THE HIT BACK SERIES (Order From Chaos)

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter thirteen

"At this hour,
lie at my mercy all mine enemies." -William Shakespeare.

[Couple months back]
The 'Indicatif ADP' chime was the telltale sign needed to know this was Paris's Charles De Gaulle airport. Better known as 'Rosy Airport', the octopus-shaped airport was indeed living up to being the second busiest airport in Europe, as hundreds of travelers; black, White, and yellow-skinned streamed to and fro its Avant-garde 'Terminal one'.

Agent Lestienne of the Interpol disregarded the booming female voice announcing over the PA system, taking two steps at a time away from the central court as he descended the tube sheltered escalator that fed straight into the expanse of the terminal hall.

He knew he had to reach his destination-the baggage-claim on the fifth floor in time, before things went down the drain, for good. And so, he stepped up his pace even further, sifting through endless columns of traversing travelers and scanning for any familiar faces.

And while the pullulating sea of crowds and his clothing-a starched, checkered T-shirt, and blazer pants, held up by suspenders proved anything but to deter him, he held on to a bantam of hope, panting as he coursed through the teeming terminal hall.

Unlike most sections of the terminal, the arrivals' baggage claim was the least bristling, with an ever-thinning line of arriving passengers eagerly waiting their turn to collect their belongings from the fast-moving conveyor belt.

Agent Lestienne appeared out of the blue panting, doubled-over in a bid to get his wind back. He had eventually made it to the baggage-claim area in record time. And more so, as lady luck would have it, he had found the men for whom he had picked the race, which would have probably earned him a bronze medal at the least in an Olympic race.

In what was barely seconds, he'd regained his wind, and moving toward the position of the men, plainly cold-shouldering the askance looks hurled his way by the bevy of passengers.

"Sorry gentlemen," He began cautiously and furthered on more cleanly upon having their attentions. "You've got to come with me now."

"But for what?" One of them asked, a little on edge. "Thought we were just cleared now by one of your own."

"I'm afraid, I'm not at liberty to explain that to you, sir."

They all shared a savvy look and nodded afterward.

"Lead the way, please." Another urged while they took the agent's quick spun around as a clue to follow him back the way they'd come.

Hundred yards or so away, three other men were making their way out of the airport in a self-same gait through the terminal, toward the turf, where a long queue of vehicles was waiting.

The seemingly distinct of the trio-the yellow-skinned dude was spruced up in all glory: with new crew curls, that did all to better fine-tuned his nerd-looking features; bulgy, wire-rimmed all-new spectacles and a pair of yellow sneakers, which alternates well with his gray tracksuit and pants.

"You know what guys," He was saying to his compatriots, who seem unbothered by his light banter. "If we so much want out of this, I think the time is now. You know we could hop in a cab now and kiss all the craps of the past weeks goodbye."

His words were flat and round as they come got the other men stopped in their tracks.

"You'd better be joking," The one in all-black outfit said unmoved. Virtually, nothing had changed in him, except that he was less recluse. "And if this is one of your stunts to do us in, then, you'd better quit fooling around." He finished and marched head-on.