Chapter 81: Codename: Aconite Chapter Thirty-One
I look up at the beautiful sand-coloured 5-story apartment building, the exterior lined with picturesque wrought iron balconies on stone terraces, decorated with lush plants and just big enough to allow for a single person to step out and admire the view. I wish my apartment building looked as beautiful as this.
“It’s beautiful,” Silas remarks with a warm smile.
I nod in agreement. “I wish my apartment building was this lovely.”
“I could never live in an apartment; I don’t know how you do it.”
“You live in a house?” I ask quizzically.
“Family estate in Moldova.”
I smirk, “That your way of saying you still live at home?”
“Got a problem with that?” he says, raising his eyebrow, daring me to say something.
I raise my hands in surrender as I let out a chuckle, “No problems here. If it weren’t so smothering at my parents’ house I’d probably still live there too.”
“What’s so smothering about your parents’ place?” he curiously asks as we walk up the front stoop of the building.
“All the security and the never-ending parade of mafia men walking in and out of it. I prefer to work in solitude and without interruption.”
“Wait, did you say mafia?” he asks looking flabbergasted.
I smile in amusement. “Another fun detail that was left out of your files on me. My father is the right hand of the head of the Drakos Mafia Family,” I say proudly.
He slowly looks me over appraisingly. “This explains a lot about you.”
I chuckle and reach past him pressing the buzzer for Camille’s apartment. “Trust me, this doesn’t even explain half of me.”
“Bonjour?” announces a voice through the intercom.
Silas steps aside so I can step closer to the intercom. “Bonjour Mademoiselle Lefebre, je m'appelle Alina, I was hoping for a moment of your time, it’s regarding a very serious matter.”
“What kind of serious matter?”
“Your life is in danger, but my friend and I would like to help you,” I say confidently.
The silence carries for a moment until we hear the buzzing of the door. With a smile, I open the door for Silas and usher him inside.
“Alina?” he asks as we walk into the building.
I shrug, “I always liked that name,” I say nonchalantly as we make our way to the elevator.
We step into the elevator and go up to the fourth floor, find the correct apartment, and then proceed to knock on the door. We hear the chain being unlatched from the other side as the door opens to reveal a very beautiful young woman. She’s roughly the same age and the same height as me, with a similar figure, though perhaps not as busty. She has fair skin, with a dusting of freckles across her face, and her bright hazel eyes are almost hidden behind her bangs from her bob-cut peroxide blonde hair. I can tell her lips have had some work done to plump them up, perhaps in an attempt to balance out her rather large nose, but I don’t think it was successful. She’s wearing loose grey slacks with an oversized grey blazer with gold buttons and by the looks of it at least three pairs of shoulder pads over a white satin blouse paired with black leather square loafers.
“What makes you think my life is in danger?” she asks, cutting to the chase as she eyes us suspiciously.
“May we come in and explain?” Silas asks.
She looks us over suspiciously, but steps aside opening the door wide. Silas and I step into a very beautiful – yet minimally – decorated apartment. As we hear the click of the door shutting, we turn to see Camille pointing a gun at us. For the record, I totally saw this coming.
“You’re going to tell me who you are and why you think someone wants me dead,” she says with a level voice.
Silas slides his hands into the pocket of his long black coat and leans against the arm of her sofa. “What you’re holding there is a Manurhin MR 73. By the looks of it, yours is a double-action revolver with a 4” barrel length and a .357 Magnum calibre. Interesting fact about that gun, is that it’s known for being the standard issue sidearm of French police tactical units. So, since you’re pointing it at us, I’m going to assume you weren’t always a PI,” he says calmly.
Could this man be any sexier right now? That was so hot!
Camille glances at her gun and then back at Silas, still eying us both with trepidation. “I used to be GIGN.”
I look at her with impressed surprise. The GIGN is the Groupe d'intervention de la Gendarmerie nationale, which translates to National Gendarmerie Intervention Group: an elite police tactical unit that work counterterrorism, hostage rescue, and surveillance for national threats and even the protection of government officials.
“How does someone go from being in the GIGN to working in the private sector?” I ask in bewilderment.
“I hated the system. After a few years, I didn’t feel like I was doing any real good. Felt like I was just a cog in a broken system, so I got out. Now I put my skills towards helping the people who don’t get help from the police or their government,” she says indignantly while walking across the room and standing behind her desk, placing her gun on the desk. “Now, I’ve answered your question. It’s your turn.”
“Recently someone tried to kill us both. We’ve been hunting for that person and found a lead, but as it turns out that lead has been hired to kill you. Can you think of a reason why?” I ask with intrigue as I walk over to her.
She snorts in amusement. “I tend to piss off a lot of people. You’d have better luck asking who wouldn’t want to kill me. It’s a much shorter list.”
“The attempt on your life is going to go down tonight. Is there anywhere you’re scheduled to be tonight?” Silas asks.
Camille stands up a little straight. “I had a man hire me this morning, claims his home was broken into and a prized item stolen. He asked me to come over tonight to examine the scene and find the person and his missing item.”
I look over at Silas, “Simple but effective plan. Pose as a client and get her to a location of his choosing so he can complete the job. Risky, but it works.”
“I don’t usually go to a location a client chooses, but he sounded panicked and was insistent. Even offered to pay me anything; claimed the price didn’t matter, that he was just desperate for help. I stupidly agreed,” she says, looking disappointed in herself.
“He said the magic words. People who don’t put an emphasis on money are usually more sincere in their wants,” I say in her defence. “You were doing your job and doing it well. The problem is, so is he.”
“So, what do you propose I do? If I don’t go, this man will just find another way to kill me, and I refuse to go into hiding. I’d rather just show up and put a bullet in him before he even has the chance to try to kill me,” she says with determination.
“I like your methods,” Silas nods in approval.
“The problem is, we need him alive and far from police custody. If we have any hopes of finding out who wants us dead, we need your assassin alive,” I explain.
“Are you saying you want to use me as bait?” she asks appalled. “I don’t even know you, let alone if you’re telling the truth.”
“We’re not asking you to become bait. This is our fight, not yours. But that does give me an idea,” says Silas.
I look over at him curiously. “What idea is that?”
A conspiratorial smile graces his handsome face. “How do you feel about wigs?”