CHAPTER 37
Tuesday 11:49 Along the Seine River, Moisson, France
Nathaniel had been at the safe house only once before. The location was picturesque, as if crafted from some scene painted by one of the masters centuries ago. The Seine flowed quietly along a wide, curving arc past the rear of the property, and the pillar-like white cliffs of Moisson protruded out of the trees on the far side of the river. The monolithic cliffs appeared to have been dropped out of the sky, punching into the ground like some giant guardians placed there to overlook and protect the small valley.
The centuries-old home was small and unassuming with its chalk-coloured exterior, slate shingles, and gravel drive. It was a simple place, humble and secluded. The property was lined with thick trees and shrubs on three sides, shielding it from prying eyes. Its medieval charm lightened his dreary mood, but only a bit, as he pulled to a stop near the front steps.
Nathaniel turned off the ignition and remained in his car in thought. Diane was on his mind. She was right to be upset with him for leaving her again. She had given him her entire life, following him wherever his career headed, and always remained the anchor of their relationship through the rough times. This trip was supposed to be about family, yet he hadn’t managed to make the flight out with Diane and the girls, and here he was on the second day stealing himself away. Yes, she had a right to be angry and upset.
He stared up at the old house and wondered how he’d drifted so far off the rails and never even noticed until now knowing what deed waited inside for him. A young man’s destiny, his friend’s son, rested in his hands. To be here now, having to play judge and executioner, was the last thing he expected when he first joined the Order. Each new project had taken a bite out of him, weakening him with each chomp, but this one beat out all the rest. This one was devouring him. His heart pounded in his chest as the anxiety swelled inside him. It felt like he had nothing left to give on this one. But what was he to do? The Order would spit him out like a wad of chewing tobacco, all disgusting and spent, if he had no more to offer.
It wasn’t this way in the beginning. In the early years, there was never anything so dark as every task seemed to be these days. It was simpler back then: influence, coerce, pressure, blackmail, and extort. Do anything it takes to make a baddie conform and do good by making their wrongs into rights. Apply the rules in all of the right places; and in the end, the baddies did conform. No one got hurt and the world became a better place.
And then came Bobby McFallen. Bobby turned off the gas, freezing his low-income tenants out of a small high rise in the middle of a bitter winter. The reason? He wanted them gone, out into the cold and out from under their leases, so he could sell the property to a developer who wanted to raze the building for luxury condos. The authorities, when challenged, were reluctant to step in, saying it was a legal matter. So the Order stepped in to force Bobby’s hand to capitulate, turn the gas back on, and give the tenants their rights to stay and renew any leases for years to come. The pressure was minimal, enough the Order believed at the time, and Bobby promised he would turn on the gas. A few days later, an unexplained natural gas explosion levelled a quarter of the building, killing four tenants and putting an immediate end to the Order’s interference. Bobby had turned on the gas alright, and the death of four citizens rested solely on the shoulders of the Order. Bobby sold the property, making a bundle, but died unexpectedly two days after the sale was completed. He was stabbed seventeen times in the staircase of one his other slum buildings by an unknown assailant. The official report was inconclusive, stating that his death was likely caused by some drifter or possibly that he stumbled upon a drug deal going down. No one was ever arrested. But it wasn’t a drifter or drug deal gone bad at the root of his untimely death. Bobby had become the first target ever purposely eliminated by the Order.
The weathered front door of the safe house opened and a tall, thin man with a boyish face dressed in loose, khaki-coloured clothing leaned out. He stared at the car, bobbed his head up and down a few times as if to get a better view of who was inside. The thin man’s sudden appearance forced Nathaniel to refocus on why he was at the safe house, and he surrendered a brief wave. The man waved back and remained at the door as Nathaniel exited and made his way up with his hand extended.
“Nate?” the slender man chirped in his high-pitched voice.
“Yeah,” he replied, glancing around the extremities of the property after quickly shaking the man’s hand.
“Name’s Randal. I don’t think we’ve met.”
Randal was not his real name. “No, Randal, I don’t think we have. He’s inside?”
Randal stepped back inside and pressed himself up against the open door, ushering Nathaniel by him. “He’s all yours.”
The front room was dim, tiny, and sparsely decorated with two small wooden chairs, a couch for two, a side table, and a lamp. The heavy drapes were pulled tightly shut on the two windows. In the far corner, against the discoloured stone walls, curled up on some blankets and pillows lay the young man he’d come to see.
“Taka?”
Nathaniel moved towards where Taka lay curled up facing the wall. Both hands were cuffed together and an ankle chain was securely bolted into the centre stone support wall. Taka looked much different than he remembered; bigger, more masculine, and mature. The last time he saw Taka was before his Taka’s younger sister, Reina, had passed away. The child had grown out of him.
The young man turned at hearing his name.
“Uncle Nate?” he asked with a confused, yet surprised look. A weak smile broke upon his stubbled face.
Nathaniel was no relation of Taka. The “uncle” was an obeisance Kaito had his children use when they were first introduced to Nathaniel nearly a decade ago.
Nathaniel knelt down next to him. “How are you doing, Taka?” he asked. He rubbed the young man’s head briefly.
“They just grabbed me. I don’t know why. They said I kidnapped some girl, Uncle Nate, but I didn’t. You know me, I wouldn’t kidnap anyone.”
He raised his hands to hush his friend’s son. “Shh. Just calm down. I’m here now.”
Taka reached his cuffed hands up towards Nathaniel, but Nathaniel only shook his head in response. “I can’t take those off.”
He lifted them higher. “I’ve been here for three fucking days chained to a fucking wall!” he shouted. “I want to get out of here.”
“I know you do.”
Randal opened the drapes on the far window and moved up next to Nathaniel. “Except for his mouth, the kid’s been pretty good.”
“Fuck you,” Taka responded tersely. “They beat me, Uncle Nate. Both of them. They beat the shit out of me. Nearly broke one of my fingers.” He tilted his head as if to show bumps or bruising beneath his hair.
Randal shrugged at Nathaniel. “You should have told me from the start that you knew him. We treat them all the same unless we are told otherwise.”
Taka’s mouth dropped open. He shot an irritated glare at Nathaniel. “You knew, Uncle Nate?”
Nathaniel forced a small smile. His heart raced. He had not planned what to do or what to say once he arrived. He was winging this one. “That’s why I’m here now.”
Taka pulled his feet under him and sat cross-legged, grimacing once from some unseen bruise. The chain rattled as it slid across the stone floor next to the blankets. He dropped his hands into his lap and a confused look settled on his face.
“Then take the chain off,” Taka said firmly. “At least the cuffs.”
Nathaniel forced a laugh to calm himself. “It’s not that simple.”
“What the fuck? Take ’em off!”
“I can’t do that, Taka. Not yet.”
“What do you mean?” His voice was raised. “These guys fucking kidnapped me. Aren’t you here to help me?”
That response was as good a segue as any for coming out to meet Taka face to face. “Kidnapped you? Tell me about the girl who was kidnapped.”
“I ha
d nothing to do with her! Nothing!” He locked his eyes on Nathaniel as if doing so proved he wasn’t lying.
“I was told you were there. Have I heard wrong?”
“Fuck, I never knew anything about a kidnapping until these fuckheads bagged me.”
Nice language, Nathaniel thought. He didn’t remember Taka ever talking so crudely.
“I woke up here, drugged I guess, and then these guys start beating on me so I’d confess to some bullshit I didn’t do. Where the fuck am I, anyways?”
“A long way away from home. A very long way.”
Taka’s contempt remained as he stared at Nathaniel.
“Any idea why you are here, Taka? Why do you think they grabbed you?”
“Duh…haven’t you been listening, Uncle?” Taka replied rudely. “The kidnapping?” He shook his cuffed hands up at Nathaniel, urging him again to release him.
“Well? Did you have a part in it?”
“Hell No!” he yelled. “You know me! I couldn’t do anything like that!”
But why would Kaito implicate his son this way? Nathaniel wondered. It made no sense.
“I’m going to be straight with you, Taka. No lying and no tricks.”
Taka stared at him with fire burning in his eyes.
“Your father told me you were involved. That’s why I’m here.”
Taka made no reply. His eyes danced around the room.
“Why would he say you were involved if you weren’t?” Nathaniel pressed him.
“I don’t know.”
“Your dad and I go way back, Taka. If he said you were involved, I believe him. So if you want me to remove those cuffs, you’d better start talking.”
Takahiro’s demeanour softened, his eyes began to water, and he looked away.
“Well? What’s it going to be?