes are sharp and crystal clear, the lipstick she wears is bold – and her smile, it is unforgettable. She walks away and I'm brought back to reality. But clearly I am not the only one infatuated with her as one of the other men, who is wearing a leather jacket, still has his eyes trained on her form receding into the hallway. I hate him already.
"Ms. Ferrera?" I quickly change my death glare to an amiable smile as I put my hand out to grasp the hand of the other, suit donning man who is none other than Mr. Pierre Louve.
"Yes," I reply warmly, "I'm honored to meet you Mr. Louve."
"It's my pleasure," he waves for a waitress to come and pour me wine while the other man sits stiff in his seat and stares at the opposite wall, "So unfortunate that Mr. Poiter is not well but you are certainly a beautiful representative."
I feign a smile this time not really caring that he finds me attractive. What's more interesting is the man in the leather jacket with the crisp face, sharp chin and perfectly groomed crew cut. I watch him from the corner of my eye while Pierre continues to speak.
"…my secretary Vanessa was sick today so Anya, her assistant, is standing in. I'm sorry if there have been any inconveniences." I catch the last part and watch him begin eating his Caesar Salad. The other man follows suit immediately. "Everything has been perfect," I reassure him and fiddle with the end of my spoon, deciding if I should start eating too.
I can't. I have to talk to Brittany. Perhaps she already knows, she set all this up. But at least I should warn her just in case.
"Pardon me," I say in French, "I must use the ladies room. I will only be a moment." Pierre seems surprised at my sudden change of language but waves me off to do my thing.
The moment I slip through the glass doors, making sure no one's eyes are following me, I scan the area for Brittany. She's not anywhere in sight. "Brittany," I'm careful not to raise my voice, "where are you?"
"In the bathroom San, I was just about to check in with Quinn. Is everything ok?" the words echo so she must be in the same place I'm headed. "I'll meet you there."
Brittany is leaning on the sink counter when I step in. She gives me a smile then deliberately sweeps her eyes over me from my head to my toes. I don't know what she's thinking but I'm still suffering from word loss.
"You better not step any closer Ms. Ferrera, I'm trying hard to contain myself." She puts her hand up and it makes me laugh. I can count on Brittany to lighten the mood in the midst of a serious situation. "I was practically eye-sexing you from across the room." She chuckles.
"Well Anya," I play along but drop to a serious tone, "I should say someone else besides me has an eye on you."
"I know San, don't worry I think this is a really good opportunity."
"For what?" I feel my eyebrows furrow. I'm not quite sure if I heard correctly.
"To get close to him, gain his trust. He could be the key to finding out about Beth. I have a feeling."
I shake my head, Brittany can't be serious. The only thing she'll be gaining is the key to a hotel bedroom with him waiting inside. "No Britt, I'm not letting you. And I'm not even saying this as your 'girlfriend' yeah, remember? I'm…"
"…calling Quinn." Brittany says with pursed lips and brings her phone to her ear. I roll my eyes. Does she not care how I feel about this? Does she not know what she's getting herself into?
"Hey Quinn, I need a quick update."
I watch Brittany; she's listening to the voice on the phone intently.
"Yeah, we've got some great developments here…" I grab the phone before she can say anything else. I'm running out of time and I need Brittany to hear me out. "Quinn, here's the short version. I currently have our suspect under watch, he's got a thing for Britt and she wants to take a chance with him in hopes she'll get information. I say it's too risky." The other end is silent and I figure Quinn is processing what I just said "it's our only option right now Santana, I've been keeping an eye on Beth from the outside but if we want to go in we have to know more…."
I hear enough. "No, I'm not letting Brittany do it. I'll do it if I have to." Frustrated, I hang up on Quinn. Brittany lets out a sigh and puts her hands on her hips in a stubborn stance as she walks away from me.
"I don't have time for this," I say exasperated and step up to Brittany, taking her hands in mine, "I don't want you to get hurt… please…" I drop her hands abruptly and distance myself just as the bathroom door swings open. An older lady walks into one of the stalls and locks the door all the while I wash my hands and hold Brittany's gaze in the mirror hoping she sees how scared I am of losing her right now. She nods and I know that's all I can do to convince her for the moment.
I take my seat at the table again and force myself to stab some lettuce with my fork and eat it. I know of other things I'd rather be stabbing – a heart would be nice. Oh no, I'm sure the bastard doesn't have one. Well, maybe I should lure him outside and blow out his brains. That would feel good, but it'd be too merciful. A hundred ways of painful torture pop into my head as I continue to smile and direct compliment after compliment at Pierre. He's a good man, he doesn't deserve to die, but then neither did my parents, Brittany's parents, the American Ambassador to China or a host of other innocent people. They die while people like this guy dust their hands off and take on the next bloody assignment waiting for them. And to think I used to be just like him.
I'm sick to the stomach and really have no appetite. Pierre looks a little disappointed when I refuse to eat dessert but I make up for it by ordering take home – Quinn might have forgotten to eat and I know Brittany's been on duty the whole evening.
The man in the jacket excuses himself and I hear his voice for the first time. He croaks and I just want to shove acid down his throat so I never have to hear him speak again.
I get up and extend my hand to Pierre. "Thank you for the lovely evening; I enjoyed your company very much. On behalf of Mr. Poiter, I can say we're quite positive your proposal will pass the board. Your project is one of the most interesting and lucrative ones that have been presented to us within the last five years." He takes my outstretched hand and shakes it firmly. It's clear he's happy with the outcome of the pitch he's been making all evening as he thanks me for my time and states how he hopes to work with Plexus Co. in the future.
As I gather my clutch and walk out with Pierre, the other man comes back and speaks with him softly. With my trained hearing I pick up that he's asking Pierre if he can go home without a guard tonight. Some of the bastards buddies have invited him for a drink. Pierre pats him on the back and tells him to take the night off. He's happy with that, too happy for my liking.
Once again I tell Pierre I've had a lovely evening and then say goodbye. I'm relieved when I'm out of his presence, and am now free to keep my eye on Brittany.
I try to find her but everyone starts to filter out of the restaurant at the same time which makes it harder for me. I try to talking to her since I'm having no success spotting her.
"Where are you Britt?" I whisper as I stand in a corner away from the crowds. I don't get an answer and in the pit of my stomach I feel that there is something terribly wrong. What if she went with him? What if he just took her? Why didn't she tell me? I know the answer to that one – because I'd say no. I have to find her; it's not safe for her to be with him alone. I know Brittany is a brilliant agent but for Christ sake, he's an agent too and he's bigger. He could easily hurt Brittany. Oh my God, how did I let this happen!
The details, everything I know, runs through my mind like a bolt of lightning. Where could they be going? The camera's they're still switched to the fake images which means he'll probably have to go back to the Louve's house tonight to finish up his dirty work. This place is a hotel too right? I saw people's baggage in the lobby. If I were him I wouldn't go far. I'd use the most convenient place. I'd stay right here.
As fast as my feet can take me I run to the elevator and press the button for the ground floor. It feels like hours till the doors open to the lobby. I walk as fast as I can to the counter but stop in my tracks, I don't know his name – fuck. How will I know which room he's in if I don't know his name? I think quickly. Quinn, I can call her, I still have the phone. I walk off to a secluded part of the lobby as the most recent number dials and Quinn picks up.
"I need your help Quinn, and I need it fast." My head is spinning and I'm exhaling hard from getting all worked up. "Do you have the names of the guards registered in the Louve household?" Quinn tells me to wait and I can hear her shifting, I also hear the wind. Is it possible Quinn is spying in a tree? How typical is that? "Hurry up Quinn! Brittany is in trouble!" I say again hoping it'll make her find the name faster.
"Got it!" she says and by the flipping of pages I hear, I assume it's in her trusty red little notebook she keeps on her at all times. That book is sure to have a lot of secrets. "You need the name of the bodyguard right?" she asks and I answer positively. "Ok, Dawson. His name is Kent Dawson."
"Thank you Quinn!" I hang up with the words, "don't you fuckin' let Brittany get hurt Santana!" ringing in my ears.
I walk up to the reception and ask calmly for a Dawson.
"We don't give out that kind of information Madame, I'm sorry." The desk boy smiles apologetically and I just want to slap it off his face. He's not making things easy at all.
I switch to French and explain I'm Dawson's mistress and he called me to spend the night with him. While I say that, I quickly change Quinn's name in the contacts to 'Kent Dawson.'
"See here," I continue to purr as I hold the phone up for him to see, "He called me three minutes ago."
The boy looks at the phone and finally relents, "go to room 1304."
I try to walk to the elevator as fast as I can, and curse under my breath that it's only on the tenth floor coming down. I don't have time, everyone is in my way. It finally dings and I wait for a young couple to get out before I get in and slam the 13. If I thought the ride to the 56th floor was long, the ride to the 13th was longer. It finally dings again and I get out and walk straight for room 1302 next to the room Brittany is in.
Fifteen minutes later the crackle starts in my ear again and I hear a husky voice speak as if trying not to be heard, "room 1304. I'm sorry for not telling you first San. You would have tried to stop me."
"Baby, I'm on the balcony." I respond and I can almost hear her smile.
Thank you to my wonderful readers, your words inspire me to keep writing
