Here is a sneak peek of a scene from Mortals As They Walk:
I paused in the doorway of the dark smokiness of the pub in the Quartierre Latin. I had never been to this part of Paris, and I didn’t like it. The Metro took me all the way past the Grande Arche, to the Conflans Fin d’Oise stop. Five cross streets later, I had arrived at this dingy hell-hole. The room smelled of smoke, body odor, and urine. This was not a pub for tourists.
I knew this because my team had spent two months trying to locate the man I was about to meet.
It was filled with the noise of thirty people talking and watching a raucous rugby match on the television mounted in a corner. An occasional laugh, yell, or shout punched through the din on occasion.
My conscience pricked at me, and I pushed it away. I’d insist on no killings, but I was not naïve considering the people I was dealing with. Both the people I was after, and the one I was to meet here.
I ordered a whisky from the bar and went to sit at a booth in the corner, under a banner that said “Celtic—Get Jinky With It.” The table, like the pub, was old, worn, and stained.
A figure appeared out of the gloom like a phantom, shrouded in black. He took the seat across from me.
He rivaled the pub in disgustingness. I took a sip of my whisky. He stared into my eyes, I looked into his. Finally, he spoke.
“Vous-êtes l’homme d’Ecosse?”
“Oui.”
“English, then. I found the man. Works for major trafficker based in Paris. Name is Pierce. Robbery, kidnapping, carefully planned mayhem, and so on.”
“And you are sure he’s the one?”
He harrumphed. “Yes, of course. Long history of criminal activity. Placed in Istanbul same time as you. CCTV show him carrying bundle from the scene. In touch with police. Left Istanbul. No sign of man for many years, but we locate in Paris now.
I nodded. “And your people can track him in real-time? And keep him from getting the boy?”
“Not my team. I work for the team.”
“Yes, I understand that. Answer the question.”
“Oui.”
“And you understand I do not want anyone killed?”
He laughed. “Yes, it was said you say it. We do not kill any—what is word—any time, anywhere—”
“Indiscriminately.”
“—any way. Yes, ‘indiscriminately.’ We ensure safety. We cannot say same if we become in danger. Do you want successful job or do you want to keep your morals intact?”
“I want the job done, with an assurance that there will be no killing unless necessary to keep us safe.”
“It is also that you do not want us to obtain the boy for you?”
“Correct.”
He leaned over the side of the chair, held one nostril closed with a finger, and blew his nose on the floor. He smiled at me. His yellowed, crooked teeth peered out like a lighthouse in a nasty storm.
“Eh bien, eh bien—but my people are the best. Better than MI6, better than CIA. Much best to avoid the merde of regulations, ça va?”
“That’s why I am having you do everything except get him. I have a team for that. You are the security detail, bouncers, and diversionary elements. As discussed.”
He shook his head. “We are best. But well. I am instructed to make the agreement with you. You have the money?”
“Yes. Half will be deposited tonight, the rest after. And you assure me the team is trustworthy?” Not that I was sure his word was trustworthy.
He looked angry. “Of course! We demand no less than perfections for our clients.” He leaned back. “It is why we are so much money. As you know already.”
“Trustworthiness, competence, and success is what I require. For that, money is no object.” I leaned forward, hoping to appear intimidating. “I demand it. Less than that makes me angry.”
He laughed. “Putain, oui, mon ami!” He leaned in, as if he understood me and we were co-conspirators. We were not. He was a tool I needed. “You are new to this, oui? As I was told.” I tried to keep my expression unchanged and hoped the darkness kept him from seeing my flushed face.
“New here, yes.”
He nodded. “Ça va, ça va. So we have the agreement?”
“Yes.”
He took a tablet out of his pocket and tapped on it for a moment.
“It is done.”
“Good, You will hear from my people as soon as I return to London.”
“C’est bien. Stay safe, American. These men you are dealing with do not have your morals.”
Excerpts From
Mortals As They Walk
Markus McDowell
This material is protected by copyright.
In the near future, when biotechnology is stretching the limits of ethics and legality, a man, a woman, and a young child are caught up in a heavily funded project based on the work of a brilliant geneticist. But bio-research firms, Big Pharm, governments, and black marketeers see a way to become wealthy and powerful. Kidnappings, payoffs, political intrigue, and murder follow the test subjects, who must decide what to do with the data and the lives that have been destroyed—and find a way to save the child.
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