2- Back To Business
The rain was freezing cold and falling heavily on her. She tucked her head and neck into her own coat and hood, and stuck her fists a little further into her pockets. Her footsteps sank into the gravel of the driveway with a loud crunch. She followed the path along the perfectly manicured, improbably green lawn, before entering the large building's main and imposing door.
She and Mark had been in regular contact since the end of her trial and the Monstrum case, but she realised that she hadn't been here for ages. She knew the place by heart, but still marvelled at the great stone arches above and their gothic carvings. A few people turned and whispered as she passed, but she paid no further attention. Truth be told, it had been a long time since she had paid attention to the remarks and other attitudes towards her when she went somewhere.
She quickly walked through the first few buildings, which were mainly classrooms, lecture halls, refectories and libraries. After a few minutes, she left the hustle and bustle of the student body and entered a more secret and quiet part of the university, in corners that only the most seasoned students and researchers know. She pushed open a heavy wooden double door and followed a corridor for a few metres, before coming to the entrance of a small office.
She couldn't help but smile when she discovered the man, bent over his desk, visibly concentrated on photos and documents covered with inscriptions that reminded her of something. From his messy hair and crumpled shirt, and the state of the tea mug lying within reach, she suspected he hadn't slept much in recent days.
"Good afternoon, Mark."
For a split second she thought an earthquake had struck the office and the entire building. The man jumped so violently that he almost lost his balance and knocked over several books and papers in the process. His pen flew out of his hand and went flying through the air before rolling a little further into the room. The adventuress was so surprised by his reaction that she couldn't help but jump herself. The man, in his forties, with a thin, sunken face, looked up at her with panicked brown eyes hidden behind some small round glasses.
"Lara..."
The young woman smiled at him and stepped into the small room, which now looked more like a mini library after a tsunami.
"I wasn't expecting you so soon, we still have one month left to work on the exhibition, so..."
"I had time to come and see you, I hope I'm not disturbing you?"
"Not at all," replied the young man nervously, trying to sort through the clutter on his desk. "Actually I took five minutes to have a look at some documents we are supposed to use in the exhibition, among some other few things."
Without waiting for his invitation, Lara unloaded her small backpack and sat down in the wooden chair opposite Mark's desk, which made an ominous creaking sound.
"I don't know how I should take it..." the young woman said in a low voice, more to herself.
He looked at her without understanding, now even more panicked.
"I was referring to the chair."
"Oh," he said, suddenly blushing. "You know, it's not just you, it's an old chair I found, I've been thinking for ages that I should change it but..."
"I was only joking."
"Okay, I see," he replied like a child scolded by his mother.
Lara could not hold back a sympathetic laugh. Her gaze wandered over the small office with its thick wooden partitions and shelves full of dusty books. At the back of the room, somewhere behind her, she noticed a corkboard with countless photos, sketches and reproductions attached on it. He had written down some questions and annotations on colourful post it notes.
"So, tell me, how are you? How is it going?" she asked suddenly.
The researcher shrugged.
"I think the correct expression would be 'not too bad'. A lot of work at the moment, the end of the year coming up... The exhibition is taking up a lot of my attention too. But we'll see about that, how are you?"
The Englishwoman shrugged her shoulders in turn.
"It couldn't be better."
An awkward silence fell between them. Mark just stared her from head to toe.
"It's nice to see you in real life after all this time," he finally said, shaking his head, still embarrassed by the young woman's appearance.
"A lot has happened since then."
"I suppose so. But you're going to tell me all about it. Would you like some tea or something?"
Lara shook her head to decline his proposal. The man stood up and grabbed an old kettle from a shelf behind him. He poured himself a cup of tea from the dirt-stained mug that lay on his desk. Lara did not let her disgust show.
"So tell me, how do you feel? What have you been doing since you came back from Prague?"
Lara looked at him without understanding, and her frown betrayed her incomprehension. Mark put the kettle down, a strong smell of black citrus tea filled the room.
"What?" asked the man, who obviously got confused too. "I guess some things have happened since you came back from Central Europe... since ..."
Mark left his sentence hanging. They looked at each other for a moment, as if Lara was going to guess what he was thinking.
"If you mean after the Monstrum case and what happened in Paris, and after I was falsely accused of murder, and maybe after the year I spent trying to prove I was not that murderer... yes indeed, a lot happened for sure."
The young man shook his head slightly and pursed his lips, obviously taken aback by such impulsiveness.
"Of course," he said, clearing his throat. "I suppose so, anyway."
"What exactly do you want to know, Mark?"
"Nothing," stammered the poor man, confused. "I was just wondering how you were doing. I understand it's been a hard time for you there."
Lara looked straight into the researcher's brown eyes.
"My life's not the same anymore, Mark. I've lost people... lots of people I cared about. Everything around me seems different now, there are only a few people left on who I can count. I'm still struggling to find a way out of all of this. I'm just trying to keep going and to do what I'm the best at."
Mark stayed quiet, again a bit confused about Lara's attitude. He didn't know exactly how to speak to her in the right way.
"I barely knew Werner, but I know he was special to you as he was your mentor, and I'm really sorry about his death. It's a huge loss for the archeological world."
The adventuress pursed her lips together, almost annoyed by such a hasty conclusion.
"Certainly. Werner's knowledge was valuable on many subjects. Despite his greed and relentlessness, he was an extremely intelligent man. He will always be my mentor and the one who made me the woman I am today. But his recklessness almost caused the loss of all of us, and will have caused his own. It is regrettable, but I know that others, starting with me, will take over from now on. That's the way it is, what happened happened."
"Again, I'm sorry, Lara. He was an admirable man, I'm glad he's now resting in his native land."
"Don't be," she replied more calmly to the researcher. "Werner was what he was. He was one of many unfortunate victims of a serial killer. I have mourned. There is nothing more to say. We have to move on now."
They shook their heads in unison.
"So the whole thing of the Monstrum and the murders are behind you now..."
"I guess so."
For a moment she wanted to tell Mark everything about what had happened after Paris and Prague's events. But as she thought about it, she realised the poor man wasn't ready to hear what she had to tell him, just as the world wasn't ready to hear it either. The world was not ready to hear the truth about the Monstrum's crimes and had preferred to find a logical, constructed explanation for them. Having someone else take the blame for these horrific murders in her place had been the perfect excuse, but she wished it had been otherwise. Her innocence was proven in any case. But the truth about the Nephili world could not come out. Turkey and its cursed ruins would have to remain silent forever. She knew she could not risk revealing everything and arousing interest in this dark world. Everything was behind them now, but at the cost of far too many lives and sacrifices.
"Between that and what had already happened in Egypt..." Mark said, snapping her out of her reverie, "I'm really sorry for everything you've been through, Lara."
"Stop being sorry all the time."
"Sorry..."
The young woman let out a small laugh. Mark rubbed the back of her neck absentmindedly, his other hand compressed around the steaming cup of tea. Lara's gaze wandered for a moment over the documents spread out in front of the man, which obviously concerned the exhibition Mark had offered her to work on with him. He and the British museum had not forgotten her knowledge and her many discoveries in Egypt, and she felt flattered in a way. But it saddened her when she realised that she had nothing more interesting to do these days than to mount an exhibition in which she would barely be mentioned.
Among the various trinkets on the desk, Lara then noticed a small African-style statuette carved from wood. A sort of flashy coloured loincloth adorned it. When her eyes fell on it, the young woman suddenly felt her heart rise uncontrollably, without really knowing why. Her breathing quickened, she suddenly felt sickened.
"Is everything alright?" Mark asked, frowning as he saw the expression on her face.
"Yes..."
She shook her head, as if trying to get her mind clear.
"...I've just arrived from the States, I'm still a bit jetlagged I think."
She stood up hurriedly and walked to the board at the back of the office where Mark was holding his dashboard for the exhibition. Hands on her hips, Lara caught her breath and fought back the feeling of nausea.
"I'm sorry, I must have irritated you with all my questions," said the researcher, who stood up and approached the corkboard too.
She gave him a weak smile over her shoulder.
"It's nothing, Mark. I know that all these events undoubtedly draw attention to me and my activities, and I know I can't change that, whatever I do."
She turned slightly and looked in the direction of the desk, and couldn't help but glance again at the small wooden statuette. She looked away just as her head began to spin again.
"And so, tell me, what's up with that exhibition?" she asked, changing subject.
The man nodded, and approached the board in turn. For almost two hours they went over all the important points that needed to be discussed and the general structure of the exhibition. They had to reconsider certain points and sort out which pieces they wanted to present and highlight. They also had to agree on the transport of some rare pieces from the Louvre Museum, very kindly lent for the occasion.
It was still dark and grey outside when their meeting came to an end. They had sat back down at Mark's desk to take some notes; he finally looked up at the adventuress as he finished writing and sending an email.
"Maybe setting up an exhibition with me and some of our students wasn't what you had in mind for the continuation of your career."
Lara gave him a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry about me, I know it's only temporary. The museums that need me for dangerous missions will come back to me sooner or later. Fortunately they still need neckbreakers like me. It's only a matter of time, I'm sure business will pick up."
The researcher shrugged a shoulder.
"You know, if you get bored or if you ever feel like I can find you some work here. I'm pretty sure the administration could get you a position as a lecturer, or maybe as a referee for some of our students in master degree, I'm sure they would be more than happy to work with you."
"Well, I'm not sure about that."
Her gaze fell back on the small African statuette again and she felt her heart lift almost instantly.
"I'm more of a loner. You know me," she answered in a low voice.
"You can take time to think about it, there's no need to rush of course. But I'm sure you'd be wonderful as a teacher. And you're kind of at home here."
"I'll leave the teacher-adventurer role to others."
She smiled at him before slowly getting up from the chair and heading for the door. As she slung her bag over her shoulder and was about to leave, Mark's voice called out to her again.
"Lara?"
The young woman stopped in the doorway and turned around. Mark looked at her for a few seconds without saying a word, almost hesitating.
"What?"
She saw him swallow with difficulty.
"I was wondering..."
But he didn't finish his sentence. He suddenly looked away, as if ashamed of something. She could feel his nervousness.
"Go ahead, what's wrong?" retorted Lara, her arms now tightly crossed against herself.
"Em, I don't know... well, that's stupid actually... I was just wondering if... you and that guy..."
She frowned.
"What guy?"
Mark shook his head, slightly annoyed, or maybe just embarrassed, she thought. He cleared his throat, as if the words coming out of his mouth irritated him.
"The American guy..."
She looked at him uncomprehendingly, trying to understand his train of thought.
"The one who was with you last time, the one with black hair..."
Her heart leapt in her chest. She watched Mark fidget in his chair and make an approximative movement with his hand, as if he was trying to remember.
"Kurtis, you mean?"
"Maybe..."
She sensed irony, even a little contempt, in the way the researcher answered. She felt a flush of anger rise up inside her. With a look, the adventuress told him to finish his reasoning.
"You are together, right?"
"That's none of your business," she answered abruptly.
The young man finally looked up at her and just stared at her for a moment, as if he hoped she would contradict herself or change her mind. She felt a little offended by his sudden childish and self-centred attitude, which in no way reflected the vivacity and intelligence he usually displayed.
Of course, she had understood from the first day they had met how Mark felt about her, and Kurtis had guessed right too. Mark wasn't the kind of man to come on to her, unlike many others, but his intentions towards her had been more or less clear throughout their meetings. She knew for a fact that he would never openly show his feelings for her, and she sometimes resented playing on his feelings to get out of tricky situations when it suited her, even if she felt a bit ashamed about it.
She sighed. In front of her completely impassive and determined expression, she saw Mark resigned himself and shook his head.
"We stay in touch. Let me know about the British Museum," she said coldly.
The young man nodded silently. He waved his hand briefly to say goodbye and after one last glance at him and then at the small African statuette, Lara turned her heels and disappeared into the corridor.
—
STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN, THE DAY AFTER
The hostess walking a bit ahead guided him through the huge maze of corridors and offices that made up the building, waddling in her high heels. She led him down a corridor to their left, and stopped in front of a small, cosy-looking room. With an exaggerated smile and an elegant wave of the hand, she invited him in.
"Mr Renner," she said in a smooth voice and with her northern accent.
The young man walked towards what looked like a small waiting room. He thanked the hostess with a very discreet nod, to which the young woman responded with an even bigger smile and a look that was a little too insistent for his taste. Her large blue eyes fixed on him for a short moment, before literally running over him from head to toe. After a last glance at what seemed to be his crotch, she finally turned around, followed by her long light brown ponytail.
The mercenary, a little surprised by this welcoming committee, refocused and took a quick tour of the room. The place was entirely glassed in, completely open to the outside. Large and chic, modern armchairs were arranged in the centre of the room, around a thick marble coffee table. He reached over and grabbed one of the pamphlets there, which he flipped through quickly.
Photos that seemed to him to be from another time, or at least quite cliché for such company, presented the firm as a large research group, relatively well known in Europe for its research in biology and anthropology. BIOTEKNIKA. He had never heard of them. They had obviously done quite a bit of research on vaccines, on some stem cells and were specialised in the processing of bio-molecules. On the way up here, he and the hostess had passed a whole bunch of technicians and lab assistants of all kinds, clad in their long white coats, sometimes hidden behind their large transparent plastic visors. A strange smell, halfway between metal, burnt plastic and chemicals, floated in the air. Kurtis frowned a little more, not knowing what to think about what was about to happen here.
He abandoned the flyer on a corner of the table and walked towards the large bay window, which opened completely into the void. He stopped, arms folded against him. The view was magnificent from here. They were overlooking the city of Oslo, and were situated right in its nerve centre. The buildings of the business district they were in were relatively dull and monotonous compared to the colourful old buildings that dotted the banks of the Oslofjord. A little further down he could even see the Royal Palace. He had never had the chance to visit the Northern countries of Europe, but he really liked the cold and somehow hostile atmosphere of those unknown places of the old continent.
He glanced quickly at his phone, before slipping it into the back pocket of his trousers. He quickly readjusted his jacket, and cracked his neck which was slightly stuck.
"Mr Renner?"
He abruptly turned around, surprised by the voice that had just called out to him. A man with brown hair, light eyes, and a rather thin build had just appeared at the other end of the room. Judging by his smart three-piece suit, he was an executive or senior manager of the company.
"TS, I presume?"
The man, a little taken by surprise too, let out a cartoonish laugh, the kind he must have been used to using to cut people off guard, especially women, Kurtis imagined.
"Himself. But you can call me Tobias Svendsen," he said, stepping towards him and holding out his hand.
The American's firm and assertive hand met the strangely soft and passive one of the Norwegian. Kurtis watched him carefully and defensively. The man stepped aside to let him pass.
"Please, let's make ourselves a little more comfortable. Follow me."
The man invited Kurtis to follow him. They walked down the corridor, before entering a huge office a little further to the right, one of those reserved for senior executives as the American had sensed. They found themselves in a huge, but strangely empty room. Again, the room was completely glassed in, with a breathtaking view of the city. A huge desk made of glass was standing almost indecently at the back of the room, surrounded by only a few pieces of storage furniture. In a corner, perched on her high heels, almost in the background, the young hostess nodded again. Svendsen accompanied the mercenary to a corner of the room where there were leather armchairs and sofas. As he was about to sit down, Kurtis realised that a dark-skinned woman, obviously in her forties, was waiting for them. She stood up to greet him.
"Nice to finally meet you in person, Mr. Renner. We've been looking forward to meeting you."
Kurtis shook the hand she was holding out to him with a confident gesture. A strange shiver ran through him as he met her piercing gaze, which seemed to probe him to his very core. She gave him a mysterious smile. At his astonished and somewhat confused look, the woman then turned her gaze to Svendsen.
"I understand that my husband forgot to introduce me..."
"You're a big girl, you can do it yourself, I think?" Tobias replied scathingly as he took his place on one of the sofas.
She glared at the man.
"... But I can't say I'm surprised. I'm Miranda Svendsen," she said, turning back to Kurtis, "I'm the co-president and director of BIOTEKNIKA group. Welcome to Oslo and to our company. Please," she said, releasing Kurtis' hand and inviting him to sit down.
"Don't mind her, she has the irrepressible urge to reprimand me everytime she can," Tobias interrupted and waved his hand at the hostess.
The young woman suddenly came to life and walked towards the mini bar. In a provocative and exaggerated posture, she bent down to grab some glasses and a few nice bottles of undoubtedly expensive alcohol.
"Do you want something?" Svendsen asked.
Kurtis declined his offer with a movement of the hand. The young hostess came back to them and served Tobias a glass of whisky, but not without leaning in an exaggerated way towards Kurtis once more. She was obviously eager to show him a little more of her cleavage and her tight dress.
"And Tobias has a constant need to bring everything back to him. We live in a world full narcissists, all with the character of spoilt rotten children... but what can we do about that?" Miranda Svendsen replied, visibly annoyed.
They sat down around a small coffee table in the same style as the one in the room the American had just left. Kurtis tried to make himself as comfortable as possible on the couch, a little taken aback with this introduction. The hostess finally straightened up, and went back to stand a little further in the corner of the room. Her wide eyes did not leave the American.
"You've just come from the United States, if I'm not mistaken. Did you have a good trip?" the Norwegian asked
"Yes, I did," Kurtis answered a little abruptly, coming back to reality.
There was an awkward silence around the table. Tobias and Miranda exchanged a brief glance, also feeling the unease.
"Forgive me, I'm not the kind of man who dwells on those kind of trivialities," Kurtis told them, as he decided to take the lead. "I like to know what I'm getting into pretty quickly."
Miranda gave him a reassuring, almost relieved smile.
"It's not a problem," she said gently. "You're right anyway, we might as well not waste time on details."
"So you're specialised in scientific and biological research from what I understand?"
"That's right," Miranda replied, straightening up proudly. "We are one of the largest and most powerful companies in Europe in this field."
"What do you mean by powerful?" Kurtis asked, intrigued.
"One of the most developed and one of the most present on the market in terms of technologies process and advances in bio-genes in particular, or in terms of genetic manipulation. I'll spare you further details, we're not here for that."
Kurtis cocked his head slightly to the side, unable to contain his surprise and curiosity.
"You're here because we're interested in your abilities, Mr. Renner," Tobias continued, his hands tightening around his thick glass of whiskey.
"And what exactly do you know about my abilities?" replied the young man, a little arrogant.
"Just enough to know that you're the right man for this job."
"You're the kind of profile that doesn't go unnoticed in the business," Tobias added. "Let's be honest, it's pretty easy to pick up the first mercenary or hitman that comes along, there are plenty of them on the market. We could have contacted any other person willing to do anything to get paid, and believe me, there are some. But it's almost impossible to find someone like you."
"You're going to make me blush," the American replied ironically, unable to hold back a smirk.
"It's a very serious contract we're offering you today," Miranda replied more seriously, her eyes fixed on the mercenary. "Your experience and connections speak for you, we have no doubt, and we're willing to pay the price."
"There are people far more competent than me," Kurtis replied curtly, unable not to think about Lara.
"But you're the one we want, Mr Renner."
Kurtis watched them one by one without saying a word at first. He caught a new look from the hostess, who gave him a slight smile. He plunged his hand into his jacket pocket and took out his lighter and his packet of cigarettes. With a look, he asked his hosts for permission to smoke. Tobias nodded slightly. The mercenary raised a cigarette to his lips and lit it. He took a long puff before blowing out the smoke. Miranda, sitting directly opposite him, did not take her eyes off him, not even for a fraction of a second. She seemed to be probing him, as if trying to decipher what was going on in his head.
"Who told you about me?" asked the young man, suddenly suspicious.
"We're just well-informed," Tobias replied calmly. "Or at least we have enough contacts around the world to fill any kind of mission, whatever is needed and whenever it is needed. Does that answer your question?"
"Not really. I'm not sure I can work with people who don't play fair with me."
"I perfectly understand, Mr Renner," Miranda replied firmly. "By the way, what should we call you? Mr Renner, Mr Trent... or maybe Mr Heissturm?"
As he was about to raise his cigarette to his lips again, the mercenary stopped. He took advantage of the slight veil of smoke to conceal the surge of stress that was taking hold of him. Against him, inside his jacket pocket, he felt the reassuring pressure of his chirugai. But this was certainly not the time to demonstrate.
"Who are you?" he asked coldly, his eyes focused on the woman facing him.
"Just some well-informed people, as we told you" Tobias replied. "It's only about checking some information before contacting you. I'm sure you understand we just needed to make sure about the people we get in contact with. And just like you, we like things to be clear on this kind of contract."
"Don't see anything personal, mister Renner," Miranda told him.
A strange smile appeared on the face of the half-breed at this moment, and Kurtis felt completely unsettled. Was it a coincidence she had used that particular phrase?
He pushed the strange idea that was slowly coming up to his mind away. He had never heard of BIOTEKNIKA until today, they had no direct connection to him, and in his memories, neither did Lara. But when he thought about it, such kind of people was powerful enough to easily get information about someone if needed. And it was no surprise they already knew about his other names, as mercenaries usually work under false identities. But only a few people knew about his real name. Kurtis sighed, annoyed.
"Again, it's just a matter of getting things clear between us," Tobias said, interrupting his thoughts.
There was a new silence between them. Kurtis leaned forward to put out his cigarette butt. He remained with his elbows on his knees, his hands crossed in front of him. From now on, he knew he had no choice but to play their game to know what was going on.
"We're looking for an object that will allow us to advance one of our projects considerably," Miranda said, her eyes now shining with determination.
"What kind of project?"
"That's top secret," replied Tobias.
"And what kind of object is it exactly?"
"That's top secret too, we can't tell you anything about it right now."
Kurtis let out a wry laugh. He straightened up and leaned back against the back of the seat.
"How did you say again? 'A matter of getting things clear between us'?"
"This is an extremely delicate project, which is only in its test phase," Miranda explained, trying to change subject as she sensed the American's annoyance. "It's a project initiated by Tobias and myself, no one in this company knows about it except for a few technicians."
"If it's a top secret project, I guess none of your investors or shareholders are funding it then?"
Tobias nodded.
"What's the point if no one knows about it, and if you're not even financially assured of a certain payback?" asked the American, looking for a loophole.
"It's a project I'm working on for personal interests," Tobias said. "A project that my grandfather, who is himself the founder of this company, started years ago. As we said, it's still just an idea, we've just made some tests so far. The object we are looking for would allow us to further develop the theories he developed at the time. It's a bet I made for myself."
"We are the major shareholders in this company, we don't need anyone's approval in these circumstances," Miranda explained. "It's our money, we can invest it in whatever we want."
"Sure," Kurtis nodded in agreement.
"My only wish is to honour my grandfather's research, even if it leads nowhere," added the Norwegian.
"We hope this object will boost our research and help us advance science, even if there is a good chance that it will fail."
The American crossed his arms, thinking about it all. He watched the couple in front of him, who seemed to be holding their breath. He would have to do some more research, and maybe even call on some of Lara's contacts, but he had to admit that nothing seemed that strange so far, except for the fact they knew his real name.
"I can promise you this is nothing illegal."
"It's not a matter of illegality, it's a matter of what I'm supposed to get and recover."
"I can assure you you'll find out soon enough," Tobias told him in a mysterious tone. "And if I'm not mistaken, I think sometimes some data is deliberately left out on purpose when mercenaries go on special missions, right? But I think you must know that better than I do."
Kurtis just stared at him silently in response. He didn't like the tone the man was taking with him.
"We've already located the place where the object is. We know how to get there and which way to go. All we have to do now is recover it, it'll be a piece of cake for you."
"Why didn't you tried to recover it before then?"
"We have, but everything we've tried so far has failed."
"What do you mean, failed? Is there any particular danger I should be aware of?"
"Not at all, this mission requires certain physical conditions, but also a certain discretion. Once again, you are obviously the only one who can take on such a mission."
Kurtis remained silent once more. He felt the as disturbing as unhealthy look of the hostess, which had not got away from him since his arrival. At the same time, he was trying to sort out all the information the two Norwegians had just given him. Could it be they were referring to his powers if they thought he was the only one who could take on this mission?
They have no way of knowing. No one knew, either at the Legion or at The Agency...
Another doubt seized the young man.
Gunderson was Norwegian himself. How do I know they haven't used his services in the past for some mission? A company of this size undoubtedly has well-placed contacts all over the world. They seem well informed...
Again, he'd have to do some research to make sure they had no connection to Gunderson, although the alleged link between them seemed unlikely at the moment.
Who knows
"We'll get back to you in a few days with all the details," Miranda said. "We'll send you a detailed description of the object's location and what you have to do. Everything is already arranged, so you won't have to worry about anything."
"Who says I'll accept?"
"Why are you still here then?" she asked bluntly.
"I've never been to Oslo, 'thought it could be cool to spend two days here," replied the young man in a calm and ironic tone.
Miranda Svendsen remained unmoved by the mercenary's attitude, she did not let any specific emotion show. Tobias Svendsen, on the other hand, was looking at him with an evil eye, leaning on one of the armrests of his chair, pensive. The young hostess played with her hands nervously, waiting for the conclusion of the exchange. Feeling that the discussion was coming to an end, the mercenary slowly stood up.
"Your price will be our price," Miranda told him calmly, and she stood up in turn.
Kurtis merely nodded slowly.
"Send me the mission report first and I'll see what I can do for you."
An almost imperceptible smile played at the corner of the half-breed's lips. Tobias, a little more nervous beside her, stood up too.
"We'll be waiting to hear from you," Miranda said, holding out her hand.
Kurtis took her hand and shook it confidently.
You haven't won yet, girl
He then turned to the Norwegian, who gave him a much firmer handshake than the one he had received in welcome. Their eyes met for a moment, and they gauged each other.
"That was a real pleasure to meet you," he said in a relaxed tone, completely out of tune with what he was exuding at the moment. "Saija, please show Mr. Renner out."
"That's fine, thank you," the American cut him off. "I'd like to get out of here in one piece, if possible," he said, flashing a wry smile at the young woman who was already walking towards him.
The hostess stopped dead in her tracks, clearly offended. Kurtis stepped forward and passed through the door without another word. The two Norwegians watched him go up the corridor, before disappearing into the lift without him giving them the slightest glance. They turned to each other, still wondering.
Tobias ran a nervous hand over his face.
"What time is my next appointment, Saija?"
"In about twenty minutes, sir."
"Perfect. Would you give us a moment, please?"
The pale-eyed woman nodded softly and slipped away without a sound. They waited for the large door to close behind her before speaking to each other.
"It didn't turn out so bad after all," said Tobias, who walked towards the large bay window, hands in his pockets.
"You think so?"
Miranda joined him, arms folded, pensive.
"I'm sure he'll agree."
"I hope so," she replied, her eyes glazing over.
"You did great, babe."
Miranda let out a small, satisfied laugh. She turned to her husband, watching him from the corner of her eye. A smile finally formed on her lips. She loosened her arms and gently approached him. Then, with a sudden gesture, she pushed him back. Taken aback, Tobias almost stumbled, and took a few steps back to catch himself. He let his wife guide him until he finally hit the solid glass desk. She took another step and he found himself pinned against the piece of furniture. Miranda pressed her body against his.
"I've already told you not to call me that," she said sensually, but her eyes were full of anger.
A mocking smile appeared on the Norwegian's face. He leaned towards her to kiss her.
"I'm pretty sure you like it, actually," he murmured before his lips met hers.
"You're really pissing me off, Tobias..." the young woman breathed between two sighs.
In a sudden, abrupt movement, Tobias grabbed her by the waist and slid his hands down to her bottom, before reaching her thighs to lift her dress. Miranda nibbled his ear affectionately, before returning to his lips. She gripped his hair tightly. She let out a sigh as his lips rested on the hollow of her neck.
"I see he's had a great effect on you too," she said mockingly.
"Won't be able to tell you which one of us has been the most turned on by this guy, actually..." the man answered in a provocative tone.
"Even Saija was completely confused," Miranda retorted, sliding her hand between Tobias' legs.
They laughed. The young woman caught her breath before she could speak again.
"There's something about him. His aura is incredible, I think his psyche is extremely powerful, from what I could perceive just now. I even felt like he knew that..."
"And right now, do you feel something?" answered the Norwegian, who stuck a little more to her.
"You're impossible..."
"I'm sorry," said the man in a falsely sorry voice, biting her ear again. "I cut you off."
Miranda pushed him away slightly, and looked straight into his eyes.
"I'm definitely serious, Tobias."
He took a step back to look at his companion, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.
"Do you think he suspects something?" he asked, suddenly concerned.
"He clearly has his doubts, yes. I felt his apprehension, I think he's wondering about me, I think he sensed something. But I couldn't go any further, he's clearly broken in and knows how to protect himself. I think his abilities and powers are even stronger than we thought."
"Why is that a problem?"
"We'll have to be careful. And be even more subtle."
Tobias shrugged.
"I'm not worried about that, I know you're handling the situation perfectly."
The half-breed put her hands on his shoulders and placed a soft kiss on his lips.
"Let's give him a few more days to think it over. I think it will be necessary," the Norwegian said gently.
"Send him the report as soon as possible. The more I think about it, the more difficult it will be to find a plan B if he refuses."
"There is no plan B," Tobias replied coldly.
Miranda sighed loudly. After one last languorous kiss, she pushed her husband away and moved away from the desk. She walked in the room and stopped in front of a large mirror near the door. She readjusted her dress and jacket, ran a hand through her thick, curly hair to bring it back into shape. She straightened up and puffed out her chest proudly.
"Where are you going?"
"I've got work to do. And it seems to me that you have another appointment within a few minutes," she told him implacably.
She abruptly turned around and headed for the door to leave. Tobias, incredulous, tried to follow her, but barely had time to open his mouth to protest when his wife cut him off.
"Yes, I know, you're pissed off that I'm leaving you here," she said over her shoulder. "Just stop whining and get back to work, we'll catch up later."
She walked up the whole corridor as Kurtis had done a few moments earlier. The Norwegian watched her until she entered the lift. Once inside, she finally turned to him and looked at her husband, who stood in the doorway of his office, hands in his pockets again. She couldn't help but smile at his frustrated expression.
You sweet little bitch
Her smile widened a little more.
"I know. But you're lucky I'm here to take care of everything."
She pressed the button, and the doors closed on her with a loud ringing sound.