The Living Statue

27.

The air was charged, tension between the three men almost palpable. I've never seen Mr. Torres like that. The calm, sensible exterior was gone and all that was left was a man with no patience and the fire in his eyes. Alive, smouldering fire that was impossible not to notice.

At first the men spoke in German, so I couldn't understand most of their conversation. But I am not stupid. I didn't have to know the language to understand that whatever this meeting had to with was no good.

After awhile, they switched to English, most likely at Mr Torres' insistance. It turned out the older man, Walter, was Sebastian's father and together they owned Weber & Co. Obviously, I had come across that name a couple of times while I sorted out the paperwork. Their company is located in Germany, and as far as I know they are one of the most important associates of North Empire.

"The point is, Mr. Weber," Mr. Torres said, his gaze fixed on the older man, "I do not want you interferring with my business. There is an unwritten rule. Whoever gets it first, it's his. That rule applies to everything in life, really. Take women, for example. I'm sure you would not appreciate another man touching your woman now, would you?" His gaze lingered on me before halting on Sebastian. A lump rose in my throat.

"I understand what you are saying, Mr. Torres. I really do. But I cannot remember one time we interferred in your business. You cover England and Belgium, we cover Germany and Sweden. The last time I checked we shared the french territory," Walter said, his eyes searching Mr Torres' expression over his steepled fingers.

There was something about businessmen. The way they moved and talked, as if there was a certain code of conduct to which they all adhered to. Like they all share certain genes. It's a weird thing, considering the evident bigotry between them.

Mr Torres' lips curled into his infamous half-moon grin, dangerous and polite all at once. "I would like if we could all skip the pretense. I've seen the document which was signed by none other than your son," he said calmly. Not once did Mr. Torres directly adressed Sebastian Weber, I noticed. As if he pretended he was not there at all.

Sebastian leaned forward, his piercing blue eyes narrowed. "As far as I can remember, Mr. Torres, no one had sovereignty over weapon industry."

Weapons?

I did my best to cover my surprise, but to no avail. Mr. Torres glanced my way, quickly, once. Then again. If he paniced inside or felt awkward in the slightest, he didn't show it. I could no longer see the fire in his eyes I saw at the beginning of the meeting. He was once again cool and collected as ever.

"This is no ordinary weapon, Sebastian. I claimed it first. I signed the contract with Leopold. Only to find out two months later you signed one too. That is a direct violation of the aforementioned rule," said Mr. Torres. "I am not here to discuss the matter, I have no time nor intention to argue with you. I am simply here to tell you that the contract we made three years ago is no longer valid."

"Hey, hey," Walter  Weber put in, raising his hands as if in surrender. "Let's be sensible here. There is no need to go that far. Mr. Torres, you are a reasonable man. This collaboration is very important for both of our empires. Surely you agree with that?"

"Oh yes, I agree. I am a man of word, Mr. Weber, and I had promised myself I would ruin every man that crosses me. Unfortunately, you happaned to be that man." Mr. Torres swigged the liquor in two gulps, then he reached for his wallet and took out several banknotes. "I don't like working behind one's back, that's the only reason I asked for this meeting. So I could warn you face to face. So...are we clear?"

"You aren't leaving already, are you? I was hoping I could catch up with my old acquaintance right here," Sebastian said, his eyes trained on me, lips pulled into a dangerous sneer. When his gaze fell to my deep neckline, Mr. Torres abruptly stood. It was obvious that he expected me to follow, so I stood up as well, feeling extremely uncomfortable under Sebastian's intense gaze.

Mr. Torres leaned over the table, his hands pressed on top of it, gaze flickering between the two men but mostly lingering on Sebastian. Unexpectedly, his lips twisted into an awful kind of sneer. The kind I've never seen before. Not threatening or angry, but malevolent. There was no other way to describe it.

He said, "I will strip away everything you've made, facility by facility, contract by contract, until you are left with nothing but a mere memory of a once great empire. Do you hear me?" Under the wild wisps of his hair, two gemstones shone with a building desire for destruction. Cold. Unforgiving. "I will have no mercy, and you will have no one to blame but yourself."

I stood, motionless, frozen with shock. Then, he took my hand and without so much as another glance, he led me towards the exit.

•

The cold licked at my face and seeped into my bones as we walked across the empty square in silence. There was no one in the vicinity, as if everything and everyone had fallen into a long, winter sleep. Even the trees were quiet, motionless without the wind to rattle their limbs.

I was freezing, but I was in too big of a shock to care. The meeting was everything but what I'd expected. I was living under the impression that we were going to Paris to sign new contracts, to bound our empire to new associates, but what we had come for turned out to be the exact opposite.

The moment we stepped outside of the restaurant Mr. Torres had let go of my hand, and had been quiet ever since. I didn't want to pressure him, but it was unfair of him to bring me into this mess and then get away without explaining a thing.

"Are you planning on telling me what was that all about?" I finally asked as we passed the triumphal arch and entered a narrow street that staryed away from the city center.

I could barely feel my feet, both from the cold and the pain that the heels had inflicted upon them, but I walked as fast as I could, struggling to keep with his long strides. "I am talking to you," I said loudly, over the pitter-patter of my shoes against the cobblestone.

"There is nothing to tell," he replied calmly, his back turned to me.

I snatched at his overcoat, breathless. "Really? Nothing to tell? And how about a fact that you are working with weapons, sir?"

He slowly turned to face me, a dark silhouette in the night. With so much light as a vague moonlight, his features appeared oddly sharp. Cheekbones most of all. He had cheekbones sharp enough to cut a girl's heart. For a second, their prominent shape distracted me, so I shook my head to clear my mind.

"I am very happy how this meeting turned out, Miss Griffin. Very happy. Everything happened just the way I planned."

"Happy?" I breathed out, trying to process his words but to no avail. "I thought...well, I thought —"

He leaned forward a fraction of an inch. "You thought what?" A chuckle. Deep. Huskey. Unfamiliar. "I do everything with purpose, Miss Griffin. And I never make mistakes."

I was completely dumbstruck. "But...but you said you were waiting for this moment your whole life, sir. Surely, you weren't planning to lose your best associate? I mean, how is this a good thing?"

Mr. Torres chucked my chin with his forefinger, until my eyes were at level with his own. "So many questions," he whispered. "Everything in its time, Miss Griffin. Everything in its time." With those words he spun and continued walking.

The car was waiting for us at the end of the street, sleek under the fuzzy light of a lampost, and before I could say anything else, Mr. Torres nodded at the chauffeur, who quickly threw his half-smoked cigarette and opened the door in response.

I stood at the edge of a sidewalk with mouth wide open for quite awhile, until Mr. Torres peeked through an open door and said, "As much as I'd like to satisfy your desire and let you walk all the way to the hotel, Mr. Pompidou here is a real gentleman and he insists you drive with us."

I stood some more.

"Well? Are you coming or what?"

When I finally realized I had no other option, I stepped forward and entered the car.