Happy New Year, Everyone! I hope your holidays were merry and bright. Enjoy the latest chapter!

6 – Jacques Fantôme

Mr. Pine turned on the lamp.

Outside his door, a movement stopped suddenly.

Mr. Pine took off his jacket. He shed his clothes like a dog shedding water, and changed into his pyjamas.

Outside his door, a body was dragged into the supply cabinet and disposed of.

Mr. Pine washed his face and sat on his bed.

Outside his door, a shadow lurked.

Mr. Pine turned off the lamp.

There was a click, and suddenly a cold knife was at Mr. Pine's throat. A butterfly knife clasped in a kidskin glove.

Mr. Pine let out the smallest intake of breath. "I regret nothing."

"I know," shushed a deep, cool voice.

Then there was the shck, shck of a butterfly knife being sheathed.

The lamp was on again. A bottle of wine, half-emptied by now, sat on the table between the two men. They laughed now, lightly.

"How right you are about French women."

"They do hold a dear place in my heart, of course… but I knew a woman from the south streets of Boston once upon a time…" the spy's eyes grew a little dreamy behind his dark mask.

"Er…" Mr. Pine took a quick sip of wine to give him strength. "I have to ask sir, exactly who hired you to…"

"To kill you?" The spy snuffed his cigarette into the ashtray. "Do you know who I am, monsieur?"

"You are Jacques Fantôme, also known as the Prime Minister of Sinister, and the Duke of Spook…"

"I did not approve those nicknames, I assure you," Jacques Fantôme said in his French accent.

"… in short, the most feared assassin on the European Continent."

"I do merit that title." Jacques smiled over his glass of blood red wine.

"But who hired you to kill me?"

"Only… let me see…" he proceeded to list the names of four of the most powerful leaders on the European Continent, then three from the Middle East, and several important people of the United States.

Mr. Pine considered each of these names with a shadowed brow. "I suppose word of my project has spread farther than I had wished…"

"If I may say so, sir, recruiting directly from the Soviets themselves was not the most subtle move. Nor was hiring the so-called Adelaide Assassin. And that soldier lunatic… he has the, what do you say… the grace of a speeding Mac truck."

Mr. Pine allowed himself one raised eyebrow. It sounded, more than anything, like Jacques was giving him advice…

"Now, I, on the other hand…"

Mr. Pine raised his other eyebrow.

"I have been called subtlety incarnate. Without being a Super, I can infiltrate anywhere, be anything, kill anyone, without leaving a single smear of cigarette ash." Jacques smiled with very even, slightly sharp teeth. "And I hear, Monsieur Pine, that you have developed a near-perfect cloaking device."

"Emphasis on near," Mr. Pine said quickly, even though a smile was breaking out over his face. "It only works for a few seconds at a time… so far…"

"Give me a few seconds, you give me the world. And… you get me as a member of your team."

And that had been that. Sure, Johnny would have something to say about it once he heard, and Johnson would surely feel that his thunder was being stolen, but Jacques had hired himself, and Mr. Pine could hardly say no.

For one thing, it wouldn't have been polite. For another, it wouldn't have been safe.