In the eight years since Sherry had been a part of the Signer's misadventures, she had begun the arduous task of reclaiming her parent's company. There were many difficulties with her course of action. Once Yliaster had their grip on anyone or anything, they were reluctant to let go. Anybody who tried to stand directly against them generally met with unfortunate accidents or were more thoroughly destroyed. Her tactic to overcome this horrifying reality had been simple but effective – tell the truth. Without naming names, she had declared that a group had murdered her parents in an effort to claim their company. As sole surviving heir to the wealthy LeBlanc fortune, her claims had been taken a bit more seriously than most. Once DNA tests had confirmed her identity, she had set about a systematic purge of any possible trace of Yliaster from her company. Anybody who might have complained was pacified after she fired several corrupt division leaders and used their wealthy paychecks to raise the wage of the common worker.
Most people would have been satisfied with a wealthy company, lucrative contracts with everyone from KaibaCorp to Industrial Illusions and a mansion big enough to fit a small factory inside. Not Sherry. Barely as soon as her feet had touched home soil, she carefully began spreading a network of hidden people, unobtrusive investigators and outright criminal informants across not just Paris but most of her country. While she was unable to directly pursue Yliaster, this elaborate system gave her at least some warning about if they tried to retaliate to their loss. Of all her contacts, there was one she kept particularly close after he had proven almost omniscience about anything in Paris. It was this man they were going to see now.
Septime was the sort of exclusive restaurant that required five months notice to get a seat at the bar and handing over a first-born to maybe get a seat for dinner. Of all the clothes Crow had brought with him, he had put on the nicest jacket, smartest shirt, most expensive trousers and even combed his hair back until he looked halfway presentable by the high standards of the restaurant. "You look disappointed." Careful not to actually laugh at his face, Sherry squeezed past an overflowing dumpster and shouldered through a throng of smoking waiters in the crowded alleyway. Trying to mimic the manoeuvrer, Crow was reminded in no polite words that he was not a beautiful woman and didn't get the same leeway.
"When you said we'd be meeting your friend at Septime," Something squelched under his shoe and Crow decided not to check the damage. It was better he didn't know what he had stepped in. "I thought you meant in the nice part." Unlike himself, Sherry had dressed in practical jeans and a warm turtleneck jumper.
"These are the nice parts." A figure stepped out from the throng of waiters with a smirk on his narrow face. "Sherry!" Throwing up his hands, the figure moved to embrace her with the air of an old friend
"Sebastien!" She moved to do the same but suddenly lashed out and punched him square in the face. "You still owe me my seventy Francs."
"Ah, fiery as ever." Raising a hand, Crow saw that she had only made enough contact to tweak his nose. "Besides, you bought those notes fair and square."
"They were fakes and you know it." Bartering and intellectual flirtation flared in equal parts in the continuation of a game older than her relation to Crow. "Give me my money back."
"Aaaahh," Went the sort of stammer that preceded bad news. "How about a favour? Everybody needs a favour now and then, eh?" A gleam shot from her eyes and Sebastien saw the trap she had set. "Ah, Sherry. My friend," Sebastien covered his heart with both hands and turned to Crow. "She is like fire. Just when you think you have a handle on things, you get burnt." Criminal to criminal, Crow could see the act Sebastien was playing. He seemed like a laughing fool who got by with humour but dealt with the information he accrued more effectively than a few jokes could. "But you, you know this already." A glance went to Crow's bandaged hand.
"What, this?" Pulling back sleeve to reveal the neat wrapping down to his wrist, Crow gave a wry smile. "She caught me trying to sneak a look whilst she was in the shower." An unspoken moment passed before two conmen burst out laughing. They had each gauged the other and evaluated their worth with the trained eyes of a criminal.
"You take care of this one, Sherry. He is a good man." Pushing Crow back by one shoulder, Sherry gave a tight smile to indicate the opening of the business phase.
"That remains to be seen." Sebastien caught the professional tone and instantly morphed from jokester to criminal informant.
"I take it you're going to ask me for that favour now." Tugging his jacket straight, he dropped the laughing tones. "Since you brought along some help, I'm guessing it's for something big." Not offended at being referred to as the 'help', Crow watched the bargaining unfold with a calculating eye. Sherry and Sebastien had history but neither was playing it as an advantage just yet.
"What have you heard lately?" It didn't take a genius to understand what they were talking about.
"Hey, scram. Get back to work." Handing over small piles of bills, he hurried the staff back into the kitchen. Within minutes, there was enough noise to drown out their conversation. "Cigarette?" Pulling a slim stick from his pocket, he offered the box to the other two people in the alley. Lighting his own, he held it there long enough to measure their decision of earning favour over holding true to their convictions. "By myself then." Taking a deep drag on the death stick, he politely blew the smoke in the opposite directions from his clients. "How much does he know?"
"Enough." Eyeing Crow up and down, the other criminal nodded once.
"Hmm. It's hard trying to keep tabs on this group you don't even name." Taking another drag on the stick, he savoured the nicotine rush. "Nobody wants to talk about them for some reason. Maybe it's all the bodies they don't find. That's the trick." Stabbing the glowing tip several times, he glared with a trained eye. "Finding the places nobody is talking about. Of course, sometimes people don't talk because they have no reason to?" It was clear what he meant. A tantalising tease was free to most people who came his way but anything more would cost them.
"How much did those francs cost?" Squinting at Sherry's game face, he sought cracks to wriggle through. Years of training had taught her not to display any and she was the better player.
"Touché." Dragging deeply until his cigarette fizzled out, he crushed the remaining portion in his fist and slipped it into his pocket. People like Sebastien only kept themselves in business by avoiding leaving any trace behind. Even the brand had been selected because the ash would crumble down too finely to be easily found and left little lingering smell. "Hypothetically, what if you only had a few days to act on what I know? Would that maybe net me a little something?"
"It would maybe incentivise me to get you to talk." As much as Sherry didn't like the interruption, she had to stifle a smile at Crow's empty threats. Only those who knew him in advance would know it was a bluff but it was a damn good one. "Kneecaps are a good one. Slow to fix, lots of pain." Again, Sebastien had to evaluate the new player in the conversation.
"You must really like her." All humour had dropped from the conversation now. It was polite but deadly serious. Unlike Sherry, who was blinded by a previous history with Crow, Sebastien could see there was no bluff. Crow would really break a few bones to get the information the Frenchman was hiding.
"I'm mostly in this for my own reasons." Flicking his gaze between the pair, Sebastien came to a decision.
"Walk with me." Dragging a bag from behind the dumpster, he lead the pair out of the alleyway and down a series of side-streets before picking the conversation back up. "These people you are looking for, they are dangerous." A car came up from behind and Sebastien dropped down a gear as it came parallel. Enough close calls had missed him in the past that he lowered the odds of a succession as much as possible. Driving slowly, Sebastien waited until it had left the end of the street and they had joined a new one before he continued talking. "I have lost two people already. That is not uncommon but nobody can be certain who did it. Put this on." Dragging a pair of thick black coats from his bag, he passed one to Sherry and donned the other himself. "Turn out your jacket, it has a dark lining, no?" Caught up in the fast-paced criminal activity, Crow felt the familiar rush of thrill that came with being chased. It was intoxicating after so many years.
"Where are we going?" Turning onto the main road, both lesser criminals marvelled at the skills and planning of the master before them.
"To a funeral." Sliding a black cap over to Crow and Sherry, Sebastien turned up his collar. Crossing the road, they joined a long procession of easily several hundred people. "A big lady in the community died, lovely lady. I actually bought her a beautiful vase once. She sold it and broke my heart." That jovial attitude was marred by a sincere note of sorrow. "Used the money to fund a local school with extra resources. Wonderful woman." Sliding to the other side of Crow, he linked their arms together. "Hey, last time I tried this with her, she broke two of my ribs. You want my help, you take that risk." Gingerly holding out his arm, Crow withered under the distasteful aura coming from his right side. In grim silence, they joined the funeral procession.
It was a slow and panicking walk. Every inch he went, Crow scanned a new face. Chasing after Yliaster was not without risk. Any one of the grieving mourners could slip a blade between his ribs and mix in with the crowd before anybody realised. "Relax." A waft of lavender perfume heightened his panic as Sherry leaned into his ear. "You'll attract too much attention."
"She's right, monsieur." Sebastien leaned in from the other side and finalised a disturbing little cluster of criminality. "Relax your shoulders, breathe in that air. Drink in the sorrow of these people," A broken jaw loomed in his future. "Realise that life happens regardless. The only score that matters is the people who cry at your passing." As futures so often do, this one passed unfulfilled. Lowering his stance slightly, Crow took more note of his surroundings as people instead of potential targets. Dozens of women were crying, a few confused children were huddling together here and there. Men trying to be tough marched in stony silence with the occasional tear leaking out. Dozens of people, maybe hundreds had turned out for one little old lady. Maybe only a small percentage had personally known her, maybe they all only had a passing familiarity. Regardless of the reason, nearly a thousand people had crammed into the tiny cemetery. Only a few people would be allowed to fit in at the final ceremony but they all turned up anyway.
"It's nice." For the first time since being sent to the Netherworld, he tried for a smile that didn't have to fool his family. It was sadder than happy and full of pain but it was progress.
"This way." Breaking from the flow of the crowd, Sebastien practically dragged them towards a small mausoleum with a rusty gate. A sharp squeal was lessened by holding tight to the gate. Once they had all slipped inside, he closed the gate again and backed into the room. Looking through the grate, it was strange to see people walking past just inches away without even seeing them. Holding a quiet finger to his lip, Sebastien led the trio deeper into the tombs, down stairwells and along corridors. Whoever had built that particular design had planned for plenty of future corpses. "Okay, we can stop here." Halting at a crossroads deep beneath the ground, Sebastien carelessly tipped some decaying flowers from a dusty pot. "Empty your pockets in here." Glancing at Sherry, Crow waited until she gave a nod before following the order. "Can't be too careful." In the spirit of comradeship, Sebastien dropped everything he had – par a fresh cigarette – into the vase as well. Sliding it down behind a raised altar, he lead them down another dusty tunnel.
At the end lay a pair of shackled gates with a carefully coloured chain and lock. At a glance, it seemed that it was just another locked gate for nobody to enter through but Crow spotted the discrepancies almost as fast as Sherry did. The chain wasn't rusted and peeling but painted in shades of brown and coated in metal flakes. Though the keyhole cover probably was jammed in that position, it was enough to scrape a thin key past. Behind the gate just lay a rotten wooden door that was out of place with the rest of mausoleum décor of dusty varnish. In the time it took most people to dismiss the door, both of them had figured out what lay behind and Crow knew enough to be officially impressed by Sebastien's skill set.
One of the many famous French attractions to tourists the world over is the Parisian Catacombs. Built as a refuge from the overflowing cemeteries, they had been largely forgotten until the early 19th century had recreated them as a macabre venue for small concerts and private parties. What few people bothered to find out was their origins as part of a subterranean mine system. After years of abandonment and neglect, cave-ins started posing a threat to the people above ground, Paris had formed a team to ensure their upkeep, stability and safety of the peoples above. Though legally off limits to civilians, a few more daring thieves made use of the tunnels to sneak about. It was dangerous and often fatal but a handful had persevered.
Unlike the rusty gate to get inside, the entrance to the underground tunnels opened soundlessly with only the noise of the rattling chain to disturb the dead. Reaching through the gates, Sebastien secured the padlock once again before closing the doors and plunging them all into relative darkness cast by the dangling cigarette. After a moment of quiet rustling and a sharp slap, light blossomed in the hands of the Frenchman. "Ah, here we go." He looked at the growing strain on Crow's face then to Sherry's scowl and crossed arms. "To business?"
"Why all the secrecy?" Something scurried in the tunnel behind him and Crow shivered in instinctive fear.
"It's my lucky day." Careful not to drop the tiny torch, Sebastien rubbed his hands in glee. "I've got something big to sell." There was something about the look in his eye. It wasn't greedy exactly. More like the satisfaction of a long-con suddenly paying off.
"What do you know?" Something about the way his greed was shining through unnerved Crow. It usually meant one of two things. Either the information was extremely important or time sensitive. Both put the balance of power with the person in the know and let them force up the price.
"That group you're looking for? One of my friends has heard whispers where they might be hiding. That woman you told me to keep an ear out for is with them as well, got into Paris just today." Uneasy silence echoed around the narrow passage as Crow looked at Sherry and was blanked in return.
"What woman?" Standing slightly closer, Crow did his best not to overly intimidate her with the pressure of the question. "What woman, Sherry?" It was a non-question at best. Their overlap in female acquaintances was a short list of fewer than five people. With Luna and Akiza heading back to New Domino and unless Martha had taken to jetting off without notice, there was really only the one person it could be.
"Nobody told me she had woken up. If it had not been for the tournament, I would not have known she was still alive." Sebastien watched the exchange with glee. Information was well and good but juicy gossip greased palms better and easier than crumpled bills. Keeping the tap on just took a few careful nudges.
"This woman, she is important, no? Since she went in, nobody has come out. Lots of deliveries though." There it was, a tiny pause from all the parties as water began creeping higher up the banks of the information river. "Could it be worth something to know what the little bird told me?" Criminals who work on the street learn to see fast and react faster. It was possible that nobody else in the criminal population of France had better reactions than Sebastien. As his palms rose to stop the attack, Crow had the skill and inclination to grip at least one finger from each hand and included it in the grip he suddenly had of the funeral jacket.
"From one 'little bird' to another?" Acting more out of professional concern for her contact than genuine care, Sherry was spewing empty threats at Crow from behind. Whatever inner conviction that was driving him forward had the possibility of also driving the price down. "Share the worm before the bigger bird gets angry with you." After long enough to make his point, Crow lowered the struggling feet back to the floor. It had only been the heat of the moment that had let him pick up the information broker and the strain took a toll as soon as the adrenaline spike had flared down. "Just tell us what you can. We can negotiate a price after." It took a long time – and Sherry agreeing to drop the cost of her fake francs – before Sebastien agreed to the revised terms.
"Schools are out for summer at the moment. Buildings stand empty, resources go unused. What are the authorities to do? Loan them out for quick cash." What schooling Crow had undertaken prior to the rejoining of Satellite to New Domino had been frequent and unending at the kitchen table by a roster of retired professionals Martha knew about the wastelands. It was surprisingly advanced over the city kids but it been without that social paradigm of proper schooling so terms like 'holiday' where theoretical. "Unless they stopped caring about making money, one of them is unusually quiet for this time of year. Not just the school but all the normal crimes as well. Drugs, women, gambling. Nothing normal has happened since this chick showed up yesterday." Chewing over his options, he looked between the two. Years of working with Sherry had built a professional trust and Crow looked ready to tear off a few limbs. "Check out University Eight. A guy I know sent me a picture of that girl going in, then everything goes weird. Lots of deliveries, nobody on campus. Official word is security testing but my guys in that business haven't heard anything of the sort." Security guards gossiped so much that they were the biggest flaw in any system. If they didn't know anything, it was because somebody was making sure that nobody knew.
"University Eight? You're sure?" Operating from the university was a near perfect ploy. It would allow Yliaster access to nearly impossible resources and meant any number of experts could waltz around in broad daylight without the need to explain themselves.
"Hey, I've been paid more for less." A practical businessman, Sebastien didn't waste time trying to make a mountain out of his molehill. "Speaking of pay?" Look Sebastien straight in the eye, Crow searched for deception. It was in everything the broker did but not in his information.
"Twice your usual rate if you can get us there undetected." A wince from Sherry indicated it was a costly offer. Information brokers who never failed to deliver inevitably had high prices attached.
"Done." Grabbing Crow's hand before he could move, Sebastien shook it with the greed of a businessman stealing a small fortune. "I like you, Sherry, but your friend is stupid." It was the handshake that did it. Without even realising, Sebastien had jumped into a bear trap with both feet and a smile.
"Not as much as you think. University Eight is just beside the St Denis station. There are cameras in every direction for an easy mile and every single one of them will be used." Tightening his grip enough to be uncomfortable but not painful, Crow continued talking. "Of course, you knew all this which is why you brought us into the catacombs first. Tunnels stretch all across the centre of Paris but can't go as far north as University Eight in Saint-Denis." That grip was now tight enough to feel the pounding heart inside each finger. "A tributary of the Seine cuts them off. Did you know Napoleon set the first plans?" Tearing his grip free, Sebastien was forced to reevaluate the small man once again. His knowledge of France was extensive.
"Not many people know this but a hidden tunnel was constructed between the cathedral and the catacombs by André Félibien during the early eighteenth century. He feared rebels would steal their relics led him to advise the king to create a secret connection to the catacombs." Only a few documents in museum archives record the changes in the subterranean systems. Only some old documents and a few skilled thieves who knew how to get past police blockades. "During the French Revolution, insurgents led a mob to do just such a thing but the treasures had been spirited away. Priests declared it an 'act of god' to avoid scandal." It was a story that deserved to go down in history and might one day – if Sebastien lived long enough to retire and share the secret. "We can walk there in an hour. After that, I can stroll across the park to the hospital and borrow an ambulance." An unabashed air spoke volumes to his familiarity with either the staff or the theft. Both worked well. "I deliver you to the university morgue as fresh corpses for the biology students and you can snoop around for as long as you want. Getting out is your problem." In an unconscious display of self-congratulation, he reached for the pocket his cigarettes usually waited in.
Egads, a surprise chapter?! Best leave a review!
This chapter is dedicated to my friends, Karla and Nick, who each taught me a lot and gave me some great opportunities over the years.