The Barons' Business
Luther hated his job.
He hated that it necessitated him sucking up to people, putting on a façade of interest or a faux liking for whatever topic interested them. Whenever people asked him what he did he told them he worked in public relations.
He chuckled internally whenever he’d say it. It was a public relations of sorts. He never really got into details about his job though, and he realized over time that they never really cared that he didn’t. They were much too eager to talk about their new business or their new car or their new vanity project.
Sure, it made his job a lot easier not having to go into detail about himself, but it hurt his ego a tiny bit that they didn’t pay enough mind to notice. His thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of his phone. It was a text from Mabel.
Target should arrive in a few minutes.
He looked around to spot her, his eyes traveling across the lounge, taking it all in. The sickening ornateness of the hall, the sheer gaudiness of the décor. He hated events like this. He hated sucking up to these people, but he knew he had to, at least to get what he wanted. His phone buzzed again.
She’s here. In the black dress. Brunette. Here on behalf of her father’s conglomerate. Play nice and don’t waste any time. Good luck.
He smiled. Mabel knew he had a thing for brunettes.
She was well put together, with her brown hair tied up in a tight bun. Her dress was silk, pure silk he assumed, and clung ever so sweetly to the curves of her frame. “I might actually enjoy this,” he thought as he walked up to her. She was staring at one of the unsightly “high art” pieces on sale.
He never got it, the abstractness and vagueness of high art. What happened to a good old landscape painting? She looked pensive, earnestly scrutinizing the painting. He stood beside her and pretended to do the same while sipping from his glass of champagne.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said with all the sincerity and awe he could muster.
“Mm, yes. It is.” she said without turning to look at him. He glanced at her. She had high set cheekbones and soft brown eyes. He was staring.
“I personally prefer Kandinsky’s earlier work, they’re more symbolic and far less abstract.” He kept staring at the painting in fake interest and could see her glance at him through his periphery. He guessed this was where his cachet of work experience came in handy.
He knew fuck all about Wassily Kandinsky, but he’d done this enough times and had listened to enough explication from the affluent and out-of-touch that he’d learnt a thing or two.
“That’s such an astute observation. I didn’t know a lot of people had an interest in his earlier work. I thought I was the only one.” she said as she faced him. He turned to get a look at her face and found himself lost in her features. The almond shaped eyes, the full lips brimming with red lipstick, her striking beauty. Is this love?
“You’re not the only one,” he said with a smirk on his face. She smiled back and held his eyes for a second then looked back at the painting. They continued to talk about other eras of abstract and impressionist art, then about their favorite cuisine, the Kardashians and everything in between.
“Frankly, I can’t stand these events, these people. I mean I’m around them a lot so I know. They’re always out to get something from you, they’re never genuine.” She looked into the distance as she spoke, her mind lost in thought.
He thought she looked elegant, the way she draped herself across the sofa in the lounge. “I’ve never really shared this much with anyone in a while. You’re a refreshing change from what I’m used to. You don’t come off as someone who wants something from me. I like that.” she smiled at him.
"Oh, you don’t know the half of it," he thought. He smiled back.
The crowd began to thin out and most of the lounge was deserted. She had acquired the painting and had it moved to her room but decided to stay with him and chat. She liked him, he could tell. The way she laughed at his jokes, the subtle touches, the way she held his gaze. He was in.
“They’re going to kick us out if we stay any longer,” she said, giggling.
“Would you like to come over to my room for a night cap? Room service provided this delicious bottle of Cabernet and I can’t possibly enjoy it by myself.”
“I’d love to,” he said. He checked his phone as they left the lounge. Mabel had sent a bunch of texts, something about keeping to time and focusing on the mission. He couldn’t care less. He was with the girl of his dreams.
They got to her room and spent some time talking over the red wine. She had loosened her bun and looked even more alluring with her lush hair cascading down in waves. He couldn’t help but think how beautiful their children would be. A mix of his rustic yet charming looks and her soft and elegant features.
The buzz of his phone snapped him out of it. Another text from Mabel.
You have to move now Luther. The Baron’s guards have found the body. They’re on to you.
He looked up and saw the curious look on her face. He tried not to look disturbed. Why did it have to be her? Why did she have to be his daughter? What was the point of anything?
He asked her for the bathroom and she gave descriptions. “I’ll go get another bottle of wine” she said as she walked towards the kitchen. He moved down the hall till he knew he was out of sight and swiftly darted into the bedroom.
He began to search for the thumb drive. That was his primary mission. He was still searching when she entered the doorway.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
He turned around and wryly said “Looking for the bathroom…..” He had barely enough time to duck the shot from the revolver she held in her hands. He rushed her and tackled her to the ground, disarming her.
“Where’s the thumb drive? '' he asked as he restrained her, pinning her hands to the ground with one hand and putting his pistol to her head with the other. Realization settled across her face. “Who are you? Who sent you?” she asked.
“I’m not going to ask again. Where is the thumb drive?” he pressed the gun against her temple. He wasn’t going to shoot her, obviously. He was in love with her. She pointed to the bedside drawer. He got off her and, with his gun on her, gestured her into the toilet. He locked the toilet door and searched the drawer till he found the drive. His phone began to ring. Mabel.
“I advise you get out of there right now. A bunch of the Baron’s henchmen just got in the elevator and I think I know where they’re headed.”
“Thanks for the heads up” he said sarcastically, “They’re literally already in the building so that’s so helpful”.
“Where would you be without me?” she responded dryly. “There’s an air vent in the room, that’s your only way out. I’ll talk you through it.”
“Okay, but first….” He raced to the toilet door. “Nadia, I think you’re special and I really like you. This is nothing personal, your dad’s just a drug peddling oligarch and mass murderer. I’m personally uninterested in politics of this sort but I’m contractually obligated to, you see. I don’t know if we could maybe have dinner sometime, when this blows over?”
“Fuck you!”
“I’ll take that as a no. I had a wonderful time.”
He left through the air vent and heard the henchmen’s yells fade into the distance as he crawled farther away from the room. Mabel guided him through the air ducts and led him conveniently into the hotel’s kitchen on the last floor. He ignored the perplexed chefs and kitchen staff and headed for the exit.
He had the thumb drive and that was all that mattered. All the Baron’s business associates, his drug trade networks, his entire portfolio. Pretty naïve of him to hand it over to his daughter in the hopes that she would dispatch it unnoticed. They noticed.
The agency had already booked him a flight out of Paris set to depart in about 2 hours’. He’d shower, change clothes, and maybe do a bit of sight-seeing. Maybe the Eiffel Tower. He’d have loved to see the Eiffel Tower with Nadia. Tsk.
“Guess that’s why they call it the city of love,” he thought as he ambled back to his hotel.