High Steaks: A Bjorn Trilogeé Adventure

Chapter 6: Abe

Abe pulled over in front of the Spur Du Moment bar, placed his new mustache above his lip and walked onto the front porch. He pushed open the door and realized that while it looked like splintered old wood, it was actually smooth to the touch. In fact all of this wood had the similar effect. Upon further inspection, Abe noticed that this entire exterior was made out of mahogany ... cleverly painted to appear rustic.

The interior was just as deceiving. The floors were marble, the walls were mahogany and the bar top was gold trimmed ... yet the decor in this place told a different tale. There were tacky Christmas lights strung around the room, Dallas Cowboys paraphernalia and a poster that read 'Remember D'Alamo'. Abe found the entire place rather comical, and he chuckled to himself as he took a seat at the bar.

"Bartender, I will have a beer and a shot please."

"Coming right up, partner." The bartender had a very thick French accent and it sounded quit ridiculous pared with his phony Southern twang. But, it was nothing compared to the strangeness of this man's outfit. He wore a full tuxedo, paired with cowboy boots and an obnoxiously large ten-gallon hat. His handlebar mustache was perfectly maintained, rivaling only that of Rollie Fingers.

"What is your name, partner?" asked the barkeep.

Just as Abe was about to answer, it suddenly dawned on him that his current name was a façade. The identity had been given to him by the Underground. Abe Adguy may be who he is, but it is not who he was. For years now, his past had remained locked in the recess of his mind, but now he can feel it struggling to get out.

"Partner is fine," Abe answered with a tone of morose in his voice.

The bartender placed a Bordeaux glass of beer and a shot glass of chardonnay on the bar top. "Ouiiiii haaaa cowboy!" he yelled as he slid the drinks down the bar. Unfortunately, they traveled barely seven inches before falling off the side and smashing to the floor.

"I can never get that right," said the bar man, shaking his head, "let me get you another drink. And may I recommend one of our famous hamburgers, they are ...how do you English say? Ahh yes, 'funky fresh' "

"Yeah, we don't say that."

"My mistake, monsieur. Here is your beer and shot...on the house," he said, putting the glass carefully in front of Abe.

Abe drank them down greedily. The beer was actually quite good, but a shot of wine is just ridiculous. The bartender grinned at him. "The hamburger sir, would you like? We have recently received a large complementary shipment of Grade A stuff from the United States. They are called Bilderburgers and I hear they are ... how do you say, off zee hook."

"No thanks, I never touch the stuff," replied Abe.

The jukebox kicked on and 'Wild Wild West' by Kool Moe Dee started playing. Abe reached into his pocket and produced a hundred euro note. He tossed it confidently onto the bar. "Listen. I could use some information. You look like the type of guy that may have this information. You scratch my back and I scratch yours. Now I am looking for a man named Philippe Pouvoirs. Have you seen him?"

The bartender stroked his mustache. "Hmmm. I may have seen him. Then again, I may not have."

Abe reached into his pocket and produced another hundred. "Perhaps this will jog your memory." The bartender grabbed the money, "yeah I saw him. But I can't recall where and when." Abe tossed a third hundred onto the bar. "Yes. Now I remember. He is sitting right behind you, right now!"

There he was, the next target, Philippe Pouvoirs. He was just sitting there alone munching happily on a burger and drinking a glass full of beer. So content with his existence and so ignorant to all the damage that he has done. Abe knew that he could not kill this man right here in the open. There were at least ten other patrons that would become witnesses to his deed. He had to lure him into the bathroom.