L'affaire Bob

38. ...Sike! You thought ;)

I remember, when I was a kid, my worst nightmare was going to the dentist with my mother. She'd wake me up on a Saturday, ask me to get dressed, and then take me to a public garden or any other enchanted and kids-friendly place, only to end the trip with a lovely visit to the dentist, who, at the time, was an old friend of hers.

He'd torture me for hours, asking me to open my mouth, trying to clean off cavities on my molar teeth at the very rear of my jaw.

I remember distinctly the words he and my mum had exchanged the first time we went.

-"And now what?" My mother had asked after he'd finished stuffing my mouth with awful and disgusting dental substances.

-"Now," he had so terrifyingly smiled, "We wait."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was why hearing Mike ask those same words-- pushing me on a trip down memory lane in the process-- didn't specifically make me feel better.

-"So, what time is it now?" Mike inquired.

-"11:32. Why?"

-"Nothing. Just checkin'," he shrugged.

-"Logically speaking, Bob, as well as the culprit, should be coming in the following hour."

-"Because everyone would be at work?" 

-"Indeed." 

-"If everyone was at work, how come Bob was wandering in this street? And how did they know he was going to be here?"

-"Bob was supposed to be on a secret mission in the north of France, okay? I did not know he was still in Paris, doing God-knows-what!" I exploded.

-"Do you think whoever killed him was spying on him this whole time?"

-"I have an idea," I interrupted him. "Let's not think about anything right now. Let's just wait and observe. Sounds good?"

-"Yeah, yeah, totally," he muttered, taken aback by my sudden mood change.

Silence fell upon our little duo. We waited, our eyes glued to the street in front of us. Every movement, every sound, was perceptible from our hiding spot, and so when Bob would come, it wouldn't be too hard to notice him.

After a good twenty minutes of waiting, we finally heard the roar of an engine coming our way.

-"The bad guys?" Mike silently mouthed.

-"I figure," I replied in a whisper.

The roaring intensified, and soon enough, a brownish truck appeared at the end of the street, coming to a halt a few blocks away.

The driver's door opened, and a man jumped outside the vehicle, his boots slamming the asphalt. Two other men got out from the opposite side.

Three men, three different heights, different shapes, and ages.

But all had one thing in common: their outfits.

They were wearing black from head to toe and had black masks on their faces.

-"Holy...," I started, my mouth hanging open.

-"What is it?" questioned Mike. "Who are these guys?"

-"Jonathan's bodyguards...," I trailed off. "I knew it! I knew there was something wrong with them!"

-"I'm not sure I'm following," Mike cut off my monologue, "but who's Jonathan exactly?"

-"Someone from my work agency. He's a very influential and powerful man. Our association's lucky to have him on the inside and not as an enemy because he'd do anything to reach his goals."