13. Family matters
The next morning Pick woke up as he felt Sandrine leaving their bed.
"Where are you going?" he asked her as she was silently slipping away.
"To the bathroom!"
Van Cleaf got the feeling she was somehow upset. He could only think of one reason.
"You are glad I did not stop, aren't you?"
Sandrine stopped and turned slowly, then she met his gaze. He saw that she was not happy.
"Actually - I wished you had."
While she went out and locked herself in the bathroom. Pick did not move an inch. It had been a while ago since he got the feeling of the claws of death tightening around him. What should he tell his friend? 'I was forcing her down, also she asked me to stop, but in the end I'm sure she enjoyed it - or better secretly she wanted it.'
Fouchon would shoot him the same instant. Maybe he was too worried, but he was too proud to ask her. If she was not aware of holding his life in her hands yet, Van Cleaf would not make her. Pretending he was not concerned at all he dressed himself and packed their stuff together. He had not to wait long for Sandrine.
With an observing eye on every motion of hers they walked outside. Van Cleaf was so concentrated on the girl he did not realise the two man waiting for them until they stood right in their way. One of them was Boudreaux, he did not recognise the other one. Both raised their weapons and so did he. Pick herd Sandrine deeply inhaling. The he realised that the one he did not knew was aiming at her. It must be Sandrine's stepfather - Agent Mosley.
He pushed the girl behind the next parking car while he started shooting with his left hand and moving behind cover on his side.
"Sandrine - Stay down."
Boudreaux was obviously surprised by the action of his partner. By the time he started to shoot, Van Clef had already taken cover.
"I didn't recognised her - oh my god - what happened to her?"
"I get him and you get you daughter out of here," Boudreaux was annoyed and angry. He did not like his partner, but it had been the last chance for him to get those guys. He thrived Pick away with another salve.
Hoping that her father would not harm her with Boudreaux around, Van Cleaf turned his attention to his current adversary. Both caused severe damage to most cars parking on the left side of the hotel's front door. Finally reaching the corner of the street both were running low on ammunition. It was time to change strategy.
"Boudreaux - how nice of you to come by and pay a visit."
"I couldn't just leave you two alone," Chance replied counting his bullets.
"That's right - I know you wouldn't want to hurt my feelings."
Boudreaux answer was firing another clip empty.
"This is rather pointless, why don't you come out and we deal this like grown men should do."
"You first!" yelled Chance.
Van Cleaf threw his weapon on the street and carefully watching Boudreaux he arose behind his car. Chance lowered his weapon. He wanted to kick Van Cleaf's ass down the street since their first meeting. Now he had the chance. They stepped right on the side street. Just as Boudreaux was pulling his gun into his waistband Pick grabbed his second gun from his back and shot him right between the eyes.
Van Cleaf picked up his other gun from the street and stepped over to Boudreaux. "I said like grown men and grown men use their brains and not their fists."
Then he hurried to their car which parked at the other side of the street. It was time to get Sandrine and met their contacts.
In the meantime the girl had fled to the other corner. She did not want to join her father before, but as he shot at her the last link between them broke. There was a yard full of large white bed sheets and covers. The wind blew through them making it hard to see. Without hesitation she ran into the labyrinth-like-place driving some white doves off.
"Sandy - Darling please," Agent Mosley tried to argue. "Everything will be alright, just come to daddy."
"Yeah sure," Sandrine thought, "I will be alright as soon as I get rid of you."
This was the moment when she really wished that Pick would show up. She had heard the shoots in distance on her way, then the awful silence and a single shot. No time to worry about Pick - he could for sure take care of himself. Sandrine tried to reach the other side of the maze - hoping to find an open door. Her father was close behind her and she was not covered by the wailing sheets.
Then she found the side entrance of the hotel, but it was locked. Without thinking any further she fled on the street, maybe to find another place to hide. She reached the little side street.
"Sandy."
Mosley's stepdaughter turned around. Her father was the corner of the street. He shook a little bit straightening his hands. In one of them he hold his weapon. Like frozen she stood there and watched him slowly raising his gun. He was aiming at her, it seemed to Sandrine that he was moving in slow motion.
Both were so focused that none realised the car moving with increasing speed towards the agent until it hit him. Like a puppet, Sandrine's stepfather flew over the street crashing into a parking Volvo. She saw that Pick was behind the wheel turning the car. So she walked over to her stepfather. He was still conscious. She kicked his weapon away from him and crouched beside him.
"You must not believe what he told you - I raised you - I'm your father," he babbled out both in physical and emotional distress.
That was the final piece of the puzzle Sandrine tried to solve during the past days. Suddenly she saw it all clear.
"Thank you - stepfather. Until now I was not sure what he had in mind." She smiled. "Actually I always hoped that one day my real father would show up."
"No, no", he uttered.
Sandrine's voice became colder, now she could make him pay and if not for all those days she had spend with crying, then for taking Tessa away from her.
"I had so much fun during the past days and even more last night. You know - I'm really looking forward to spend more nights with my father's right hand."
Then she got up and left him behind. She did not even felt satisfaction about his pathetic whimpering. In fact she felt nothing at all. While she went towards the car she passed Pick who was approaching her father. He looked wondering what Sandrine might have told him. Van Cleaf almost felt a little disgust looking at this feeble object at the edge of sanity.
"According to Sandrine you could have made it easily to 'the worst father ever', but I guess without you - we would never have get this close. Even better is I will have the opportunity to fuck your stepdaughter." Pick's smile went really nasty. I was like pulling a trigger when he added. "Just like last night."
Then he turned away, surprised that destroying Mosley instead of killing him felt equally good. In the distance he heard the mad, helpless howling. As he started the car, Sandrine was deep in thoughts on the co-driver-seat. After some time Van Cleaf's good mood vanished regarding to the tense silence. It was still his neck under the guillotine.
"He is my father, isn't he?" Sandrine suddenly asked.
"Yes, he is," Pick answered. He had no idea how she figured this out. At least for Fouchon this episode turned out to be good.
Suspecting something and knowing something where two different things. To her it was more than good news. Suddenly she had to think about her mother's last words. She must have meant Fouchon, she had not been fully conscious, but now this would made sense after all. Especially because Sandrine always had the feeling that her mother wanted to tell her something important.
Fouchon could not be worse than her stepfather, also he might be a criminal, he obviously wanted to protect her from harm.
"He wouldn't be happy about last night, would he?"
Van Cleaf had seen this coming, but he would be damned if he give it away. With a neutral tone he replied. "As I told you - he most likely will kill me."
"I don't intend to let him know."
"You don't?"
Sandrine sighted. This was hard, but if she did not tell him, he could get the wrong idea about her.
"You know what was the last thing I told my father? I told him about last night - and that I was looking forward to do it again. Then I realised that I really meant it."
"What a mean perception," he said with a truly satisfied smile. Pick felt Sandrine's disappointment. "You know what's funny? - I told him the same." A few seconds later he added: "And I meant it, too."
They looked at each other for a short moment. Sandrine showed a reserved smile, still feeling uncomfortable about her own feelings. Van Cleaf on the other hand had no problem showing that the stars were shining very bright on him.
Than they reached the harbour, where a smaller boat waited to take them to the yacht, which was already on high sea. The guy who drove the boat did not understand English, which gave them the last opportunity for a little chat.
"You seem nervous," Pick said.
"I am nervous! You do not meet your real father every day and especially not after he kidnapped you twice and almost killed you."
"He was also very concerned about this - he had not any idea that you hated your stepfather that much or that you already knew he was not your real father."
"You should better tell him that I know," Sandrine suggested.
"Why don't you tell him?"
"Yeah good idea! I start right with - Hi daddy nice to meet you!"
"Why not?"
"I don't know - I just ... Maybe because father was always something negative for me and I spend a lot of time imagine how wonderful it must be without one."
"I see your problem," he replied.
Sandrine desperately wished that he would put his arms around her making all her thoughts go away for a while. She wondered if he would do this, in case there was no danger of being seen together. The girl had no illusions about their affair being romantic or anything like it. At least she hoped it would be a little more than just occasional sexual encounters.
"How is your shoulder?" She asked remembering his injury.
"A bit stressed, but nothing to be concerned about, "he smiled at her. "You know - I was just thinking how much you have changed since Fouchon saw you."
"Yeah you're right - What do you think he's going to say?"
"I think he will be delighted to see that your ideas about dressing are far away from what he saw."
Sandrine leaned back. She decided not to worry too much. On a sunny day like this there where much better things to do. The wind was cool, not chilling but refreshing. This was almost like a twisted fairytale - with the dark lord keeping her save from the white knight and taking her to his realm.
An hour passed before the yacht came into sight - and what a sight she was. Sandrine could not believe what she saw: "It's larger than I expected."
"She suits our client," Pick replied.
"One of those hobby hunters?" she was surprised.
"Yes - one of those!" He smiled "What did you think? That every little broker could afford our service?"
"Actually, I did not think about it at all. So - tell me. How much for one of your hunting trips?"
"500,000 Dollar!" Van Cleaf replied.
She gasped: "Half a million? - Just for chasing an old man around and shooting him when he is too exhausted to run any further? Either your clients are bored beyond imagination or they have too much money!"
Pick chuckled. He did not mind that she could not understand the delicate aspects of their business ventures. The fact, that she seemed to have accepted the nature of their business so fast, made him smile.
"Well - those wealthy and bored clients made your father also very rich."
"I guess I have to live with it," Sandrine turned her gaze from the yacht to Pick and smiled back. Their boat docked on. Three man with the identical white trousers and shirts were busy on the deck. One of them helped Sandrine on board, while Van Cleaf was looking at her.
"She is sarcastic - very good," he thought handing their bags over. The small boat left as soon as he had climbed at deck. The crewman introduced himself as Marek. He told Van Cleaf that Fouchon wanted to see him right away and that he was supposed to show Sandrine her room. So they followed him under deck. The crewman led them into a huge living room.
The mahogany decor was no doubt very expensive. With a bar in one corner, a sofa with a large wooden table against the other wall, a flat television screen and most likely much more behind the many doors Sandrine had no doubt it offered anything you could ask for.
"Mr. Van Cleaf - through this door. The next door to your right is the office," Marek explained pointing towards an amber glass door. He turned and gave Sandrine a sign to step through the opposite door. A short corridor was behind. Passing two other doors Marek opened the one at the end. The girl stepped into the most luxurious bedroom she ever laid eyes on.
"If you need anything call me, drinks and some snacks are in the living room," Marek told her. "By the way the other door leads to your bathroom. Have a nice time, Miss."
The crewman left and also she knew it was childish, she had to try the bed, which was for two persons and looked really invitingly. On her knees she jumped on it, before she turned and lay flat on her back. This was her idea of comfort, even for two the bed was huge. Thinking about Pick she wondered whether he felt comfortable right now.
The next morning Pick woke up as he felt Sandrine leaving their bed.
"Where are you going?" he asked her as she was silently slipping away.
"To the bathroom!"
Van Cleaf got the feeling she was somehow upset. He could only think of one reason.
"You are glad I did not stop, aren't you?"
Sandrine stopped and turned slowly, then she met his gaze. He saw that she was not happy.
"Actually - I wished you had."
While she went out and locked herself in the bathroom. Pick did not move an inch. It had been a while ago since he got the feeling of the claws of death tightening around him. What should he tell his friend? 'I was forcing her down, also she asked me to stop, but in the end I'm sure she enjoyed it - or better secretly she wanted it.'
Fouchon would shoot him the same instant. Maybe he was too worried, but he was too proud to ask her. If she was not aware of holding his life in her hands yet, Van Cleaf would not make her. Pretending he was not concerned at all he dressed himself and packed their stuff together. He had not to wait long for Sandrine.
With an observing eye on every motion of hers they walked outside. Van Cleaf was so concentrated on the girl he did not realise the two man waiting for them until they stood right in their way. One of them was Boudreaux, he did not recognise the other one. Both raised their weapons and so did he. Pick herd Sandrine deeply inhaling. The he realised that the one he did not knew was aiming at her. It must be Sandrine's stepfather - Agent Mosley.
He pushed the girl behind the next parking car while he started shooting with his left hand and moving behind cover on his side.
"Sandrine - Stay down."
Boudreaux was obviously surprised by the action of his partner. By the time he started to shoot, Van Clef had already taken cover.
"I didn't recognised her - oh my god - what happened to her?"
"I get him and you get you daughter out of here," Boudreaux was annoyed and angry. He did not like his partner, but it had been the last chance for him to get those guys. He thrived Pick away with another salve.
Hoping that her father would not harm her with Boudreaux around, Van Cleaf turned his attention to his current adversary. Both caused severe damage to most cars parking on the left side of the hotel's front door. Finally reaching the corner of the street both were running low on ammunition. It was time to change strategy.
"Boudreaux - how nice of you to come by and pay a visit."
"I couldn't just leave you two alone," Chance replied counting his bullets.
"That's right - I know you wouldn't want to hurt my feelings."
Boudreaux answer was firing another clip empty.
"This is rather pointless, why don't you come out and we deal this like grown men should do."
"You first!" yelled Chance.
Van Cleaf threw his weapon on the street and carefully watching Boudreaux he arose behind his car. Chance lowered his weapon. He wanted to kick Van Cleaf's ass down the street since their first meeting. Now he had the chance. They stepped right on the side street. Just as Boudreaux was pulling his gun into his waistband Pick grabbed his second gun from his back and shot him right between the eyes.
Van Cleaf picked up his other gun from the street and stepped over to Boudreaux. "I said like grown men and grown men use their brains and not their fists."
Then he hurried to their car which parked at the other side of the street. It was time to get Sandrine and met their contacts.
In the meantime the girl had fled to the other corner. She did not want to join her father before, but as he shot at her the last link between them broke. There was a yard full of large white bed sheets and covers. The wind blew through them making it hard to see. Without hesitation she ran into the labyrinth-like-place driving some white doves off.
"Sandy - Darling please," Agent Mosley tried to argue. "Everything will be alright, just come to daddy."
"Yeah sure," Sandrine thought, "I will be alright as soon as I get rid of you."
This was the moment when she really wished that Pick would show up. She had heard the shoots in distance on her way, then the awful silence and a single shot. No time to worry about Pick - he could for sure take care of himself. Sandrine tried to reach the other side of the maze - hoping to find an open door. Her father was close behind her and she was not covered by the wailing sheets.
Then she found the side entrance of the hotel, but it was locked. Without thinking any further she fled on the street, maybe to find another place to hide. She reached the little side street.
"Sandy."
Mosley's stepdaughter turned around. Her father was the corner of the street. He shook a little bit straightening his hands. In one of them he hold his weapon. Like frozen she stood there and watched him slowly raising his gun. He was aiming at her, it seemed to Sandrine that he was moving in slow motion.
Both were so focused that none realised the car moving with increasing speed towards the agent until it hit him. Like a puppet, Sandrine's stepfather flew over the street crashing into a parking Volvo. She saw that Pick was behind the wheel turning the car. So she walked over to her stepfather. He was still conscious. She kicked his weapon away from him and crouched beside him.
"You must not believe what he told you - I raised you - I'm your father," he babbled out both in physical and emotional distress.
That was the final piece of the puzzle Sandrine tried to solve during the past days. Suddenly she saw it all clear.
"Thank you - stepfather. Until now I was not sure what he had in mind." She smiled. "Actually I always hoped that one day my real father would show up."
"No, no", he uttered.
Sandrine's voice became colder, now she could make him pay and if not for all those days she had spend with crying, then for taking Tessa away from her.
"I had so much fun during the past days and even more last night. You know - I'm really looking forward to spend more nights with my father's right hand."
Then she got up and left him behind. She did not even felt satisfaction about his pathetic whimpering. In fact she felt nothing at all. While she went towards the car she passed Pick who was approaching her father. He looked wondering what Sandrine might have told him. Van Cleaf almost felt a little disgust looking at this feeble object at the edge of sanity.
"According to Sandrine you could have made it easily to 'the worst father ever', but I guess without you - we would never have get this close. Even better is I will have the opportunity to fuck your stepdaughter." Pick's smile went really nasty. I was like pulling a trigger when he added. "Just like last night."
Then he turned away, surprised that destroying Mosley instead of killing him felt equally good. In the distance he heard the mad, helpless howling. As he started the car, Sandrine was deep in thoughts on the co-driver-seat. After some time Van Cleaf's good mood vanished regarding to the tense silence. It was still his neck under the guillotine.
"He is my father, isn't he?" Sandrine suddenly asked.
"Yes, he is," Pick answered. He had no idea how she figured this out. At least for Fouchon this episode turned out to be good.
Suspecting something and knowing something where two different things. To her it was more than good news. Suddenly she had to think about her mother's last words. She must have meant Fouchon, she had not been fully conscious, but now this would made sense after all. Especially because Sandrine always had the feeling that her mother wanted to tell her something important.
Fouchon could not be worse than her stepfather, also he might be a criminal, he obviously wanted to protect her from harm.
"He wouldn't be happy about last night, would he?"
Van Cleaf had seen this coming, but he would be damned if he give it away. With a neutral tone he replied. "As I told you - he most likely will kill me."
"I don't intend to let him know."
"You don't?"
Sandrine sighted. This was hard, but if she did not tell him, he could get the wrong idea about her.
"You know what was the last thing I told my father? I told him about last night - and that I was looking forward to do it again. Then I realised that I really meant it."
"What a mean perception," he said with a truly satisfied smile. Pick felt Sandrine's disappointment. "You know what's funny? - I told him the same." A few seconds later he added: "And I meant it, too."
They looked at each other for a short moment. Sandrine showed a reserved smile, still feeling uncomfortable about her own feelings. Van Cleaf on the other hand had no problem showing that the stars were shining very bright on him.
Than they reached the harbour, where a smaller boat waited to take them to the yacht, which was already on high sea. The guy who drove the boat did not understand English, which gave them the last opportunity for a little chat.
"You seem nervous," Pick said.
"I am nervous! You do not meet your real father every day and especially not after he kidnapped you twice and almost killed you."
"He was also very concerned about this - he had not any idea that you hated your stepfather that much or that you already knew he was not your real father."
"You should better tell him that I know," Sandrine suggested.
"Why don't you tell him?"
"Yeah good idea! I start right with - Hi daddy nice to meet you!"
"Why not?"
"I don't know - I just ... Maybe because father was always something negative for me and I spend a lot of time imagine how wonderful it must be without one."
"I see your problem," he replied.
Sandrine desperately wished that he would put his arms around her making all her thoughts go away for a while. She wondered if he would do this, in case there was no danger of being seen together. The girl had no illusions about their affair being romantic or anything like it. At least she hoped it would be a little more than just occasional sexual encounters.
"How is your shoulder?" She asked remembering his injury.
"A bit stressed, but nothing to be concerned about, "he smiled at her. "You know - I was just thinking how much you have changed since Fouchon saw you."
"Yeah you're right - What do you think he's going to say?"
"I think he will be delighted to see that your ideas about dressing are far away from what he saw."
Sandrine leaned back. She decided not to worry too much. On a sunny day like this there where much better things to do. The wind was cool, not chilling but refreshing. This was almost like a twisted fairytale - with the dark lord keeping her save from the white knight and taking her to his realm.
An hour passed before the yacht came into sight - and what a sight she was. Sandrine could not believe what she saw: "It's larger than I expected."
"She suits our client," Pick replied.
"One of those hobby hunters?" she was surprised.
"Yes - one of those!" He smiled "What did you think? That every little broker could afford our service?"
"Actually, I did not think about it at all. So - tell me. How much for one of your hunting trips?"
"500,000 Dollar!" Van Cleaf replied.
She gasped: "Half a million? - Just for chasing an old man around and shooting him when he is too exhausted to run any further? Either your clients are bored beyond imagination or they have too much money!"
Pick chuckled. He did not mind that she could not understand the delicate aspects of their business ventures. The fact, that she seemed to have accepted the nature of their business so fast, made him smile.
"Well - those wealthy and bored clients made your father also very rich."
"I guess I have to live with it," Sandrine turned her gaze from the yacht to Pick and smiled back. Their boat docked on. Three man with the identical white trousers and shirts were busy on the deck. One of them helped Sandrine on board, while Van Cleaf was looking at her.
"She is sarcastic - very good," he thought handing their bags over. The small boat left as soon as he had climbed at deck. The crewman introduced himself as Marek. He told Van Cleaf that Fouchon wanted to see him right away and that he was supposed to show Sandrine her room. So they followed him under deck. The crewman led them into a huge living room.
The mahogany decor was no doubt very expensive. With a bar in one corner, a sofa with a large wooden table against the other wall, a flat television screen and most likely much more behind the many doors Sandrine had no doubt it offered anything you could ask for.
"Mr. Van Cleaf - through this door. The next door to your right is the office," Marek explained pointing towards an amber glass door. He turned and gave Sandrine a sign to step through the opposite door. A short corridor was behind. Passing two other doors Marek opened the one at the end. The girl stepped into the most luxurious bedroom she ever laid eyes on.
"If you need anything call me, drinks and some snacks are in the living room," Marek told her. "By the way the other door leads to your bathroom. Have a nice time, Miss."
The crewman left and also she knew it was childish, she had to try the bed, which was for two persons and looked really invitingly. On her knees she jumped on it, before she turned and lay flat on her back. This was her idea of comfort, even for two the bed was huge. Thinking about Pick she wondered whether he felt comfortable right now.
