CLAIREMBER 2022
Day 26 - warmth

Claire wasn't even two blocks away from the Eiffel Tower. If she stopped and turned as though she were going to cross the street, she'd see its black point piercing the gray sky.

But she didn't turn. She'd seen the Eiffel Tower nearly every day for the past two months, and it no longer impressed her. The only thing she wanted to see was Chris, alive and safe.

She'd waited all day at a park that some guy in a bar had told her a brown-haired, broad-shouldered American in a green jacket embroidered with stars frequented. The sky had spit snow and a cold breeze had plagued her the whole time. When she finally spotted him, the American in the starred jacket, she thought it'd been worth freezing her ass off all day.

But he wasn't Chris. Another dead end in the books. Time to go back to the hostel, take a hot shower, and figure out her next move.

Maybe I should go to London, she thought. The STARS headquarters are there. If he got others on board, they might be staying there while they plan what to do.

Over the past month, she'd thought a lot about going to London. But one thing held her here.

Umbrella's headquarters are five miles away. His best chance at taking them down is staying where he can watch their movements. So he has to be here somewhere.

One possibility that she didn't want to entertain was that Umbrella had captured him and was holding him prisoner somewhere. If they were, there'd almost certainly be a way to find out where he was at their HQ here.

But getting into that place was next to impossible. The only way in or out of the building was the front door, which was made of six-inches-thick steel and required a security pass to open.

Still, if Chris didn't turn up soon and it became practical to move on, she knew she'd have to check out the place before she left.

Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

She came to the street corner. The café she'd passed earlier was still open. She paused.

I shouldn't, she thought. I need to save money in case I have to stay here a few more months. Or longer.

A couple entered the shop. The smell of warm bread and coffee wafted outside. Her stomach rumbled.

I haven't eaten all day. I guess a hot croissant and coffee won't hurt.

She entered, sat down, and ordered. When the croissant came out, she gobbled it down. She felt its warmth spread through her body, making her feel human again.

As she sipped her coffee, three sharply dressed women entered. They spoke loudly, excitedly. About what, she didn't know, since it was all in French.

One said, "Umbrella."

She was tall, very elegant and beautiful, with red, windswept hair. She and her friends sat at the table behind Claire. As the red-headed woman laughed at something one of the other women said, she took off her long dress coat and hung it on the seat closest to Claire.

An Umbrella security pass was clamped to the end of her maroon suit jacket.

The woman noticed the pass and stuffed it in her jacket pocket. She said something to her friends, who'd sat, and then headed downstairs.

Claire watched the two women. They were engrossed in the menu.

She stirred her coffee, tapped the spoon on the cup lip, and let go. The spoon clattered to the floor.

The women kept looking at the menu.

She bent over, grabbed the spoon, and slid the pass into her pocket. Tossing some francs on the table, she stood. Someone bumped into her.

The Umbrella woman!

"Pardon," Claire said.

The woman snapped at her in French and then sat down. Claire bolted into the snowy cold and jogged until she felt safe enough to stop. She checked the security pass. It had the Umbrella logo and a picture of the woman above a caption which read, CHRISTINE HENRY, DIRECTRICE DES SECTIONS PARIS.

Claire had one, maybe two hours until Christine Henry realized her security pass was missing. She had to make the most of the time she had – she had to check out Umbrella's headquarters.

For Chris.

She ran to the nearest metro station.