The Argentinean walked with his head down and his eyes darting from side to side.
He positively looked about to spring.
“Remy? Carl?” Shawn queried suddenly, making a decision he hoped he
wouldn’t regret. “We’re going silent,” he continued before either man he’d spoken to could respond. Thiago stopped walking and looked at him warily. Shawn could see
the beginnings of alarm spreading over the man’s face as he turned his own earpiece off. He nodded for Thiago to do the same.
“What are you doing?” Thiago asked suspiciously.
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“I want to speak with you privately. Turn your unit off.”
Thiago stared at him, obviously weighing his options. Shawn could hear the
small voices asking what the hell was going on coming through Thiago’s earpiece,
and he prayed that Thiago would trust him. After what seemed like an eternity of
waiting, Thiago raised his hand slowly and clicked the earpiece off. Shawn released a relieved breath and gave his companion a wry smile.
“Well?” Thiago asked impatiently.
“You don’t trust us,” Shawn said bluntly. The only sign of surprise from
Thiago was a quick succession of blinks. “I don’t much blame you. I can’t say that I trust you entirely, either. And God knows we aren’t the most stable bunch of blokes I’ve ever had dealings with. But we have to start somewhere, Mr. Thiago. We’re on the same side of this.”
Shawn watched Thiago’s reaction closely for any sign that he was getting
through, but the man was a rock. His expression never changed, and he didn’t even shift his weight. Finally Thiago’s piercing blue eyes flicked to the horizon before settling back on Shawn with determination.
“How do you know Bergeron?” he asked challengingly.
It was Shawn’s turn to blink in surprise, and he had to force himself not to
lose eye contact with the other man. The slightest move could be misconstrued as
guilt, and that would ruin any chance of building trust with the suspicious agent. Was that what was causing the problems, the manner of his relationship with Remy?
Shawn had thought it was the bigger group issue.
“We’ve told you,” he responded evenly. “We tried to kill one another.
Several times, actually.”
“What else?” Thiago demanded.
“There’s nothing else.”
“Bullshit,” Thiago spat out angrily. “You talk about trust while you stand
there lying to me. What– ”
“I’m not lying to you,” Shawn interrupted calmly.
“Omitting the truth is the same as lying when my life depends on it,” Thiago
stated in a low voice. Shawn had to concede that point, but Thiago went on before Shawn could respond. “What is there about any of you to trust? I don’t know you.
I’ve never worked with any of you. For all I fucking know you’re all working
together and–”
“I understand being cautious,” Shawn interrupted in a soothing voice. “But I
think you’re being a bit–”
“Cautious? Ha! What the fuck do you know about caution? I haven’t seen an
ounce of caution from you! What the fuck kind of a shoddy covert are you anyway?
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You blindly trust anyone you’re thrust into close quarters with just because we’re supposedly on the same side?”
“Just a minute,” Shawn warned in a low voice. He didn’t mind the other man
being pissy, but he drew the line at being insulted needlessly.
“Well? Can you honestly tell me that you don’t lie awake at night wondering
if Everett is going to blow us all to Hell just to see if he can? Travers is a little too eager to get the show on the road, if you ask me, and Faust is a shifty little German bastard. Not to mention how fucking suspicious it is to find two Class One agents who not only know each other, but actually have some sort of… I don’t even know
what you call it, relationship? But I’ve never met another agent I would trust my life with so easily. There has to be something more to you two and I want to know what it is.”
“You’re right,” Shawn said quietly before Thiago could go on with his rant.
Thiago’s mouth snapped shut and he stared at Shawn, waiting for him to elaborate.
“You’re right,” Shawn repeated, more to himself than to Thiago. Shawn took a deep breath and wondered how much to tell the man. “I trust Remy for many reasons, some of which are professional, and some are personal.” He looked at Thiago carefully and saw the man returning the look intensely. “What say we save this conversation so
everyone can hear?” he asked.
“Okay,” Thiago said with a nod after a few moments of consideration.
“Right, then.”
“You can call me Thio,” Thiago said abruptly, “not Mr. Thiago or
whatever.” Shawn looked at him curiously and simply nodded. He knew what a
concession that must be for the other man.
“In all honesty, Thio, techs are almost always shifty, as are Germans.
Travers has got every right to be antsy. And I’m terrified of Everett,” Shawn
mumbled as he lifted his hand to his ear to switch his earpiece back on. Thiago
watched him suspiciously. “We’ll have to deal with him. Soon,” Shawn added.
Thiago nodded and frowned slightly. “Lads,” Shawn said as he switched his earpiece back on and began to walk again. “Double time it. I want everyone in before the sun sets.”
“What’s the problem?” Remy asked as soon as the last word had left
Shawn’s mouth. Shawn knew him well enough to be able to hear the concern
underneath the casual query. He smiled suddenly, overjoyed at the mere thought of working so closely with the man once again after months of going solo.
“No problem here,” he responded with a grin. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Ah, the promises you make, my little crouton,” Remy sighed into all their
ears, causing outright laughter from several of them. Shawn looked over at Thiago again to see the man smiling slightly. Feeling eyes on him, Thiago turned to look questioningly at Shawn, the smile fading.
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“You speak French, Thiago?” Shawn asked in amusement. Thiago shook his
head in answer. “Don’t worry. Neither does Remy,” Shawn snickered. Thiago
actually fully smiled at him then, and Shawn marveled at how much the wide grin
changed the man’s appearance. He looked almost relaxed.
“I heard that, couyon!” came Remy’s voice one last time.
“That was the point, dear.”
IV.
NIKOLAUS Faust hadn’t been too keen on getting involved in this mission when
he’d first been given his orders. But, he hadn’t really had much of a say in the matter.
When the higher ups said ‘jump,’ Nikolaus didn’t even stop to ask how high.
As a Class Ten operative, Nikolaus didn’t often put his actual life on the line.
Only in missions like this that required a mobile communications unit did he actually leave the sterile gray room full of expensive equipment that field operatives
affectionately referred to as ‘the Cellar.’ This was only Nikolaus’s second mobile mission with the Organization, but true mobile operations were few and far between, and there weren’t many Class Ten agents who had more field experience than
Nikolaus. He also knew just as well as his handlers that he was the best at what he did.
Still. He didn’t like the idea of Invisible Ops, as Brandt Everett called it. The mere thought made him nervous.
Nikolaus didn’t mind putting his l
ife in danger; that’s what they’d all signed
up for. What scared him to no end was that these other five men also appeared to be the best at what they did, and that meant the Archer was a serious threat. A very serious threat. What could the man possibly be up to that would warrant a crack team like this? Nikolaus was almost afraid to find out. He was even more afraid of their mission failing. God only knew what would happen if they weren’t able to stop him.
Despite these worries, or perhaps because of them, Nikolaus found himself
walking through the forests of North Dakota with five of the most peculiar, unstable men he’d ever encountered. And enjoying himself to no end. He could get used to the mobile life. As long as he didn’t get himself killed.
“So, Nikki,” Remy Bergeron said as they wove their way uphill through the
dense undergrowth of the forest. “Do you mind my calling you that?”
“It’s, uh, not a problem,” Nikolaus replied as he stumbled over a log and
reached out to steady himself. He was a little surprised to find Bergeron beside him and holding his elbow to keep him from falling. Nikolaus had never seen anyone
move so quickly over such treacherous ground. He was impressed.
“It’s just easier to say than Nikolaus,” Bergeron went on almost
apologetically, seemingly unaware that he’d ever moved. “That’s a lovely name,
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though. You’d be surprised how many Joe’s and Bob’s you come across in this
business.”
“My friends call me Niko sometimes,” Nikolaus offered as he looked
upward at the fading light and then down at Bergeron’s hand still on his arm.
“I even worked with a Joe Bob last year. In Hawaii. Niko, you say? I like
that too. D’you mind my using that?”
“Uhh, that’s… yeah, no,” Nikolaus responded uncertainly as Bergeron
released him and pulled ahead once more, seemingly oblivious to just how unusual
his thought processes were. Bergeron seemed genuinely pleased at the concession,
though, and Nikolaus wondered how effective a covert the Cajun actually was. He
appeared to wear his emotions on his sleeve, and he wasn’t half as solemn or reticent as the other field agents seemed to be. Nikolaus wondered how long the man had been doing this. He seemed so open and ingenuous, he couldn’t have been in the business for long, Nikolaus decided.
“I’ve been called so many names during missions I’ve lost track of them all,”
Bergeron continued in the same rambling tone. “Lots of ‘hey yous’ and ‘dammits’
mostly. Shawn’s always called me Remy, though, when he’s not calling me an idiot
or... anyway, you’re welcome to do the same if you like. Call me Remy, that is.”
Despite the cavalier way in which the invitation was extended, with
Bergeron losing his train of thought periodically and not even paying attention to what he was saying, Nikolaus found himself touched by the offer. In his world of cold technology and shady colleagues, what Remy said felt like an offer of camaraderie and trust. Nikolaus was more than happy to accept. He also accepted the opportunity Remy’s statement gave him to broach a subject he was extremely curious about.
“So what, um, what is the situation with the two of you?” he asked, hoping
he sounded nonchalant and glancing at Remy out of the corner of his eye. He heard the other two conversations come to a halt and was comforted by the fact that he
wasn’t the only one curious about the association between the two men.
“Hmm? Oh. Shawn, you mean? He tried to kill me,” Remy answered matter-
of-factly. “Several times. In the most unimaginative ways, I might add.”
“Yeah, you said,” Nikolaus murmured after hearing an irritated snort that he
assumed came from Shawn Bennett.
“I mean, using a gun to kill someone. How very unoriginal,” Remy said with
a little smirk and a wink at Nikolaus.
“Your problem is that you think you’re bullet proof,” Bennett’s voice said
caustically in response to Remy’s jab. “It was no mere gun, lad. That rifle was a work of art. A classic. A beautiful– ”
“Mm hmm,” Remy said in a bored voice. “Hey, Brandt. You work much
with plastique?”
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Nikolaus heard what sounded suspiciously like an affirmative purr coming
through his earpiece and he shivered involuntarily.
“I had his rifle rigged. One pull of the trigger and….”
“Bam,” Brandt’s voice finished in a frighteningly pleasure-laden tone.
“That’s right. Heureusement, fortunately, it did not come to that.”
“That’s when you received the message, then?” Nikolaus asked, trying to get
Remy to continue. Remy simply nodded and squinted into the distance. Nikolaus let the offer to continue hang in the air for a few moments, but Remy walked on,
oblivious to all but his immediate surroundings as they picked their way through the thick undergrowth. After a while, the other two conversations quietly resumed, and Nikolaus thought they could try to whittle more information from the two cagey men later.
“Do you remember the way being this rough on the way down?” Remy
finally asked in concern as he pulled up short and looked around. Nikolaus surveyed his surroundings in alarm as the steady droning in his ear ceased once more.
“You two have a problem?” asked Shawn Bennett’s gruff voice.
“Not yet, my little onion,” Remy responded in a voice close to irritation.
Nikolaus lifted an eyebrow to express his doubt in the other man’s
assessment of their situation, but he remained silent. Being in the middle of a dense forest with sketchy communications and unstable companions was bad enough, but
not having a clear idea of where you were going in said forest, that was really high on Nikolaus’s Oh Shit List. What was even higher, though, was pissing off one of those aforementioned unstable companions by questioning his judgment. So Nikolaus
stayed silent.
“Yet?” Bennett asked without much concern.
“God, I hate being lost,” Bergeron murmured.
“Lost? I thought you said we didn’t have a problem,” Nikolaus blurted
worriedly.
“Au contraire,” Remy said sagely. “Being lost is not always a problem. We
have at least a week before we starve.” He stopped and sniffed at the air. “Smells like snow, though. That may be a problem. I don’t do cold well.”
“Believe me, young Nikolaus,” Bennett said with amusement. “When Remy
gets well and truly lost, you will certainly know it. Watch your back though, he’d just as soon cook and eat you as he would some furry little woodland creature.”
“Mind your own business, Beignet,” Remy said in what appeared to be an
automatic response to Shawn’s teasing as he searched the trees for their location.
“Don’t go forewarning the prey.”
“Did he just call you Beignet?” Thiago’s voice inquired incredulously.
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“It’s a type of doughnut,” Shawn muttered in answer. “It’s a long story,” he
added. After a brief silence he blurted, “Remy really enjoys food, okay?”
Nikolaus tried not to snort in amusement as he watched Remy warily. He
wondered about the man’s competency once more and hoped his supposed super-spy
skills would kick in or something and turn the homing beacon back on. He chastised himself for not having paid more attention to where they were going and mused about how long it would take Everett and his exploding pinecones to c
lear the area of all the trees in order to find them.
“Ah! Got it!” Remy exclaimed suddenly, pointing at the trunk of a tree some
ten meters away. Nikolaus squinted in the half-light and could just barely see a pale, thin gash across the bark. He sighed in relief. “Just veered off course a bit is all,”
Remy continued as they walked toward the marker. Nikolaus hadn’t even noticed
Remy making the marks as they walked, and for the fourth time in ten minutes he
found himself re-evaluating his opinion of Remy’s abilities.
By the time Nikolaus and Remy made it back to the cabin the sun was
beyond setting, and Nikolaus cringed at the thought that Bennett might be angry with them for being late. He really needn’t have worried. It seemed that Shawn Bennett wasn’t so much the bastard that Nikolaus pictured him to be, and he genuinely liked the man whenever he was around him. It was just when they were separate that the
unwarranted image of the ill-tempered, nasty veteran spook haunted Nikolaus’s
imagination. Nikolaus knew that it was a stereotype; a preconceived notion of what their leader would be like. But he was having difficulty shaking it.
He thought it rather ironic that as he had these thoughts Thiago came out
onto the porch to light a cigarette. Now there was the cranky covert Nikolaus had imagined.
“You’re late,” Thiago said in a flat voice. Nikolaus opened his mouth to
apologize, but Remy smiled cheekily and shocked Nikolaus by wrapping his arm
around him and pulling him closer as if they’d been friends all of their lives.
“I was teaching Niko the proper technique for getting lost in the woods,”
Remy claimed seriously. “He took to the lesson real well.”
Nikolaus saw Thiago shake his head in the low light coming from within the
cabin. He wondered whether the man was smiling. He followed Remy past Thiago
and into the cabin to find the other three men sitting around the fire and talking quietly.
“Ah,” Carl Travers said as he lifted his head and glanced at them with a grin.
“The trailblazers are back.”
“We didn’t have smoke signals to work with like you did,” Remy responded