Ruse: Etoile: Chapter 1
Jan. 30th, 2015 11:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Despite my detours I get to the rendezvous early and sit on the back of a bench reviewing the small amount of info I was sent a few hours ago. It's a photo of an ugly—interesting looking blue and gold necklace; but I'm guessing I have to steal it not wear it.
After a few minutes the blue Ford Fusion pulls up and I slip into the back of the car. Mercy is driving and Henri hands me a thick manila envelope—the type that fastens with a button and string. He has a similar one on his lap. I squeeze in next to two flight bags and a clear zippered bag that used to house a comforter that has a couple of different shirts in it.
In the envelope is a passport in the name of Amelie Baudin, 2 traveler's checks amounting to a couple of thousand Francs, plane ticket to Paris, and just over four hundred Francs in bills and coins.
"Please tell me we not pretending to be married." I say, as I go through the clear plastic bag and pick out a shirt to wear.
Henri laughs, "Mais non, petite soeur. You and "Marie" here are going to visit your maiden aunt during spring break from school." He turns abruptly as I lift my shirt over my head and take off my bra to change into the baby doll college t-shirt among the clothes.
"Some spring break." I remark.
Mercy has the car on the road, heading towards the airport, "You and me, sis," she jokes, "Family ambassadors."
The baby doll leaves my mid-riff bare. I keep my boots and jeans on, "Sounds good," I tell her.
"This is for you to do," Henri continues.
"Steal de necklace?"
"Get back de necklace."
"Get ba-?"
"Let me finish."
I put my hands up in supplication then start going through the luggage that has Amelie's name on the destination tag.
"Our sources say de necklace was stolen already by a man called Darcineaux. You need to get it from him before he moves it to a broker or gets it to whoever hired him."
"Sounds fun."
"Dis is not a trip for fun, Remy," Henri says, staunchly, "It's an important test. Mer-."
"I'm there to advise and sponsor but not actively participate," Mercy explains.
"Okay."
I wonder which one of them went through my Go! Bags to decide to bring this one. This one has two changes of clothes, some practical but sexy under things, a toiletry bag and a book I had wanted to read six months ago but now don't give a damn about. Need to go through Go! Bags more often. The idea of Henri finding a bag primarily full of lingerie is far too amusing.
Henri coughs at me.
Not being serious enough. Right.
He passes me his phone. There's a picture of a cute brown haired man walking through a crowded plaza. The picture was probably taken from a balcony and was at the limit of the photographer's zoom.
"Darcineaux?" I ask.
"Darcineaux." He confirms.
He has an angular jaw. There appear to be some dark streaks in his hair which is short but partly spiked up, in a tousled way, older though, but eh. There's a younger woman with him, longer hair, both of their features are a bit hard to make out because of the graininess of the picture.
"Could be hot."
Both Henri and Mercy give me the eye—she through the rear-view mirror, him turning to look at me, craning his neck.
"What?" I ask.
Henri pinches the bridge of his nose, "Are you even listenin' t'me?"
"What?" I ask again, with inflection of innocence, "Necklace. Darcineaux. Serious business. I got it."
"You better."