Darke Beginnings

Chapter #8

“Luc,” Martin whispered fiercely, shaking Lucien's shoulders. “Wake up, boy.”

For a moment, Lucien had forgotten he was home, at least as much home as his threadbare Uni student flat was. He opened his eyes and yawned, noticing that it was still dark outside. “For God's sake, Martin, what?” he asked, annoyed and half-asleep.

“They've found us,” Martin answered. He moved to Lucien's bureau and pulled out some clothes. “Get your ass dressed. We need to move.”

Lucien's eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, but, when they did, he could see the fear that had permeated Martin's face. He did as he was told, slipping the boxers and a pair of jeans on as he slid out from under his blankets, pulling the tee-shirt over his head and sliding his feet into the first pair of shoes he found there on the floor. As he stood up, he grabbed a hoodie from the end of the bed, sure it smelled like cigarette smoke from the last pub he'd worn it to, unconcerned about its state as he followed Martin from the room. “Where are we going?” he whispered as they made their way stealthily down the hallway.

“Washroom, then out the fire escape. I've called a taxi.” Martin grasped the bottom of Lucien's hoodie and pulled him behind him in the way a parent might keep hold of a toddler who was wont to escape. He checked out the corridor outside the flat and, when satisfied they were going to be unseen, pulled Lucien out. “Here,” he said, thrusting a pistol into Lucien's hand. “You might need this.”

Lucien pocketed it. “Are you sure about this?” he asked nervously. “That we've been found?”

Martin pulled his cell phone from his pocket and flashed a text on the screen. It was from Andre and said only one word: “Compromised.”

“Oh, shit,” Lucien mouthed. They stepped into the stairwell, backs against the wall as they carefully climbed down the levels to the basement laundry. When there was a noise, they stopped, Martin's arm flew across Lucien's chest, holding him back until the noise had passed and they sighed with slight relief. When at last they had safely navigated the three flights, Marin quietly opened the washroom door, flicking the light switch on the wall. “It's us,” he said lowly. He beckoned Lucien in and when he was through the door, he secured it both with the lock as well as by pushing a chair up under the handle.

“I'm glad you made it before they found you,” a voice came from the shadows. Andre emerged, his face beaten, holding his injured arm against his chest. “They ran me off the road and very nearly killed me.”
He was in the same clothes he wore when they had initially parted ways. “They managed to get very little from me before I escaped.”

“Did you tell them where we sent Juliet Marshall?” Martin asked, his brows furrowed. He sat down on a plastic chair opposite Andre.

The other man shook his head. “No, but they do know the identity of our associate,” he answered motioning to Lucien. “It's only a matter of time before they put everything together and end up here.”

Martin looked over to Lucien who stood against the block wall, arms crossed, face contorted in a smirk, eyes cast down at the floor as though he were lost in his own thoughts. “I believe it is time we initiate phase 2,” he said. “Luc, how do you feel about getting into the courier business?”

Lucien's eyes snapped up to Martin's. “What would that entail?” he asked.

“Well,” Martin took a deep breath, “It would mean a great many things. First of which would be parting ways with me, distancing yourself enough that they think you're no longer a threat. For all they know, the scene at the consulate was a one-time deal. You appeal to their need for someone who handles himself with a generous amount of tact and candor, which you do, and volunteer to run for them.”

“Which would mean what, exactly?” He was concerned about distancing himself from Martin, worried that his mentor needed his protection now more than ever.

Martin stood up and walked to him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Running whatever they need you to run.” He smiled a cheshire cat smile. “You would still work for me, of course, and report their activities for me.”

“Like a double agent?” Lucien raised his eyebrows, his eyes belying the interest he suddenly had. The thought of being on both sides of the fence was both frightening and tantalizing. He had only been trained in the business for a few months, formally, but as he thought about it, realized that Martin had been grooming him for the role since they had met. There had been more to the plans of getting out of the hospital and his mentoring than Lucien had picked up at the time. His mouth curling into a smile, he answered, “I like it.”

Andre came to stand beside them. “Are you sure of this?”

“I've been anticipating it,” Martin answered. “I wouldn't have asked if I didn't think Luc could do it.” He sat down again and patted the chairs next to him, inviting them men over. “What we need now is a way to get you in there,” he said to Lucien. “I've already faked my own death, once, I am sure they'd see through that.”

Lucien let a chuckle escape. “Is that how you ended up in the hospital?” When he noticed that Martin didn't share his amusement, the smile fell from his face. He thought for a moment and then suggested, “What if I just go in and surrender? I'm green enough it might be believable.”

“The boy has been in an asylum,” Andre interjected, “They might just think he'd broke again.” He tapped his temple with one finger. “That would be to our advantage.”

There came a knock on the door. “Hello? Is the washroom free?” a voice came from outside. The three men shut up, silently shooting glances at each other, hoping the student would leave. “Hello? I heard you talking.”

Lucien cleared his throat. In a deep voice, he yelled, “Out of order.”

They waited for a few more minutes and heard a huff and a grumble as the student retreated back up the stairs. “We should leave,” Andre said. “I know a back way.” He guided Martin and Luc to a mostly unused service door hidden behind a panel next to the circuit breaker. He jimmied the handle and opened it slowly, its progress hampered by a tall shrub that blocked it from the outside.

“How did you know that was here?” Lucien asked in surprise.

“I found it when I lived here with you,” Martin answered. “I knew it would come in handy some day.”

There were two cars at the curb. One was a taxi, the other a black sedan with heavily tinted windows. As the men approached them, both Martin and Andre turned towards Lucien. “I'm truly sorry for this,” Martin said, his hand balled into a fist landing square into Lucien's core. Andre followed suit, pulling his arm from its place on his chest and pummeling Lucien about the head until he dropped to the ground. As Lucien crumpled on the concrete, Martin and Andre continued their assault, kicking him in the ribs and behind the knees, drawing blood and bruises from him along with groans of pain.

“Why?” Lucien asked before he blacked out.

The driver of the sedan emerged and opened the back door. The three of them picked up Lucien's limp figure from the sidewalk and hoisted him into the back seat, folding his legs as they tried to get his entire length to fit in the cramped quarters. The driver shut the door and looked to Martin for further instructions. “You know what to do, now,” Martin said. The driver nodded silently before getting back into the sedan and speeding away.

“Poor fucker didn't have a clue,” Andre said coldly as they watched the car leave. “Do you think he'll catch on when he wakes up?”

Martin nodded. “He's quick, that one,” he answered. “I don't doubt that he'll catch on.”