The Ides of September

Paris - Gare du Nord

One of many trains pulled into the station. She lit a match and slowly brought it up to the tip of her cigarette. The flame fluctuated. She inhaled and let the warm smoke roll over her tongue. There was a cold light in her eyes, like dawn on an ugly morning. The colors of the environment seemed muted, grays and blues out of some surreal painting. That first hint of fall was in the cool, crisp air. A smile curled at her lips as she watched the train stop on the tracks. Her anticipation was building. She was here as more of a detached witness than a participant.

Suzette exhaled, a thin stream of smoke escaping her lips and then billowing into a wispy cloud as it moved away into the air. Coffee sat on the table in front of her, untouched. Her eyes danced over everyone, measuring them or dismissing them. Most of the players in today's drama had already arrived. The Russians had disembarked in twos and threes, staggered out over several trains arriving from Germany and Belgium. They were so easy to spot. They all wore new, expensive suits, yet they had no style about them. They wore their clothes like auto mechanics dressing up for a funeral.

The Paris police were here too. They had been tipped off about something big going down at the station. As her eyes shifted around the terminal Suzette could pick them out one by one. The measured, almost forced nonchalance of their posture. They dressed and tried to act like workers, but they didn't have the resigned carelessness of workers. She smiled to herself, the phrase 'a cop is a cop where ever you go' repeated in her head.

Here and there she spotted others, perhaps Council, perhaps Americans or even French. They were outgunned on every side and didn't even know it yet. Nemesis was nowhere to be seen. Whether he was dead or not, Suzette hadn't given a second thought. Her focus was on the game that was about to be played. She had thought the show Julian had taken her to had been the most exciting thing she had ever seen, but now she knew differently. Today's game was going to be played on a grander scale and every gun had bullets in it. All that was needed to get it started was someone to drop the needle on the record.

That someone was on the train that had just arrived. Kal.

She had a fleeting thought of warning him, but knew that wouldn't change anything. The game was going to be played no matter what he did. It had already progressed too far for it to stop now. As they say, the show must go on. Exhaling another cloud of smoke, Suzette reached for her coffee and took a sip. Her eyes watched as the passengers disembarked, innocently naive to the danger all around them. They were a mixed lot she supposed, dull tourists and businesswomen and men for the most part.

Then she saw him.

He stopped on the top step and put on a fedora. He adjusted the brim as his eyes moved over the crowd and then he started down the three steps to the platform. The needle dropped and the music began. Suzette felt her pulse began to race as she watched him move along with the others. She had forgotten how improbably handsome he was. He wore his old suit with an unconscious style like a man that clothes were made for. In any crowd he would stand out, she thought. He seemed to appear in bold colors to her against the muted blues and grays of everyone else. A beautiful destructive angel on a dark street.

She could almost hear the music playing as he walked towards the exit. Like a wave on a lake, his movement created ripples all around him.

All around the Mulberry Bush,

The monkey chased the weasel.

The monkey stopped to pull on his cock,

Pop! Goes the weasel.

And then the music stopped. Suzette's eyes shifted rapidly wanting to see who made the first move. If she had been betting, her money would have been on the Russians, but one of the others surprised her. A man broke from the crowd and made a beeline straight for Kal. She noticed for the first time he had something in his ear and a wire running down under his suit coat. When he got within ten feet of Kal, the man reached for something at the base of his spine. He never finished the move, as a bullet blew off the top of his head.

It was like being at a loud party where everyone is shouting and then the music stops. The sound of the bullet was the one that continued. Time halted for just the slimmest moment and then everything exploded into an orgasmic chaos of noise and violence. The first shot had been so clear, like the first chime of a bell. The torrent it unleashed was overwhelming, deafening in its volume.

The train station at the best of times was like an orderly fire drill, where the people moved in lines towards the exits. Now a real fire had broken out and those orderly lines dissolved into a mad panic to escape. Horror, violence and the prospect of imminent death usually don't bring out the best in people. Their more basic instincts take over. Flight is the usual response. Blind panic tells us to run, get out anyway anyhow we can. Other people suddenly become obstacles to our survival. Desperation overwhelms compassion. The ugliest side of humanity is laid bare.


Clark felt like he'd stepped off the train into a nightmare. When the first shot rang out he'd flinched like everyone else. His eyes went wide in horror as he watched the man tip and then tumble lifelessly to the concrete. There was no time to process it as more bullets hit all around him. He watched as the young mother standing in front of him was knocked off her feet and into his arms when another bullet tore into her shoulder. She had been holding hands with two young children but was ripped from their grasp. More bullets hit all around them.

On instinct Clark grabbed the two kids with one arm and carried them up the stairs of the train car along with their mother. They tumbled inside, even as the edge of the stairs dissolved into splinters under the hail of gunfire. Bullets ricocheted off the metal side of the train like heavy rain on a tin roof. Clark knew there was no chance to run, so he dove down onto the train car floor. The sound of police sirens and voices amplified through bullhorns mixed with the screams of passengers and hail of gunfire. Crawling on his hands and knees, the windows of the train car exploded all around him. He was a target, maybe even the principal target he realized. It was an ambush and he'd walked right into it.

It couldn't be the police; they wouldn't put so many innocent civilian lives in jeopardy like this. Who exactly it was, he didn't know and at the moment didn't care. Having recently been shot for the first time, Clark wasn't eager to experience again. All around him he could hear people dying and there was nothing he could do to save them. It seems death was still following him. Scrambling forward he knew he had to do something. The gun battle going on outside only seemed to intensify with each passing second.

If he was truly the target then perhaps he could draw them away from the main terminal. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. Cursing himself for being a damn fool, Clark reached the next car and the stairway to the platform. Taking one deep breath, he jumped down and then rolled underneath the train, emerging on the other side. He could hear angry shouts amongst the gunfire and knew they had seen him.

Dark tunnels branched off the main terminal, so he ran towards them, hoping they would follow.


Suzette sat completely still as the orgy of violence surrounded her. She felt like she was adrift on the ocean as a tidal wave came washing in. Most of the same emotions everyone else was experiencing went through her, but the most intense one was exhilaration. She had never felt more alive than she was at that moment. Her heart was racing, her breathing rapid, she felt almost giddy from the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

Julian had called this an adventure and it certainly was. All her senses seemed to be heightened as the world exploded into a blood bath all around her. Everywhere she turned her eye the carnage continued to unfold. The police had been caught off guard by the first shot, but now they were in a firefight. The Russians seemed to care little who they shot as if they intended to kill everyone. The other smaller factions along with the bystanders scrambled for cover.

She could hear more sirens in the distance fast approaching. Reinforcements must have been called in, as the situation slipped out of control. Movement from the train caught her eye and she saw Kal dive out and then scramble under the car. Suzette smiled as she watched the Russians then the police follow. She dropped the rest of her cigarette into the coffee cup and the started for the exit. All around her she could see men racing towards the tunnels.

The monkeys chase the weasel, she thought with a small smirk.


The tunnels were pitch black and Clark continued to stumble as he moved away from the main terminal. He could hear voices and then gunfire behind him. It seems they were following him. Hopefully that saved some of the people in the terminal. The only problem was that still left his life in jeopardy. Frantically he ran, stumbling and falling, but never stopping. He finally saw a light up ahead, but only at the last moment did he realize it was an oncoming train.

Diving into the blackness, Clark barely managed to get out of the way. He scrambled to press himself against the tunnel wall, as the train rushed by. It was metro train. That meant there were other platforms, other exits down the line. As he stood there, pressed against the wall Clark realized he wanted to live. He suddenly desperately wanted to live. He was horrified and scared out of his mind, but that one thought was foremost in his mind. He'd made a promise and he was damn sure he was going to do his all to keep it.

The metro train finally passed. Clark scrambled down the tunnel as fast as his legs could carry him. As the sound of the train faded, angry shouts and then gunfire erupted again. The loose gravel under his feet made it hard going, but he didn't stop. As he moved along the curved wall he finally saw a lightened platform just up ahead. He gave a sigh of relief, but then saw the police officers waiting.

By now the news of what was happening in the main terminal had to have reached them. Their guns were drawn and he had the feeling they would shoot anyone emerging from the tunnel. He was caught. Police in front of him and God knows who behind him. Inching his way along the wall, Clark stayed in the shadows as best he could. As he got closer to the platform, he could hear the police radios. The order had come in to evacuate the platform, as the gunfight was moving that way. Sweating madly, Clark pressed himself against he wall, trying to think of some way out of this. He could make a dash for the platform and hope they would give him a chance to explain, but that didn't seem like the best bet. He could turn around and go back, hoping he could slip by them in the darkness, but that seemed foolhardy. The rumble of another train approaching started from down the tunnel. He had been so panicked he hadn't heard the last one until it was on top of him. Curses in several languages reached his ears from the people behind him in the tunnel. Time was running out, he had to do something.

The train, Clark suddenly thought. Lunging across the tracks to the opposite side, he knew the policemen had seen him. They began to shout and then fire at him. He scrambled down into the darkness as the bullets got closer and closer. Finally the train rushed between him and the police. He had one chance at this. Clark began running along with the train. Every step he was sure he was going to stumble in the loose gravel and go head first under the wheels. Timing it as best he could, Clark made a desperate lunge towards the train and grabbed one of the railings as it rushed by. He was jerked off his feet and into the air. It felt as if his shoulder was being pulled out of the socket, but he held on. Lights from the platform flickered passed his eyes and then he was plunged into darkness again. Gritting his teeth in pain, he managed to get both hands on the railing and pulled himself onto the steps of the train car. Sweat poured down his face as he gasped for air. He'd made it.


The metro train slowed as it approached another platform. The chaos and violence was far behind. The cars came to a stop and the passengers began to get off. Clark straightened his suit as best he could and followed the others. His eyes darted around, looking for anyone that might be after him. Everything seemed calm, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Spying a Men's room, he ducked inside.

He walked over to the mirrors and looked at his reflection. His hair was a mess; sweat soaked his face and shirt, in short he looked like a man running for his life. He turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water over his face. His breathing finally came back under control. He reached for a paper towel just as the door to the Men's room opened. A large man in a brand new ill-fitting suit stepped inside and pointed a gun at Clark. He was a thick hard looking man and there was something in his eyes that let Clark know he was a killer. The man moved closer and gestured for Clark to raise his hands. Clark did.

"You've been more trouble than you're worth."

The man had an accent, Russian, Clark realized. So that's what this was about he realized. Clark was exhausted. He was going to have to fight this man, disarm him some how. Otherwise he would be dead in a Paris bathroom and that just wasn't going to happen. The man gave him a cruel smile. Clark just stared at him with utterly blank, empty eyes.

"Nothing to say?" the goon asked.

"Not with a gun on me."

"Is that a principle?"

"A habit."

"So no last words? Have it your way."

Clark closed his eyes and flinched as he heard the gunshot. It happened so fast he hadn't had time to move or react. He felt nothing, though. As he opened his eyes, he saw the man standing in front of him. He had a queer expression on his face, almost one of disbelief. Another shot reverberated off the cold tile of the bathroom and then the man dropped to the ground. Standing by the door, a gun still smoking in her hand was Suzette. She glanced down briefly at the dead man, but then moved over to Clark. She kissed him and then seductively smiled.

"Welcome to Paris, Kal."