Page 17 of Double Shot
One of the things that we said in the military was that as long as the men were complaining, everything was fine. It was when they stopped bitching that there was a real problem. I let her vent and gave some of mine as well. The first-class seats we had on the Air France Airbus A380 were almost as spacious as the suite we had shared on the train crossing the country.
Once we were in the air, and Sadie had her first Moscow Mule, a lot of the tension went out of her. We were flying with a sense of purpose that was greater than just surviving. There were more mules for Sadie, and she alternated between playing on her phone or the laptop I hadn’t known she had until it came out at security. I didn’t care that she had it. I worried vaguely about why she had kept it from me, though. The rest of the time she spent watching the in-flight movie options and sitting and staring out the window. It wasn’t scenery, there were only scattered clouds and the seemingly endless Atlantic Ocean.
I could sometimes make out something of her reflection. There were quiet tears in her eyes, and I think she was keeping them to herself. He would know how to reach out to her, to sooth her hurts and calm her heart.I used to… but it didn’t feel like I knew how anymore.
I sighed to myself and went back to my work. I had conversational French playing in my earbud. I wanted it to be fresh and sharp for working in France. Then there was the matter of finding guys on the ground in France that I could get to Languedoc, and that I could trust. That second thing? That was the sticking point.
The list kept getting shorter and shorter, and I was starting to run out of options.
Shit.
We landed without incident, after a nearly eleven-hour flight, at Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport. It was dark, and travel weariness was already hanging over both of us. The layover was short, only a few hours, before we had our final connecting flight, taking us south to Montpellier. I had arranged to pick up a car there, so we were ready on that end. There was a house lined up too. It should be a safe place to rest and rally.
When this was all said and done, and we had Roan back, we would have to come back to Paris. Sadie would like to seesomeof the city, the bright parts. Most of my experience had been on the not-Eiffel tower side, where instead of bistros and bakeries on every corner, it was packs of feral dogs, homeless people, and vestiges of nationalist groups getting hostile with migrant fringe communities.
“Um, hello, hi.” We were approached by a younger looking man – dyed black hair, lip piercing, tattoos up both arms, and some goofy-looking pair of smart glasses. Those would likely have camera and microphone options, and Wi-Fi connection.
Roan had wanted me to try them and I told him that there was no goddamn way.
“Sorry, no,” I said.
“Kyle, Kyle Lachlan, I know who you are.” He spoke quickly, nervously. “Sadie Brooks, I know you too. I need to talk to you both and its super important.”
“I don’t know,” I said, keeping my tone even and calm, “who you think we are.”
“Oh my God, you don’t know me, but I know you. I know Roan. I know why you’re here.” His words came as fast as the disclaimer at the end of a car commercial.
“Who are you?” Sadie asked.
“My name is Grant, but Roan knows me as DJ Raditz.” He gave a very large, very nervous smile.
“How about you calm down and stop acting like a terrified tourist? Let’s go have a seat at the café and you say what you need to say without making the guards nervous.” He nodded in agreement. We ducked into one of the airport cafes and ordered a polite imitation of breakfast.
“First of all, I’d like to thank you for not shooting me or kicking my ass,” he said. I gave him a nod of agreement. “Your reputation is fierce dude, it’s fierce.”
“So how does Roan know you?” I asked pointedly.
“Yes, thatissuper important. So here it is – we met doing guild raids, we were both in a guild of guys who were all in tech and you know. He was a great controller and knew how to exploit DPS, but didn’t have the right macros set, so we start trading macro settings and build—”
“English please,” Sadie said, looking a little annoyed.
“I’m sorry, we both played the same MMO, and we started trading game stuff, and then real-world tech stuff. I helped RedRoan set up CryptoMail, and the CryptoCoin index, you know, the place where almost all of your money actually is.” He picked up a cup of coffee.
“Okay, that works,” I said. “You sure you need any more caffeine?”
“I always need more caffeine,” he said, and there was no doubting the New York in his accent. “But you guys are about to drive into a massive ambush, and get all killed and stuff, and if RedRoan is alive, I can’t like, let you Leroy Jenkins it.”
“How do you know any of this?” Sadie asked.
“You’ve been using RedRoan’s laptop,” he said, pointing at it. “As soon as you got off of the CryptoMail server, wherever you were, and tapped into an open ISP, I was able to find you.”
“Why were you looking for us?” she asked.
“I wasn’t looking for you, I was looking for him. We had ongoing business, some game stuff, and stuff like that, you know. I could tell you specifics but if you blanked on basic MMO stuff, this would just zoom right over your heads.” He took a breath. “So, I knew where you were going, which is how I was able to get a flight here, to meet you. Before—”
“Alright, I believe you,” I said. “So, you know he’s here, and what are you wanting to do?”
“Help you rescue my guild master,” he said. “And you know, get to meet you. He’s talked about you.”
