The life of an evil mastermind is solitary. The hours are long, the nights are dark, and making friends is not something I prioritize. Everyone I meet is another possible victim. I’m a succubus. I tempt them with what they want most. I seduce, I make promises. I tantalize and deceive, con and cajole. And they come running, ready and eager to give me everything. It’s been years since I had a real challenge.
But Sherlock might just be more of a challenge than I thought, I muse, as I look down at the huge sword leaning against the empty seat next to me. Turns out traveling with a deadly weapon the size of a toddler is even more challenging than traveling with an actual toddler, as evident by the two police officers that boarded the train on the last stop and are now talking to the conductor in hushed tones, sneaking not so stealthy glances in my direction. Next time, Sherlock better hide his tracking device in something a little less cumbersome.
I sigh as I get up and start down the aisle, away from the law enforcement and what’s sure to be a minor international incident. I’m technically not allowed into France anymore, following a slight dispute over whether or not I was behind the widely publicized heist on Banque de France in Paris a few years ago. It was never proven I did it, but I have a one with a hell of a lot of zeros behind it on an off-short bank account that tells the real story. Behind me I hear someone yell “Arrête !”, and I promptly fail to do so.
As the train glides to a smooth stop at Gare du Nord, I get out and easily lose the blubbering idiots in the crowd of people at the railway station. The living, breathing thing that is the wonderful city of Paris welcomes me back. I’ve been missed. Paris, in all its beauty, is a restless and impudent lover, and I can feel her laugh and clap her hands in delight as I tell her about my grand plan. The heist of all heists. I’ve been planning this for a long time, and now, everything is finally coming together. It’s a first, and will go down in history as the boldest theft ever committed.
I can’t help but smile to myself as I think about my plan. But first, I have to make a stop. I’ve yet to have lunch, and I head toward Montparnasse. Located at the intersection of Boulevard Raspail and Boulevard du Montparnasse, I find my old hangout, Café Le Select. I grab my old corner table and order the Croque Monsieur from an arrogant waiter who clearly has someplace better to be, much like every other Parisian who is forced to do menial labor. I like him immediately.
I have a bite of the food, and it’s just as good as I remember it. I eat in silence, reading Hemingway. With a fountain pen, I make a note in the book, then underline a passage that I think suits the occasion. All too soon, it’s time for me to go. I pay for my food and get up. At the table, I leave the katana and the book. A message for Sherlock, who, if my calculations are correct, should have arrived in Paris by now and is probably on his way over to the café.
I start walking up Boulevard du Montparnasse. Up ahead, hiding behind a bend in the road, is the Eiffel Tower. For now. Tonight, there will be a blackout in Paris, and in the morning, tourists and Parisians alike are going to have the surprise of their lives. And Paris, my fickle mistress, will be one tourist attraction short of a sightseeing tour.
This post was written for Nicky and Mike's 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing III. To see the other posts for today, please visit We Work For Cheese. *
This is fucking wonderful! I love, love LOVE it!ReplyDelete
Good writing -- and this is getting very intriguing.ReplyDelete
Ohhh I can't wait to see what happens!!!!ReplyDelete
"Paris, in all its beauty, is a restless and impudent lover…" If you say so. I guess it takes one to know one. Great story. I'm on the edge of my seat. Can you hurry up and move the plot along I don't know how long I can sit like this.ReplyDelete
fantastic!!!! i hope that you are really heading there!ReplyDelete
holy fucking amazing! love, love, love, love! cannot wait to see what happens next!ReplyDelete
I agree, this is wonderful stuff. Hanging on every word as the saga continues.ReplyDelete
Hahaha! I love the ending. Actually, I love all of it. Evil Twin is taking notes.ReplyDelete
"an arrogant waiter who clearly has someplace better to be, much like every other Parisian who is forced to do menial labor. I like him immediately. " Ha ha ha!ReplyDelete
Intriguing and addictive. Glad you are back!
Actually, I wish this was a real book and I could read it. You are such a talent and a storyteller and amazing woman! You knock me out!ReplyDelete
Oh, no! I want to know what you wrote in the book! You are a wretched tease, Moriarity! If that's even your real name. ;)ReplyDelete
Marvelously well-written, my dear Moriarty! Such detail, such teasing hints, so daring and taunting. It is—how do you say?—c'est vraiment manifique. I cannot help but smile. You have eluded me for now, and set me a challenge, but you shall not escape me. Not for long...ReplyDelete
Beautifully written, Ziva. Romantic, grandiose yet restrained, and with an ominous ending. Very well done.ReplyDelete
This is so good. Too good. So much so that it's rendered me a blubber idiot. Super crazy well done :)ReplyDelete
I love, love LOVE you!ReplyDelete
Oh good, intriguing is way better than boring.ReplyDelete
Me either, Katherine! Go tell Mike to write the next part of the story, would you? He's taking bloody forever.ReplyDelete
You might want to sit back, sweetie, it's Mike's turn to write, and he's not in a hurry.ReplyDelete
In real life? No, sadly.. But I do have an exciting trip to the grocery store planned for tomorrow.ReplyDelete
Thanks, Meleah! I can't wait to see what happens either. ;)ReplyDelete
Thanks, Linda! Here's to hoping the saga continues soon.ReplyDelete
Evil Twin and Moriarty have a lot in common, don't they?ReplyDelete
Thanks, Malisa! It's fun to be back. Well, semi-back. ;)ReplyDelete
Thanks, Linda. :) Your comments are the best.ReplyDelete
I made Mike promise he'd publish the note in his next chapter of the saga. ;)ReplyDelete
Bring it on, Shelly, catch me if you can.ReplyDelete
Thank you ever so much, KZ, that's pretty much exactly what I was aiming for. :)ReplyDelete
Aw Mike, you're making me blush.ReplyDelete
Bah, I meant to write 'blubbering idiot'. Instead, I wrote 'blubber idiot', which I guess proves my point.ReplyDelete
And here I was being all nice and didn't even point it out.ReplyDelete