Chapter 7

Getting Reacquainted

Kirika watched as Mireille came through the door. Mireille seemed somewhat tense as she dumped her shopping onto the pool table. Her shoulders sagging as she exhaled loudly, she simply stood there, staring at the bags on the pool table.

"Mireille?" Kirika stepped down into what passed for the apartment's living room. She knew something had happened while Mireille was out; now it was a question of what, exactly. "What's wrong?"

Mireille turned to face her. "I was followed by Soldats."

Kirika's eyes widened. "A Soldat?"

"Two, to be exact." Mireille slumped into the chair by the pool table, exhaling in a loud sigh. "I should've known. They were probably watching us ever since we left the Manor." Her head against the chair's back, Mireille stared at the ceiling as she spoke.

Kirika knew about Mireille's deal with the Soldats; she had told her about what she had done to get to the Manor on their way back to Paris. "We always knew it was possible... that they would be watching us, I mean."

Mireille smiled as she straightened and sat up in her chair, looking over at Kirika. "Well, one won't be following us anymore," she said, her voice lightened, almost cheery. The smile and cheery attitude promptly faded as Mireille sighed, turning back to the ceiling. "Although... this may have made things worse."

"What do you mean?"

Mireille sighed. "There were two, actually. The other one was a woman, claiming to be with the Soldats and offering a position. She wanted us to join up."

"And you said no," Kirika said matter-of-factly.

"Right. Then, after she left, I realised there was someone else following me, so I lured him into an alley. Said he had no idea who hired him."

Kirika cocked her head to one side. "What can we do?"

"I think I know who ordered him to follow me. I think I need to pay a visit to an old friend. I just need to get changed."

Kirika nodded. "I'm coming with you."

Mireille's eyes narrowed as she shook her head. "Not with that wound, you're not. You'd slow us down. Besides, the doctor said you still need rest."

"Mireille..."

Mireille's voice hardened. "I said no."

Kirika said nothing further, but her gaze didn't leave Mireille.

Mireille blinked, then walked past Kirika to her closet to find some new clothes.

Clad in a dark blue business suit, Mireille plucked at the hem of her skirt as she waited for the elevator to stop. She straightened nervously, eyes fixed on the elevator's numbered lights.

The elevator slowed and came to a stop. Level seventeen. She stepped off and walked down the short distance to the reception and lounge. Her heartbeat rose as she approached the entrance. Her right hand rested in her large leather handbag, slung over her shoulder by her right hip, her hand gripping her Walther P99.

She entered the reception lounge through the wooden door, her hand still in her bag. There were two men seated in the lounge, with a receptionist at the desk. The receptionist was speaking into her headset, while the men were reading newspapers. Ignoring all of them, Mireille strode past reception to the corner that led to the corridor that in turn led to the offices.

The receptionist stood up and looked past the desk at Mireille. "Can I help you?" she asked in French. Mireille ignored her. So far, neither man made a move. So far, so good...

Just as she was about to turn the corner, someone stepped into her way from around the corner. The figure was a man. A man in his mid-sixties, with silver hair, wearing a black business suit. A man walking with a slight limp and a wooden cane, which was crowned with a distinctive gold eagle's head, inset with polished stones.

"Ah, Miss Bouquet, how good to see you again."

Remy Breffort smiled at her.

Mireille recoiled in surprise – she hadn't expected him to come around the corner like that – but she promptly composed herself. "We need to talk."

"Of course. We can talk in my office. But first..." Breffort held up a stack of printouts with his free hand. He walked over to the receptionist and set them on her desk.

"Please fax these to Mister Levenstein over in Hamburg, Natalie," he said. Twitching his head towards Mireille, he added, "Don't worry about her – I've been expecting her."

Have you really? Mireille thought to herself. Then again, she was under surveillance.

"Yes, sir," the receptionist said, still looking over at Mireille as she took the printouts.

"Thank you." Breffort walked over to Mireille. "My personal assistant, Charlotte, called in sick this morning. I've had to go back and forth between my office and Natalie here all day." Breffort gestured down the hall. "Shall we?"

Mireille started down the hall, lined with doors to offices, but deliberately slowed her pace so that Breffort moved ahead of her. Before long, they arrived at another door. Breffort opened one door and gestured to Mireille. "Please, take a seat."

Mireille cautiously entered the office. It was as she remembered. The office was large, probably eight metres by ten. Large windows formed the wall to the left. A tall bookcase, its shelves laden, sat behind the large wooden desk. To one side was a pair of three-drawer metal filing cabinets. Mireille sat down at one of the chairs flanking the small round coffee table that sat to one side.

Breffort stood by another chair. "Would you like something to drink? I can have someone bring tea or coffee."

Mireille shook her head. "No, thank you." Breffort was being quite hospitable, more so than on any other occasion. Mireille was automatically suspicious.

"Very well." He sat down at another chair. "I trust you are well?"

"I'm well enough," Mireille replied tersely. She was in no mood for small talk.

"And your partner?"

"Why did you have me followed?"

"I'm just making idle conversation." Breffort shifted, resting his cane against the table. "But, straight to business, I see." He leaned forward slightly.

"I heard what happened to Damien. Was it really necessary to shoot him? This was his first assignment for me."

"He got lucky. The next one of your goons who follows me dies."

Breffort nodded. "Thank you."

"You haven't answered my question."

"As I said before, the Soldats do not like to leave loose ends uncut. The Council insisted you be placed under observation."

Mireille stared evenly at Breffort. "For what? I did as you asked. I went to the Manor and took care of Altena for you. As far as I am concerned, that is the end of our relationship."

"Really? I didn't think you were so naive." Breffort paused, seemingly thinking over what he would have to say. "My offer still stands. You still do not wish to join us? Experience a life of privilege? Of power? As your parents were Soldats, you could think of it as your due inheritance."

Mireille bristled at the reference to her parents. "I told you: I'm not interested."

"You would stand to make some very powerful friends among us. Even if we did not agree with Altena's plans, Noir still commands respect among some of the Soldats."

She thought back to the woman at the cafe, claiming to be one of the 'true' Soldats who wanted her to take on the title of Noir. She wondered how much Breffort knew about this woman.

"As I said, you're all the enemy as far as I'm concerned." No need to get caught in a factional war.

"And your partner? Surely she isn't curious about her own past? Her real family?"

That threw Mireille. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"We know all about your partner. Join with us, and we will tell you everything she wants to know."

Mireille bit her lip, averting her gaze. There was no way she could ally herself with the organisation that ordered her parents killed for wanting to protect their daughter. Their prior alliance – if it could be called that – was one of convenience; they had had a common enemy, a common goal. As the old saying went, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Joining them now would violate her pride and integrity, not to mention a loss of independence and autonomy. She liked being a freelancer, and she didn't want to 'sell out', certainly not to them.

But as for Kirika...

Chances were the Soldats did know who Kirika's real family was and where they could be found. And Breffort was right: Kirika would most certainly want to know. However, she could already see how this would turn out: the Soldats could simply not tell them what they wanted to know, perpetually keeping the knowledge out of reach, or they would use the information as a means of control, offering tidbits or scraps of information – or the promise of revealing such information – in exchange for cooperation or obedience.

The bottom line was they would gain little, if anything.

She squarely looked Breffort in the face. "Tempting offer... but I'll have to pass."

"How... unfortunate." Breffort took a breath. "You should know, there are some within the Soldats who feel that your existence is a threat to us. Thus far I have made a case for keeping the two of you alive, but I may not be able to keep them in check indefinitely. Today's events may be proof in their eyes that you are too dangerous to be allowed to roam free. The Council may feel compelled to take action."

Mireille glared. The threat wasn't very subtle.

"Well, like I said, my offer still stands." Breffort grabbed his cane and got to his feet. "I would suggest that you tread very carefully and watch what you do. And please, if you come across any of our agents in the future, do not... take action, as you did today."

Breffort walked to the door and reached for the knob. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Bouquet, it is getting rather late, and I have work to finish. I'll see you to the door."