The Informant by S. M. Lynch

Author:S. M. Lynch [Lynch, S. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-12-08T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

Camille

Sat on the back of the powerful machine, I felt weakened. What I really wanted to do was get on the next plane out of Paris. Being home always forced me to remember who I was – the person beneath the killer was someone entirely different. There was only one other who understood that and she was steering the bike in front of me.

As Mara took the motorcycle through the streets, I was touched when the vehicle tumbled down some stairs and she checked behind to make sure I was alright. I moved my hands from the safety holds to wrap my arms around her instead. I squeezed tight and felt Mara’s gloved hand grasp my own, relishing the contact before she took her hand back and controlled the bike once more. I surrendered to that small window of happiness and felt ready for whatever lay ahead.

We parked on an alley behind the Moulin Rouge and took off our helmets.

‘Are you ready?’ she asked me.

My eyes narrowed and I asked, ‘Why do you doubt me?’

‘I know there’s something troubling you. I see it and yet you won’t betray it to me, will you?’

All these lies, Mara, some of which even you are not privy to.

‘Why should I?’

‘Because I am your friend.’

‘Yes, friend. Pah!’ I shrugged, almost reaching for a cigarette.

‘Let’s not get into this now. Let’s tackle these animals inside first.’

I was cold and waspish, knowing the woman alongside could read my physiognomy with such astuteness. Mara held her tongue but a mutual understanding passed between us.

We had both changed a great deal since our tutelage but Mara especially – after losing her father. There was pain and suffering on both sides, that was clear, but we had to quickly compose ourselves.

Mara took out two small, custom-made sabers from inside her jacket and readied herself, while my weapons remained hidden, bar my fists.

‘If things go wrong, take the detonator from my back pocket. The bike will take this place out. I’ve had the team clear the area.’

‘It won’t come to that,’ I enthused.

‘Ready?’

‘Oui. It’s a certainty.’

‘I hate it when you say that.’

‘Good. I hate it when you ask if I’m ready. I taught you remember, I’m always ready!’

She crooked a wicked brow. ‘Touchy, aren’t we!’

With that, Mara kicked the theater’s flimsy backdoor open and we headed inside. We entered a dark, oblique corridor and stood back to back, sliding down the tunnel together, twirling and twisting, ready should anything or anyone approach.

The only sounds were the leather of our jackets squeaking and each other’s controlled breathing. We headed down some steps into the old underground network of dressing rooms, storerooms and offices, jogging along another corridor, realizing there was a distance to go yet. That level was deserted save for the odd rat or two and some old pieces of apparel, lighting equipment and lingering sewerage. It was at our feet, and yet, we didn’t stop for it. We were set for the task ahead. Nothing else mattered but that.

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