Decker Parkes Chapter 6, a deus ex fanfic

Chapter 6

From: GenericMail883Net.2342.09238

To: 328.2133.1230

Subject: Friend in Need

Date: Wed, 27 Nov 2052, 18:23:12 -0600

You helped me and some friends out recently. That transaction was business, but you still did me a good turn. I don't forget that.

I heard through channels that there's some bad stuff coming down on you - don't know why, people I talked to just said it had to do with a guy named "J.C. Denton". I haven't heard of him, but someone wants him dead, cold in the ground. Personal reasons.

And your name has come up.

Fair warning. Watch your back.

Decker

These were the words Decker typed as he sat in the back seat of the vehicle. Jacques was driving, he was taking them down the Boulevard of Lenoir, which was rowed with tall white elegant houses, some scarred with damage from the numerous riots and demonstrations against the martial law. The saloon car sped down the almost dead street. The martial law time limit was nearing as the sun started to disappear against the silhouette of the Parisian buildings.

Henri stopped the car and Jacques turned around in his seat. "This is it the Citadines hotel." Decker looked out of the window across the street at the grand hotel. From far away it looked luxurious and upper class, but Decker saw it was now in a dire state. The three got out of the car Erin said "Wow!" and Young just looked up at the building. The car sped back down the road taking a right hand turn leaving them on their own, in a strange city.

The sign read Citadines in big elegant letters just above APART' HOTEL which was in white capitals on a faded green stripe underneath. The sign was slightly lopsided where someone had thrown a projectile at it. The two white and plum coloured columns either side the decorative double doors were scarred with anarchistic graffiti, and the two windows above the sign were boarded up.

What was once an upper class hotel had now turned into a drop in Bed and Breakfast in a dire state of repair. The hotel was vast, over one hundred apartments and a private underground car park used by government officials and the occasional celebrity, but the great depression and political chaos that hit the great city, forced the owners to abandon the hotel in fear.

The suburb of Marais had been hit with some of the worst riots and looting in Paris. The working class citizens were attacking both the police and middle class in a mad, angry frenzy after hearing international word of the Ambrosia vaccine. Knowing that the citizens were not confident with President Bourges-Maunoury's administration, activist groups like SCHUSE and Silhouette took advantage spreading their propaganda and gaining many new members and supporters. Every government office, hotel, and house in the area suffered vast damage from the mass uprising many months ago.

Young walked up to the worn, brass, framed glass doors and pushed the cylindrical handle. The heavy door stuck to the floor and scraped across the ground swinging awkwardly. The three of them entered the spacious, high-ceiling lobby of the hotel, which was decorated in creamy wallpaper and huge potted plants sat next to the spaces where stolen paintings used to hang. The tiled floor, which would once reflect the warm light from the huge crystal chandelier, was now cracked and covered in dusty footprints. The reception desk sat in the centre of the lobby in between two wide twisting staircases that lead to the first floor rooms.

A man sat behind the counter smoking a cigarette as his thumbed through a magazine only looking at the pictures. He tapped the cigarette releasing small fiery ciders into the ashtray on the desk and blew out a slow moving tangled string of smoke that floated to the ceiling,

"Err…Excusez-moi…monsieur." Decker said feeling awkward trying to recall his French. The receptionist glanced up from his magazine and smiled weakly.

"Bonsoir monsieur. Je peux vous aider?" the receptionist asked politely, leaning forward from his chair and cupping his hands together. Decker stood puzzled, he was struck back with the speed at which the receptionist seemed to speak as the French words rolled fluently of his tongue in a blurb of unfamiliar noise. The small receptionist sat there waiting patiently for a response from Decker whose confidence had deserted him in an instance. He was like the small shy new child that had walked into their first classroom on their first day of their new school; everyone staring at, waiting for them to speak.

"Erm…American, Américain?…err…Anglais? Do you speak…?" Decker stuttered and splattered nervously turning bright red.

"Ah… Américain, oui, oui. How can I help you monsieur?" the receptionist said in English, grinning at the fumbling American standing at the desk. Decker smiled back feeling the blood flush in his cheeks, the receptionist was still grinning, and Decker knew he was laughing at him.

"Err…One…erm…Une chamber? Room? Please." Decker was trying to ask for a room.

"Une chambre…okay…one room zat is for one night? Oui?" the receptionist replied sharply and coldly pronouncing the S's and TH's in the sentence as if they were Z's.

"Yes, oui." Decker said relaxing a little now he could understand what was being spoken.

"Une famille room?" the cold receptionist asked.

"Err…Oui?" Decker answered, not really sure what the receptionist just asked.

"Okay, room twaunty eight iz free, two, eight, twaunty eight. O.K.?"

"Twenty eight. Right." Decker nodded. "How much?…em…Combien?"

"Erm…" The man traced his finger down a list of rooms. "Ah…Une nuit…400 creditz per person becoze of le curfew monsieur, iz zat O.K.?"

"Oui, we'll take it. Merci, monsieur." Decker said.

"Merci, monsieur, good night." The receptionist replied smugly "Va te faire foutre, s'il vous plaît!" the receptionist whispered ringing a small table bell. A small uniformed porter boy appeared from behind the desk. He held out his hands offering to carry the trio's suitcases but everyone held on to their possessions firmly. Puzzled, the boy proceeded up the spiralled staircase to show them to their room. The boy quickly disappeared up narrow set of carpeted stairs at the top of the first floor balcony. The trio clambered after him scraping the suitcases against the walls and handrail of the narrow stairs that were covered in small framed watercolour paintings.

Room twenty-eight was the third room on the second tier of the hotel. The porter stood against the second floor balcony rail opposite to the white painted wooden door, holding out the key with a straight arm. Decker took the key of the porter, who was suddenly looked over the balcony down at the reception area. There were more guests, the boy informed them that breakfast was at half past seven in the morning and then he wished them goodnight before racing back down the two flights to answer the bell downstairs which had rang at least three times.

As Decker turned the key in room twenty-eight door's lock an uncontrollable smile broke out on his face. It felt as if a great weight was lifted from all three of them as the door swung open sucking them into the room with the cold outside air. They had all made it, and they were free to be who they wanted to be, no one knew who they were here, they could start a new life.

The room was filled with cool fresh evening air as the net curtains fluttered in the breeze from the upper bay windows of their, once, luxurious apartment. Erin squealed with excitement and jumped at Wayne who was laughing heartily, they all dropped their suitcases and bags and embraced in the centre of the room. Wayne and Erin embraced, Wayne swinging her light body round and round on the spot laughing ecstatically. Decker picked up and put down his small suitcase on the bed and kicked his footwear off his aching feet. He fell back on the squashy mattress and lay looking up at the ceiling. As long as they lay low and did not use any public communications that were not encoded, Majestic Twelve could not trace them. Jacques had said this place was safe and Decker felt he could be trusted.

"I'm gonna take a shower." Erin said with a grin.

"Good, you can test the water." Young replied. The bathroom door was shut and there was a hush of water from the showerhead as it spurted out warm water. Decker lay still smiling from ear to ear. Young picked up his suitcase and placed it on top of Decker's suitcase, he unzipped the sides of the suitcase flipping open the floppy lid and started to unpack his squarely folded clothes.

There was a double knock at the door.

"Monsieur, Madame left a satchel at reception." Came the small childish voice through the door. Young opened the door to the small porter boy who stared up at Young. The boy held the bag tightly then smiled and handed it over.

"We'll try and be more careful, merci." Young said taking the bag out of the boy's hands. Young slowly closed the door on the porter who was still standing at the door looking inwards. The boy peeped through the slit just as the door closed.

"Nosey little kid." Young said frowning, Decker chuckled. "Erin you left your bag at the reception desk." Young called to her through the shower door.

"Sorry honey," came a muffled apology as the sound of the showerhead stopped.

Decker sat up off the bed squashing the neatly made pile of pillows underneath his mass. He flicked on the bedside lampshade and rummaged through his small satchel. Decker pulled out his laptop computer from a pile of wires and leads and logged in. The Internet automatically signed him in and opened his e-mail account. One new message, from the Smuggler. Decker stared at the screen puzzled.

There was a commotion outside, a quiet whispering, low and secretive. Another knock at the door. Decker clicked on the new message, and waited for it to open looking at Young who rolled his eyes in annoyance as the knocking continued.

"Monsieur, zis iz ze manager of ze hotel, may I speak to you?" the voice wavered waiting for an answer. Young frowned at the voice, Decker started to read the message from Smuggler but the screen went black and a new message appeared. The knocking was interrupted and a rhythmic pounding replaced it, hard and dominant.

"Erin Todd, Decker Parkes, Wayne Young. You are under arrest. Please put down any weapons you may have in your possession, and step out into the hallway."

Erin, who was just walking out of the shower towel drying her hair, froze, letting the small white towel fall from her hands. The three looked at each other with blank expressions, the fear showing clearly in their watery eyes. Decker looked down at the screen, which was scrolling a bold message.

From: UpNet

To: GenericMail883Net.2342.09238

Subject: READ ME

ICARUS FOUND YOU!

RUN WHILE YOU CAN!

"Shit! Everybody out the window." Young whispered.

The lights in the apartment went out.