Anticipation
It was snowing again. Icy needles were settling lightly on the clothes of passers-by, turning them into irregular white figures.
Odd sneezed. "I don't understand why this fell to you and me in the end!"
Jeremy smiled. "No, you probably wouldn't. But consider this: Ulrich and Yumi evidently need to make peace with one another, but they would never have agreed to stay alone in the Hermitage together. Hence Aelita had to stay behind with them."
"But I could have stayed behind instead! I would have had them signing an armistice in a nanosecond!"
"More likely you would convince them to skip the niceties of diplomacy and have them jump straight into kung-fu negotiations!" Jeremy concluded, sniggering.
He wasn't sure what exactly had transpired between the two of them, but he was certain that at some point William Dunbar had entered the picture. The majority of Yumi and Ulrich's arguments revolved around him in some form or another.
Funny, even though William had been kicked out of the Lyoko group, he sure still knew how to stir up drama without even realizing it.
The grey sky grew darker still, until it was as black as the surface of the road they followed through the buildings and streets of the city.
"Exactly what are we looking for?" Odd asked after a while.
"117 Rue de Tivoli" Jeremy reminded him. "It's the address of a firm of contractors called Broulet & Brothers. If they really did some work on the Hermitage, and assuming someone there still remembers Hopper, they might be able to provide us with some information."
"How much time has passed since when they probably worked on the house?"
"At least eleven years. Possibly more."
"Uh-huh" commented Odd. "It seems to me that we're out here catching pneumonia for nothing."
The two boys crossed the Place de la Revolution, an open square of dark paving tiles surrounded by small shops bedecked with Christmas lights. They cut down Rue de Pro¬ vence and passed several people wrapped up in waterproof jackets, waiting for a bus that would never come.
"Rue de Tivoli should be the second or third road on the left."
It was an anonymous street of offices. As they proceeded down it, the smart buildings gave way to poorer buildings in dire need of repair, alternating with sad warehouses.
"Hey, this is only Number 2!" Odd had said, indicating the address of the first of the grand civic buildings. "Great, another lovely long walk lies ahead of us."
It felt like trekking up to Calvary, the wind smacking at their cheeks and whirling more and more snowflakes into their eyes. The sidewalks were treacherous frozen panes of glass and so instead the boys trudged up the middle of the road, where snowplows had sowed salt and transformed the snow-covered asphalt into dense and muddy slush.
Their destination was an old and shabby building, perhaps the most run-down on the entire street. The front, which in better days had probably been a beautiful olive green, was now almost grey and the snow stuck to the surface as if it was fly paper. The door was a simple brass frame supporting two dark and filthy glass doors. The intercom beside it had twelve buttons, and none of them was marked with a name.
"Alright Einstein" said Odd. "It's a dead end. No-one's lived here for at least a century."
"We should try some of the buttons at random. Or do you want to start straight back?"
They looked down the long street back to Rue de Provence and sighed. Then they mashed all the buttons simultaneously and stood waiting.
"Goodness knows if this still works" Jeremy grumbled, stabbing randomly at some of the buttons again.
Then, from behind the glass doors a thin voice could be heard: "I'm coming! I'm coming! Always rushing about. Today is a holiday, you know?"
A key turned in the lock and the door shook, but still didn't open. Then Odd seized one of the door handles, yanked it towards himself and found himself holding an impressively elderly lady between his arms.
She was very short and very frail, like a little girl. The skin on her face, stretched tight over the cheeks, was almost transparent and her little eyes looked tired but kind.
"Oh, my!" The old lady exclaimed, docilely liberating her¬ self from Odd's embrace. "You really are quite hasty, young man!"
"Excuse me Madam..." replied Jeremy, somewhat embarrassed. "We're looking for someone from the firm of Broulet & Brothers. Is this the correct address?"
The old lady smiled. "Aren't you a little young to be in the builder's trade? In any case, yes, you have the correct address. You better come inside. It's too cold to be doing much talking outside."
"But is Mister Broulet here?"
She did not answer, limiting herself to inviting them inside. "I've just made tea."
Jeremy and Odd shared a fleeting glance. A cup of tea didn't seem like such a bad idea right now.
The lady, Marie Lemoine, lived in an apartment on the ground floor of the building, with several items of furniture that had seen better days, a prehistoric black-and-white tele¬ vision, and a radio the size of a sideboard that was crackling out music from the last century.
The tea was faded in worn ceramic cups, along with a plate full of biscuits of a decidedly dubious appearance. Odd inserted one in his mouth and Jeremy saw his eyes bulge as he forced himself to chew. He decided not to try them.
"Perhaps they aren't as fresh as they used to be" admitted the old lady. "It's not often that I have guests, you see."
Jeremy decided that the time had come to explain the purpose of their visit. "As I indicated beforehand, Miss Lemoine, we are looking for Mister Broulet."
"Of the firm Broulet & Brothers" appended the woman. "Now they haven't worked out of here for quite some time."
"Do you remember anything about them?"
Marie gave Jeremy a severe glare. "For your information young man, I have been the superintendent in this building for almost twenty years, and I have a photographic memory.
If you thought I'd forget Philipe, Jean-Jacques and Jean-Pierre Broulet then you're much mistaken. They had an office here on the first floor for ten years, until... Care for another biscuit?"
With surprising agility, the old lady picked one of them up off the plate and threw it straight into Odd's mouth, who quickly turned purple and started coughing violently.
Marie Lemoine continued: "As I was saying, they were here for ten years before Jean-Pierre and Jean-Jacques died. An unfortunate work accident. Corrine, the girl who helped them with the accounting, told me that the two brothers were working on a scaffold. They didn't have many workers, it was a small firm, and the sad truth is that the scaffold collapsed.
Philipe was the youngest brother, the kind of person who was always cheerful. But in just six months he had sold the firm and rented the offices out to Mister Gaston. Now there was a gentleman, if I don't say so myself, there was this one occasion..."
"And Philipe? What happened to him?" Jeremy cut in.
Marie seemed somewhat annoyed by the interruption. "He moved to a city in the south. He said he couldn't bring himself to stay here anymore."
"When did all this happen, what year?"
Marie sipped calmly at her tea, enjoying being the subject of their total attention. It seemed she was taking her time so as not to ruin the suspense. "You two little boys are very strange. You come here, on a Sunday afternoon, to interrogate me about things that happened over a decade ago! In any case, it's been...let me see...when was it that Philipe moved away?"
She suddenly turned to Odd. "You are quite the smiley type, and quite a gourmet. Are you sure you wouldn't care for another biscuit?"
Odd remained immobile with his lips sealed, fearful of finding another one lodged in the bottom of his throat.
Jeremy decided to intervene in the interest of protecting his friend.
"Miss Lemoine" he said in the most well-mannered tone he could manage. "I apologise for asking this of you, but did Philipe leave any means by which you could contact him? I don't know, maybe a telephone number?"
"Of course! He left his new address and telephone num¬ ber, so that we could arrange for his payments to be suspended, along with various other matters. Closing a business is a complicated affair you know. There's a mountain of bureaucracy to overcome. Suppliers to settle with, contracts that need to be ended..."
"And do you still have that address?"
"Why are you interested?"
Jeremy bit his lip, trying to think of a quick excuse which at the same time would sound convincing.
"My friend," He indicated towards Odd, "is Mister Broulet's grandson, and he's never met his grandfather."
At those words, the old lady rose from her chair and plant¬ ed a rough kiss on each of Odd's cheeks. "PhiIipe's grandson'. I never knew he had a son or a daughter...but yes, I can see the resemblance! You have his eyes! And how come you have never met your darling grandfather, young man?"
Jeremy kept improvising. "Err...well...it's a very sad story! Philippe's daughter, the mother of my friend, had to move to Paris and unfortunately has lost her memory. But she's told us so much about everything that..."
"She told you? How can she if she's lost her memory?"
Jeremy had become entangled in his own story, and it was up to Odd to try and cut him free. "Might I have another cup of tea Miss?" he asked innocently. "Thank you for being so kind" he added quickly. "You know, this has always been my dream. To reunite the family I mean..."
Marie Lemoine's expression melted into a smile, and she seemed to cast aside any uncertainties. "Of course, of course. You poor young thing. I'll go looking for your grandfather's address. I've got an archive of all the old building ten¬ ants in the living room, it'll be somewhere in there..."
The old lady shuffled into another room and returned several minutes later, a crumpled slip of paper in her hand.
"Here it is! He doesn't live in the city anymore, but you can find him here..."
She pressed the scrap of paper into Odd's hands.
When they were back outside, surrounded once more by the snow, Jeremy looked amusedly at Odd. "Tell me the truth. Were those biscuits really that horrible?'
"You have no idea."
Jeremy laughed heartily.
The first flight to Switzerland was due to take off at six in the morning and the loudspeakers were instructing its passengers to head towards the boarding gate. Eva Skinner started off through the long corridors, dragging behind her a rigid trolley that she was using to carry her hand luggage. She had changed her clothes, and now was wearing a pair of smart jeans and a color-stained T-shirt.
She was smiling.
To her mind humans were very complicated creatures. To travel from America to Switzerland required her to purchase a ticket and they needed visas and special permits because she was a 'minor' and 'unaccompanied'. There was the necessity of luggage and clothing. Eva passed the retail outlets and the duty-free stores that were one by one opening for business in the huge terminal building.
She studied the monitors in search of her gate. Number 27. She had to follow the signs and get a move on; the flight was already boarding.
And once she arrived in Switzerland she would have to travel on foot to where the original Schaeffer residence had been.
Where it had all begun.
"Would you like a drink, sir?"
Megabyte raised John's eyebrow as he browsed the list of potential beverages, seeing nothing similar to any energy or quantum shakes he had been accustomed to back in cyberspace.
"I seem to have had a sudden memory loss, but what is my favorite refreshment again?" He asked, while rubbing his head to sell the point.
The hostess pointed to one of the drinks and he nodded. She brought a cold drink with ice inside before leaving the cabin.
He took a sip…
And immediately spat it back out.
"Ah! Repugnant!" Megabyte shook his head. "Users actually drink such things? How are they still functioning?"
Perhaps things would not be as easy as he thought.
He had expected a few difficulties but if he couldn't handle a simple drink, he wondered how long he could handle being in this body.
The hostess smiled. She was a nice girl, wearing a comical little hat that was matched with a chaste tailored uniform bearing the name of the airline.
"Your name please?"
"Eva. Eva Skinner."
"One moment please."
She keyed something into her computer and then smiled again.
"One seat booked in first class. Travelling unaccompanied. Fine. Young lady, could you please show me your boarding pass and the authorization of your parents?"
"Of course."
Eva handed the woman a brochure for a chain of fast-food restaurants that she had found on the floor shortly before hand: Cheeseburger deal, only $1.25. Children eat free.
In handing it to the hostess, she painstakingly ensured that her long fingers brushed against hers.
The woman opened her brochure, which contained a big colour photograph of a cheeseburger, and nodded with a blank expression. "That's fine young lady, you can pass. My colleague on board will direct you to your seat.
Eva nodded and moved onwards. Then she slipped with the other passengers into the long metal tube that led into the aircraft.
The first class was almost empty.
Next to Eva, but separated from her by a little aisle, a woman in a dark suit was concentrating as she worked on her laptop computer, and on her other side, was a rather elderly gentleman. He had been dozy even before they took off and was now dribbling on a five hundred dollar tie.
"Miss Skinner, is everything alright?" Another hostess enquired, wearing the same smile and the same uniform as the one from the boarding gate. "You can unfasten your seatbelt now that we have departed. Would you like anything to drink?"
"I'll have the same as that gentleman" Eva answered, indicating the sleepy man.
"A cognac? Ha ha, I don't think that would be suitable miss. Maybe you'd prefer a glass of fruit juice?"
"Yes. That."
The hostess hurried back up the aircraft's long aisle, her hips wiggling. She seemed happy to be making herself useful. Perhaps that was how she was paid: making her feel useful.
The armchairs here in first class were so big and soft, comfortable. Perhaps she should sleep without having to worry about what happened to the body of Eva Skinner, XANA could calmly reflect and plan ahead.
There were so many things that it had to consider: for example, how to befriend those children and earn their trust.
And above all else, how to kill them.
Yumi, Jeremy, Odd, Aelita and Ulrich arrived at Kadic's main gate about ten minutes late.
Eventually they had fallen asleep. But hardly an hour had passed before their alarm clock began to ring. And so there they were, breathing heavily and their eyes burning after a sleepless night.
"And so it begins, again" commented Odd.
"We have two hours of chemistry first" said Jeremy, checking his schedule.
"I've got history" added Yumi. "And I better get moving, Professor Fumet is usually already in the classroom by now."
Ulrich smiled. "Guys, we're better off discussing this another time, alright?"
Yumi transferred her rucksack of books from one shoulder to another.
"Well, the Prof waits for no man. I've really got to head off guys."
"We'll see each other at dinner then, in the cafeteria."
"Awesome. Well, have a good first day everybody." She answered, quickly setting off up the path beyond the gate, continuing ahead of the others.
It was January and finally it had stopped snowing.
Weak but bright sunlight sparkled on the freshly salted streets. The footprints of many little gym shoes were trampled into the path leading up to Kadic's entrance.
Five children who were almost dead on their feet started running up the frozen driveway. Happy to still be together, in spite of everything.
Before them rose the academy's palatial main building, solemn and majestic. But there was nothing threatening about it: the winter sun was shining on the closed windows and the great main door was wide open to receive them.
They entered with a jump.