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The halls of the small hotel were quiet in the evening hours. The only occupants were a pair of women that stood in front of one of the doors, fiddling with the key while their bags sat on the blue woven rug.
They were pretty enough and looked up with a smile as two men passed by. Keplan shot a wide smile in return and one fluttered her eyes. He kept walking.
The other man at his side wasn't particularly memorable: muddled hair parted just to the side, faded blue eyes ruined by puffy bags underneath. Greg was a loyal man though, and wasn't too bad with words. Keplan would have come alone under normal circumstances, but it wasn't their first stop.
His step paused outside their target and he knocked. Surprisingly enough the door opened within moments and a pair of eyes glared back at him with contempt. If Jack had heard first, he knew the man wouldn't have let the teen answer the door.
"Hello," he responded to her silence with a smile.
"What do you want?" Hannah crossed her arms and leaned back on her heels.
A movement caught his eye and Keplan looked past her to see Jackson in the suite hall with a look equally as apprehensive. He must have known they needed to talk however, as he wasn't telling the girl to slam the door in his face.
Jackson's gaze shot to Keplan's companion, "He stays out."
Keplan couldn't argue with that and motioned for the man to wait outside. Hannah looked back at Jackson for approval and stepped out of the way when he gave a nod of approval.
"Hannah, go to your room for a minute. We won't be long."
She visibly flinched at the childish command, but obeyed regardless. Keplan closed the door behind him and Hannah disappeared behind her own, leaving the two men in the room. Jackson didn't offer the visitor a seat.
"Nice place," Keplan remarked, taking in the space.
It was classy, but not overdone. Definitely more for the tourists, but he imagined they preferred a bit of luxury while they could get it. Two rooms down a narrow hall. Kitchen, dinette. Briggs had always provided well when it came to Jack. The thought made him press his lips tight in efforts to constrain the scowl.
"It's late, Kep."
The man glanced at the microwave. 1:13. He hadn't wanted to wait until morning to make the trip, or the offer.
Another step through the room and Keplan looked back to the girl's closed door, a glint in his eye at the thought of them alone in the hotel. He knew Jack had no interest, but it still posed for an interesting situation.
"I never took you as the type," he implied with a nod in her direction, baiting. But Jackson gave little reaction. He seemed tired.
"What do you want? Other than make assumptions that you have no business with."
Keplan smiled to himself. "I believe I do," he corrected, keeping his voice low. Despite Jackson's casual lean against the wall, he was certain the man was paying full attention. Neither of them wanted to be there.
"They wanted us to take her tonight. Hannah," Keplan clarified. "Under Briggs orders."
It came out of left field and the look on Jackson's face easily displayed the conflict. The blue eyes narrowed on him once again, "What the hell are you doing, Keplan?"
What was he doing? There were times he wondered himself. "See, I kinda like those two. They have…spirit."
The comment wasn't doing much to help Jackson's opinion of the man in front of him and he only tilted his head, evaluating, jaw tense and eyes skeptical.
Keplan wasn't to be intimidated and continued, "I'd rather not see them shattered like all the rest of us casualties."
He eyed the couch that sat against the wall nearby and it was looking better with every moment. There was no reason he couldn't make himself at home.
"I know about the plan," he remarked with an amused tone as he took a seat. The chair was plush, a little too plush.
"Any fool could see they are holding them above your head over this and the chance of failure is…well," he paused, judging Jackson's expression. There was no doubt the man wasn't pleased about the situation Briggs had put him in. Put them both in. "You know the odds."
"We suck it up and deal with it, Keplan," Jackson stated, trying to convince himself more likely.
He was all business, from his stance, his clothes, shoes. Keplan was well aware of the drill. Jackson was resisting the urge to ask how Keplan knew, but there was no reason to give up the mystery in their relationship.
"That's what we were trained for," Jackson continued. "And that's exactly what I am planning to do, so unless you have any useful suggestions…"
"I do, in fact," Keplan interrupted and the room went quiet. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. There was no trace of a smile anymore. "Have a suggestion that will, for a lack of a better term, make this all go away."
The suggestion seemed ridiculous, even knowing the details.
"A hit's been called on Briggs."
The blue eyes flashed angrily, but Keplan knew Jackson wouldn't find any lies here.
"That's impossible," Jackson defended a little louder than intended. "Only the Commission can make that call on each other and they would never…"
Keplan shook his head and leaned back in the seat again. It was a tiring charade, the back-and-forth dealings and middle-play. And he also knew the man standing in front of him had grown weary of it all long before he had.
"We both know that Briggs and Harrison have been at odds for years now. It was only a matter of time before he convinced the others that this decision would benefit the rest of the company," Keplan confirmed. "There is too much at stake for her to be setting down the final say when it comes to getting this job accomplished."
Jackson looked away first. Of course he hadn't questioned her about the others. Why should he? Their job was to sit back until the orders came. Get things done when they needed to get done, get paid, and life continued on as normal. Whether the details came from Briggs, Harrison, Evans…whoever else, the word of one was the word of all…
…until now.
"She took it too far," Keplan stated simply, as though that were good enough.
"She's doing what is best…" Jackson tried to explain, but Keplan was quick to cut him off.
"…For herself. Imagine the power she would acquire if you were to accomplish this."
Keplan rose to his feet. The man had to be made to see sense. He was an asset to whatever side he chose, and at the moment Keplan needed him on theirs. "And if you were to fail…"
He stepped closer, voice hushed with sincerity and Jackson looked back to him with just a hint that his irritation had decreased. "…all the better. You'd be a problem dealt with. Everyone knows this wasn't the first time you've given them reason. It's the price you have to pay for compassion."
"Keefe was going to be my last assignment," Jackson hissed back, shoulders tense. "There's nothing logical to gain by losing my service now."
"Then why did she offer the payment?"
Jackson looked surprised, and worried despite his attempt to conceal it. His moves were being watched. From the steps onto hospital grounds, to the shopping plaza, to the shitting in private. The degree even surprised Keplan about what they knew.
Things would have been more convenient if he had just left them all to the mercy of the infected.
"Oh yes, I know about that too. One more job, Donovan, and then what? She lets you go to drink and be merry and fuck those little cherry lips that are sitting in the hospital right now?"
Eyes darkened and Keplan knew he was taking it too far. His intention wasn't to lose Jackson. Not anymore.
"Something about this shit is off, and you know it," Keplan added, driving the point home.
People were not logical creatures by nature, but he had a point. They always had a plan. Jackson just wondered what Keplan's was. There was truth in the man's words.
"I don't take kindly to sales pitches," Jackson stated clearly.
Keplan only smiled. "You wouldn't have listened to me for so long unless somethin' was nagging you in the first place."
The room was lit by a single lantern by the couch and the illumination reflected in Jackson's eyes as he stared at it. The glass bowed out, opening at the top to expose the yellow bulb. It wasn't a lot, and he almost debated flipping the switch in the kitchen.
"I'm offering you a chance, Jack."
Little Jack Jelf was put on a shelf, because he could not spell 'pie.'
"All you have to do is say yes, and play along with us here in the big leagues."
The tone wasn't condescending, but Jackson didn't appreciate the comparison. Keplan was the last person who needed to be telling him to play along.
"Who knows, we might even throw in a new bat."
Jackson's teeth clenched and his fingers pulled into a fist. It was all he needed, more reminders of London. Still, he forced his tongue to respond, "When do you need an answer?"
He focused on anything but the other man in the room. The copper door handle, the polished wood of the coffee table, the closed blinds over the window where the curtain had been drawn tightly. Jackson's hands went to his pockets and he felt paper crinkle.
"The flights are on Sunday. You keep doin' your thing like normal. Talk to whatever contacts you have in mind, start with arrangements. That's what you're good at after all, right?"
Jackson remained silent, so Keplan continued, "Me, I'm going to be mostly out of sight until then. Give me a ring when I need to know the details."
Keplan started for the door and Jackson was all too eager to let him out. Greg was waiting patiently on the other side.
"We'll meet at the Tasse de The at the corner of Verge d'or and Clermont. Nice little café, highly recommend it for any occasion if you are in town."
Tea and biscuits: ironic. Jackson's hand lingered on the cold metal of the handle, "Back to normal, like the Empire never fell."
Keplan didn't respond, instead tossing a nod back to Hannah's room, "Keep an eye on those girls, because everyone else sure as hell is."
He turned and started down the vacant hall, joined by his companion as the door shut in their wake.
Jackson remained standing at the closed doorway, hand resting on the casing and eyes downcast. He clenched his jaw. The dominoes had been started and all that could be done was to wait and let them finish falling. He could be patient, but it didn't come naturally.
"What was that about?"
He didn't turn at the sound of Hannah's voice. She had been listening, but he had expected it. There was a sigh, his eyes narrowed on the door handle and Jackson pushed away, making his way to the kitchen.
"If anyone else comes don't answer the door without getting me first," he said harshly as he passed her by.
Jackson opened a cupboard and pulled a glass down. There were streaks in the clear plastic and he glowered. For the price he paid for the room the least they could do was provide proper drink ware. He turned on the tap and filled it.
"Are you like James Bond, or Ethan Hunt, or something?" Hannah questioned eagerly with more curiosity then condemnation.
"No," Jackson answered truthfully.
He would have never made a good agent. Come to think about it, he had never made a good assassin either. It was far too romanticized…and he rarely ever got the girl.
"I'm just the guy that tells them what to do."
He turned off the faucet and walked out of the kitchen. The liquid was cool down his throat. He had debated going back to the hospital, but there wasn't a chance he would leave Hannah alone now. Not after that.
She was still standing just at the edge of the hall, leaning at the shoulder with one hand in her pocket. The corner of her lips turned up just a little as he took a seat.
"Cool."
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