Chapter 5
Harvey Franklin, the transit driver, laughed out loud and heartily, Young grinned as Harvey laughed at the story that he had just told him. Decker who was reading a novel, smiled secretly, as he tried to pretend he was not listening in on the conversation. Everyone was feeling exhausted from the journey they had travelled, somehow Harvey had managed to slip through Customs and Excise even though he carried three illegal, hunted terrorists, wanted by the international authorities, in his lorry. Decker thanked God that the customs officer had a nicotine habit and was familiar with Harvey and his friends.
Harvey was a black man in his late fifties. He had short grey hair with a bald spot and receding hairline. His face that was once chubby and round had worn thin and lined with age. Harvey had grown a scruffy stubbly beard, some stubble around his jaw and chin had grown longer as he had missed or forgot to shave there. It reminded Decker that he needed to shave or trim his now fairly long beard. Every time Harvey laughed at one of Young's stories, he showed of his crooked row of cigarette stained teeth. He chuckled and coughed in his deep Caribbean voice.
"…I'm tellin' you Harv that's what the stupid bitch said." Young said smirking like a Cheshire cat. Decker hated the way Wayne always shortened people's names, Decker became Decks, Harvey became Harv. Young also gave people stupid nicknames, he always called Decker "old timer" and "gramps", and Decker detested this, as it reminded Decker of his age. Decker suddenly realised he was criticising again he seemed to always do this around Young, he did not know why, age had probably made Decker grumpy and too judgemental or maybe Decker secretly wished his was Young's age again.
Decker and Young sat in the cab with driver, Harvey Franklin, whilst Erin slept on a small seat behind them. For miles they had been driven, past countless bare fields and farmland on the long straight stretch of dual carriageway. Every field was similar; the surroundings seemed to be on a repetitive movie reel playing over and over. Occasionally there would be a old neglected farmhouse, made of crumbling stone and dark brown roof with half the slate missing showing the naked wooden timbers or an old French oak tree, grey and rotting, occupying a single empty field, bare of leaves due to the winter. Decker thought France was similar to the open farmland of the American country. Young was chatting to the driver about sport, and who he, thought would win the National Football League, as Decker stared out at the boring, bland, featureless countryside.
Just as the blue and white road signs started to read Paris 10 kilometres the lorry indicated left and drove into a service station pulling in-between a group of similar transit lorries.
"This is as far as I can take you," said Harvey "The authorities are too strict around the capital and pull over every lorry to check for any passengers travelling illegally."
"Thanks for risking the journey." Young said appreciative, shaking Harvey's plump hands.
"No probs, bro. Good luck y'all."
Getting into Paris was becoming a problem; they sat and waited by the exit of the Service Station trying to flag down cars for a lift into the city. It was nearing midday and they managed to hitchhike in a businessman's saloon car, he dropped them off inside the city. Luckily he knew where all the roadblocks were and where MJ12 troopers made random car searches. He avoided them, not to aid the three passengers he had sitting in the back, but to save himself time getting to work. The three of them made their way to the nearest Metro station, the Parisian underground train network, and stood looking at the interconnecting coloured lines on the underground map searching for Marias or anywhere near that suburb.
Hiding behind Decker, Erin and Wayne awaited for their train tickets. Decker approached the small ticket booth embedded in the tiled wall and was greeted by a chirpy young man behind the thick transparent screen.
"Oui, Monsieur. Je peux vous aider?" The man in the ticket booth asked quickly.
"Err…Je voudrais… trois aller simple, pour Marias, deuxième classe, s'il vous plaît."
Decker mumbled trying to disguise his foreign accent.
"Ah, oui." The man said.
"C'est combien?" Decker asked.
"C'est quatre-vingt-cinq credits. Il part à onze heures quinze. Quai F." the man told Decker. Decker only picked out a few words "85 credits", "At eleven o'clock" or something similar and "F", the rest was too quick and confused him.
Decker nodded and snatched the tickets quickly as they slid underneath the screen.
"Au revoir, monsieur." The man said after Decker paid, Decker did not reply, he just took the tickets and walked through the bustling crowd.
The cabins of the underground train flashed past as the train screeched to a halt, all around the platform stood Metro police officers, dressed in light blue uniforms and wearing mirrored sunglasses they stood at the edges of the crowds looking in at any suspicious characters. The three of them were somehow overlooked even though they shuffled across the ground looking at the floor and trying to avoid the officer's gaze.
There was a loud shout and through the crowd came seven officers, batons flicked out and extended. Through the crowd of awaiting passengers they pushed all they way to the trio's position. Decker flinched face a wash with shock and fear. Erin closed her eyes in expectance. Young froze in a fighting stance.
A man in front of them was thrown to the ground and restrained. Decker looked down as the man head hit the floor at his feet and screamed out French curses. The officers smacked the struggling man on the legs to calm down his thrashing, flailing limbs. He groaned as they handcuffed him and pulled him to his feet. The other officers held back the crowd as the man was dragged off. Decker's body relaxed from its alert state but he stood their confused and slightly dazed.
"Excusez-moi Madame!" the officer apologized sincerely to Erin who had been bumped into by the officers. She smiled weakly and they all boarded the crowded train.
The train pulled out of the platform and churned through the dark tunnels. Decker sat opposite Erin and Young next to a middle aged businessman, he was reading the inside of a newspaper, a section on the terrorist group Silhouette. On the walls of the cabin were small pamphlets and posters on criminals and terrorists wanted by the international authorities. Decker read one.
INTERPOL WANTED: J.C. Denton
Interpol is currently seeking the whereabouts of known terrorist J.C. Denton. Denton is wanted for a number of international crimes including theft, murder, money laundering, drug trafficking, and destruction of property. Denton was last believed to have been sighted in New York, but recent information indicates that he may currently be operating in Paris.
Denton is approximately six feet tall, with silver facial tattoos and solid blue eyes - the result of a rare genetic condition that he often conceals with a pair of sunglasses. Denton is extremely dangerous and should NOT be approached. Instead, if you believe you have seen him, contact your nearest police or security representative. There is currently a reward of c10, 000 for information that leads to his capture or arrest.
Interpol is also attempting to locate Alex Jacobson and Jaime Reyes for questioning in a number of related incidents. No descriptions are available at this time, but will be posted as they become available.
Decker shivered; soon his name and description would be plastered around Paris. The train squealed to a halt and everyone disembarked. The followed the crowds to the surface being helped along by the pushy French citizens in the early morning rush to get to work. The three of them stuck closely together trying not to get separated. The managed to find their way to a small café and sat around the circular table next to the wall were they could talk in secret and would not be heard.
Decker knew were the arms dealer lived; Smuggler had e-mailed the address as they arrived in France. They ate and studied a small tourist map of the streets working out the quickest way of getting there. For a few hours they sat eating a breakfast meal of croissants, hot chocolate with cream, and pain au chocolat.
Around the busy square stomped Bravo-3 Peacebringer security robots, scanning the surroundings. Darkly uniformed soldiers walked around in pairs, Majestic Twelve troopers. The city was under military control. They decided to leave, walking down through the alleyways and crossing the wide multi-laned roads. It was nearing mid-afternoon when they managed to find the arms dealers house. The sky had quickly clouded over and thin drops of rain started to fall. The street was quite busy in black unmarked vans sat Majestic Twelve troopers awaiting the first sign of trouble. They would come back later; Decker felt it was too early and dangerous. They retreated and sat on a small bench eating again, sharing a baguette; trying to save credits.
Decker lead Young and Erin back to the street and they approached the tall house identical to the rest. Decker pressed the buzzer on the door and waited patiently. A small crack appeared at the side of the door as it was slowly pulled open on the safety chain.
"We're looking for Le Corbeau." Young said as the person behind the door looked at the three strangers standing on the doorstep. "We're here to do business with him, we are friends of the American known as The Smuggler." Young continued.
"Une moment." Came a reply, then the door shut and the sound of a heavy-duty lock sliding back across the door echoed through the door. Erin looked around, noticing a small disguised surveillance camera had been watching them from above. Of a period of around three minutes the door re-opened, halfway.
"One at a time, la petit fille first." The person at the door instructed. Erin wearily stepped into the dark doorway at the door immediately shut behind her. Then, a few moments later Young was asked to enter which he did quickly, as if to find what had happened to Erin. Decker was left standing awkwardly at the doorstep, in the open street. He could feel his stomach knotting. Decker stood trying to listen to whatever was going on behind the door, then, the door opened startling him.
A man stood at the side of the hallway as Decker stepped in. He was a medium build, although slightly muscular, with short spiked black hair and a stubbly beard. The man's skin was slightly yellowed in appearance and he had dark brown rings under his eyes. The man was armed with a customised assault shotgun, the barrel had been extended to reduce the spray of the pellets. He was also head to toe in body armour, a big thick plated vest and pads covering his legs, upper arms, and groin.
"Stand against the wall and drop the bag." The man ordered. Decker placed his bag slowly next to his right foot and spread his arms out to the side.
"Good." The man gave his shotgun to a female colleague who had appeared out from behind a curtain. She aimed the gun at Decker's face as the man patted Decker down and turned out his pockets. "'E iz safe, collect your possessions and follow me."
The man disappeared behind a thick worn curtain; Decker hurried and collected his belongings, walking through the rippling gap in the curtain where the man had disappeared. The woman followed closely almost pressing the barrel of the shotgun in his back. Everywhere seemed to be lit in a dull light, even though the sun had not set yet outside. Decker was lead through a pair of elegant double doors where Young and Erin sat near a wide, dark coloured wood writing table, which had a patterned surface decorated with tulipwood and green-stained sycamore. The evening sunlight pierced through a slit in the curtains, creating a fiery orange stripe down the centre of the room cutting across the table.
"Take a seat please." The man said. Decker sat down in the slightly uncomfortable gold painted chair that forced him to sit in an upright posture, Decker was more accustomed to the ergonomically designed chairs of the 21st Century, than an old wooden chair. He looked over to Young who was holding Erin's hand. They sat facing a huge empty chair across the other end of the table awaiting "Le Corbeau". The doors opened again, none of them dared to turn round and see who walked in.
A man sat down in the chair at the writing table. He was a mixed race man, with a shaven head, he eyes were a dark brown, almost black and he held a cigarette between his thick lips. The man was dressed in a tight black jacket with a black polar-neck jumper underneath. Obviously the man they were here to see.
"So?" the man asked.
"Are you "Le Corbeau"?" Decker asked.
"Oui. I am the one known as "Le Corbeau", my name is Jacques Adélie. You are?"
"Decker Parkes, Smuggler said…" Decker was stopped as Jacques smiled.
"Ahh…Smuggler how is he these days?" Jacques smiled.
"He is…" Decker started.
"Cut the crap! Can you supply us with arms? Yes or no?" Erin shouted startling both Decker and Young; she even took the arms dealer by surprise. His smile had dropped, and his face turned serious.
"Patience my dear and learn to hold your tongue, otherwise I will have my good friend Mr Rota, take you outside." Jacques snarled. "Henri, ask Ave, if she could prepare some drinks for our guest?"
The man who had let the three of them in was the man known as Henri Rota. He nodded and left the room. Decker watched Henri leave the room then turned back to Jacques who had placed his wrists down on the table and sat there with his hands cupped. "So Madame, what would you like to buy?"
The conversation was fast and snappy, Young sat back and watched as Erin bantered with the arms dealer, trying to get the cheapest weapons, even cheaper. The arms dealer, Jacques, pulled out a selection of handguns and explosives, some had obviously taken from Majestic Twelve soldiers and had the serial numbers scratched off. Erin's knowledge of the current weapons available helped her spot the arms dealer's devious offers. She knew what she was talking about and what she was aiming to get.
Ave, the woman who had held the shotgun to Decker's back supplied them with a small snack of pâté on crackers and biscuits and glass of red wine, they accepted gratefully as they had been almost starved on the journey over. Decker sat quiet throughout the transaction; he looked around the room noticing most of the decorative furnishings had been slightly damaged, for they had been stolen from upper class homes in the riots and protests, during the martial law.
Eventually, Jacques gave into Erin's constant, repetitive and annoying stubbornness and supplied the three of them with three handguns and a few LAMs. "You may come back when you have more credits… Do you have a place to stay?" Jacques asked. The three of them shook their heads uttering the word "No." Jacques looked up at Ave who seemed to say something with a strange look.
"Well, I would offer a room here, but there is no room. I do know a local hotel in which you can stay. It is pretty safe, and quite luxurious. You may have to pay a lot of money, because you are…foreigners." Jacques stood up from the desk as walked around it. "Please follow Henri to the car."
Henri walked swiftly through the curtain and they followed him from the chairs. Decker was stopped by Jacques who put his had firmly on his shoulder. "I understand from the Smuggler, you are an expert in setting up security systems." Jacques whispered. Decker nodded "I may have work for you, if you would like to join me."
"Only if you employee all three of us, Young is a good fighter and Erin has an in-depth knowledge of weaponry, demolition, and specialist equipment." Decker replied. Jacques nodded and squinted as if in deep thought. "We shall speak tomorrow, now come, to the car."
Outside, a saloon car waited running the engine, Erin and Young sat in the back. Jacques got in the passenger side and Decker joined his friends in the back. Decker smiled. "What's up?" Erin asked.
"I may have found us all an employer." Decker whispered. Jacques who was in the front heard this and smiled, he was already planning what would happen to his three new members.