It wasn’t really a difficult decision when it came down to it: Noir needed a target with a high enough profile that Soldats would take notice of his or her death, but at the same time, they also needed someone who wouldn’t be allowed into the organization if the fate of the world depended on it. A leader of one of the Colombian drug cartels would be perfect.
Chloe couldn’t help but smile; finally, They were going to start doing what They should have been doing for a while, now. “So, who’s our target?”
“I have no idea.” Mireille said. “The criminal underworld is always changing, and I don’t really keep up with the things that go on in South America. I’m not certain who would be an ideal target. We need to do some research.”
“Alright, so we do a little snooping around, find out which cartel makes the most money, and take them out.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Chloe groaned. “How did I know you were going to say that?”
“Chloe, I’m the Hand of Noir. It’s my job to make sure that we don’t rush into things.”
“I know…”
“We have to consider all of the people who are going to be affected by this. If we take out the most powerful drug lord, that’s going to create a power vacuum, and given the nature of cocaine trafficking, that means there’s going to be a lot of violence. And while I don’t really have a problem with drug lords and their flunkies killing each other, we have to remember that innocent people could be caught in the crossfire.”
“Okay, okay. I get it.”
“When are we going to go to Colombia, Mireille?” Kirika asked in an effort to keep the situation from devolving into a shouting match.
“As soon as we figure out how to get our weapons over there. It shouldn’t be too much trouble—I know several arms smugglers who make trips across the Atlantic.”
“So, we could be there in a few days?” Chloe asked hopefully.
“Yes, Chloe. We need to do our research, yes, but in this case I think the best way to do that is to go there and observe the situation ourselves.”
What happened next came as a complete surprise to the blonde assassin. Her antagonist suddenly lunged towards her and threw her arms around her in a tight hug. “Thank you!”
“Um… you’re welcome, Chloe.” She wasn’t certain how to respond to this display of gratitude. Once again, she was struck by the seeming innocence of the young woman; one would never think that she was one of the most ruthless killers on the planet. She seemed genuinely thankful for the chance to kill a drug lord, and the dissonance was rather jarring. Mireille looked to the third member of the team, silently asking for something to break up the awkwardness.
Kirika did her best to comply. “What about our commitments here? We have two more jobs in Berlin, correct?” She was pretty sure Mireille was going to bring them up next, anyway, but if Chloe heard it from her first she might not be as resistant.
“We’ll finish them first, of course.” Mireille said, breaking away from the hug. “Our clients are paying us to provide them with a service, after all, and besides, our fees will help cover our travel expenses.”
Chloe sighed in resignation. “Always have to take care of business, don’t we?”
“Yes, we do.” Mireille said definitively.
Alan Dunning stared at the bespectacled woman sitting in front of him, trying to read her emotions with little success. “I must admit, Miss DuBois, that I am quite surprised to see you here.”
Jeanette nodded demurely. “I’m sure you are.”
“You were Althena’s assistant.” The Englishman had been one of Althena’s most important supporters within Soldats, mostly because he was one of the few who realized that she wasn’t reviving the ancient tradition for political gain. Of course, this might have been because he was one of the few members of Soldats who’d had experience with “real-world” politics, having served as a Conservative MP back during Margaret Thatcher’s regime. He hadn’t really had any direct influence during that time—his purpose had simply been to monitor the inner workings of the British Government for Soldats for those in the organization whose job it was to do the influencing. He’d seen firsthand how real politicians clawed their way to the top of whatever power structure was in place, and by the time he’d “retired” from public service in the early nineties, he’d grown thoroughly sick of political maneuvering of any kind. Of course, this was a problem, as Soldats was even more saturated with constant power struggles than any “legitimate” government; after all, they were the ones who really ruled the world. But Althena… she’d been different, somehow. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he always had a sense that her claims of restoring Soldat’s original mission was more than just rhetoric to be dismissed: it was the honest truth, and it only seemed like shallow politics because Soldats had forgotten what the honest truth sounded like. It had only taken a few personal meetings with the woman to confirm his suspicions, and he’d been quietly supporting her ever since.
Jeanette, for her part, had never met Dunning, though Althena had spoken of him often. “Yes, I was,” she answered him.
“Were you there when this so-called Noir went berserk?”
“I was there, which is why I can say to you that they were hardly berserk.”
“They killed nearly all of their allies.”
“Those women were no allies of the True Noir. They wished to manipulate a figurehead Noir to increase their own influence.”
“So, you are their ally, then?” the silver-haired man asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I wouldn’t be alive if I wasn’t.”
“But they killed Althena.”
“Yes, they did. Quite brutally, in fact. One cannot revive Noir without committing acts of evil beyond redemption, thus the death of that person is integral to the Grand Retour.”
“But… but why was the Corsican allowed to live?”
“Because she is Noir.”
“She is? But you told me that the Maidens were Chloe and Kirika.”
“They are.”
“Then how can the Corsican—”
“Mireille,” Jeanette corrected sternly.
“Sorry. How can Mireille be Noir if they are. Everyone knows Noir is two people. It’s right there on our insignia.” Pulled out the pocket watch that was standard issue for high-ranking members of Soldats to illustrate his point. There were the two familiar sword-bearing women that every member of the organization could recognize at a glance.
“The insignia is false.”
“What?!”
“The true symbol of Noir can be found in a secret passage in the bowels of the Manor. I know, because I saw it myself when I helped the three of Them escape.”
“Wait… you’re telling me that all three of them are Noir?”
“Yes. And I have the honor of being the only member of Soldats that Mireille trusts in any degree.”
“And why…”
“Because she is the Hand of Noir. The leader. The one who can truly use the Maidens to their full potential as a weapon of justice. That makes her the most powerful woman on the planet, as far as I’m concerned.”
Dunning sighed. “This is… I never expected this.”
“You think you’re surprised? You should have seen the way Mireille reacted.”
“But why hasn’t Breffort said anything? He was there, wasn’t he? Surely he would have learned the truth.”
“Learning the truth and believing it are two entirely different things, Mr. Dunning.”
Another sigh. “So, what would you have me do? Proclaim the Grand Retour from the rooftops?”
“No. I merely ask that you help me carry out the orders the Hand gave to me.”
“And those would be…”
“To get back into Soldats and serve as their eyes and ears, and to muster up what support for them I can find within the organization. You were one of Althena’s closest allies. She told me you were a true believer, even though you could not fully grasp the object of your belief.”
Dunning paused for several seconds before responding: “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”
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(Posted Tue, 18 Sep 2007 06:03)
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