Chapter 41.
The Auction.
"Just a little midnight hike. Nothing suspicious about this."
Oliver shushed her.
Sara tripped over a root and cursed, but Oliver caught her before she could hit the ground. It was dark out, an hour or so after sunset, and the only thing guiding their path was the faint outline of Richard Martin walking ahead of them.
"He has headphones in," Sara said, her voice barely audible.
Oliver said, "Never take anything for granted."
He led them along a hiking trail, deep into the forest. He turned twice down the less traveled path. In every direction, old-growth beeches and oaks stretched toward the black sky. It smelled fresh and free, like wildflowers. It was an unlikely place for a criminal meeting to go down.
Richard finally broke off the path, heading perpendicular to it. Oliver noted a pale orange marker around one of the nearby trees. It was harder to follow him after that, as they had to avoid patches of leaves and fallen sticks. He only went a hundred meters or so before he stopped in a clearing with knee-high grass.
Oliver and Sara crouched behind trees as close as they dared.
A few minutes later, several men arrived on the other side of the clearing, including the man that Richard had met with at the café. He was wearing a navy suit with a starch white bowtie. Half of them carried electric lanterns, lighting the meeting.
"Richard, I hope your walk was pleasant," the bowtie man said in French.
Sara looked at Oliver immediately, realizing she wouldn't get anything from this spying.
He focused on the conversation.
"It was. I have heard that listening to Beethoven while you exercise is supposed to help the rhythm of your heart," Richard responded, removing his earphones and tucking them in his suit pocket. "It is good to see you Francois, Paul, Victor," he said, nodding in turn to three of the men. He focused on the fourth one, smiling, "And it is nice to meet you…?"
"Call me Lucien," the man said quietly.
Richard was remarkably more outgoing now than he had been at the café. Maybe it was being the bowtie man had taken him by surprise – or maybe his whole boring, normal life was just a cover, and it shook him to have it interrupted like that. He seemed at home among these people, cheery even. Oliver wondered what kind of criminals these were.
The man with the bowtie came to stand beside Richard, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Gentlemen, this is a pricing presentation only. Richard, if you will."
Richard rifled through his blazer pocket and pulled out a small device. It was too far away for Oliver to see, but he had a sinking feeling it was a bomb.
He presented it to them, holding it out in his palm.
"I designed this over the last several months. It can be programmed to detonate up to twelve hours after activation. You fill the chamber with the agent you wish to spread, and it coats the components right before detonation. It can cover a radius of over 100 feet in the open air."
Oliver rocked back on his heels. Agent? Components? He had to be talking about poison, or some type of biologic – and the components were shrapnel. The possibilities were sinister. He could put a deadly poison in that thing and plant it in a crowded room. The shrapnel would weaponize it. Every person who got hit could be killed.
It was created for maximum casualties.
He was in his head for a while, listening absently to the men discuss auctions and other devices. Richard eventually put the bomb back in his jacket pocket, and the man with the bowtie announced that the details of the auction would be sent to everyone. He said he needed to make a few more adjustments with the guest list.
The men dispersed.
"Follow Richard Martin," Oliver said to Sara.
He walked along the outer edge of the clearing, his eyes on the man with the bowtie. He seemed to be the one orchestrating this event. Waller had to be the most interested in him. She went after big fish. But what would killing Richard Martin accomplish?
He wanted to know more, and he was going to start with this man.
He followed him all the way out of the forest, down a gravel walkway, and to a small parking lot. The man hopped into a car and drove off. Oliver committed the license plate to memory.
He was just turning to figure out where he was when something pricked his neck. He hit the ground, his limbs all giving in at the same time. The last thing he saw was the dark sky and the blurry stars, a figure leaning over him, and then there was nothing.
XxX
Oliver woke up feeling like he had been asleep for a hundred years. Or was leaning over him, fanning him with a magazine, and the smell of cinnamon suddenly made him nauseous.
"You were hard to wake up this time," she said.
He sat up, bracing an elbow on the low coffee table to make the room stop spinning. His memories of his unconscious journey were already fading, leaving behind impressions of the things he had seen. Just more pieces to a seemingly endless puzzle.
"I think we should stop for a few days," Or said.
Oliver shook his head, coughing when he tried to speak. His mouth and throat were dry. "How long was I out?"
"Six hours."
Six hours?
Oliver pressed his hand to his face, battling the nausea. "I have to go."
"Go back to the streets to fight the Juggernaut? In this condition?"
She looked worried. Every day she had grown more concerned about their sessions. But today she was spooked, like she had seen something new.
"What is it?" he wondered.
"You were thrashing around this time, like someone was attacking you. I think this is taking a toll on your body and your mind. Have you been sleeping?"
No.
"Yes. We have to keep looking. The only way we can beat him is to find a weakness, and I know the answer is in the past. It has to be."
"And what if it isn't?"
"I'll keep looking."
"You'll kill yourself," Or stated, crossing her arms.
He struggled to his feet, swaying. How could he make her understand the stakes here? She already knew the Juggernaut was killing people, that he was unstoppable and indestructible.
"If the answer isn't in the past, then… he may really be unstoppable. How do you fight that?"
Or was quiet for a moment. "You said you thought he might be someone you knew. Who did you know who could've become a monster?"
Oliver had a list of enemies, but none so powerful as the Juggernaut.
He simply shook his head, feeling defeated. He had accomplished nothing so far.
His phone rang. It was Diggle.
"Oliver? Where are you?"
"Patrolling. What's wrong?"
"The Juggernaut is down by the docks. He has someone cornered."
"I'm on the way."
Oliver rushed to the door, but before he could get his hand on the knob, Or grabbed his arm. He was surprised, because she had been sitting down just a second ago – and her grip was remarkably strong. She stared straight into his eyes.
"I think you should consider leaving Star City for good, Oliver… before you make a choice you can't take back."
"What does that mean?" It sounded like a threat, or like a prophecy.
But she was already turning away. "Go. It sounded urgent."
He lingered for a moment longer, her words a haunting echo in his head. He had no choice but to leave. What could she mean? Did she know something about his future? Was he going to make a catastrophic choice?