<
<
At the cafe, one woman is sitting on her own at a table (as opposed to the rest, which are mostly crowded by mobs of students or tourists). It's an "open-air" location, close to the main stall area, patronised by tourists buying arty stuff at inflated prices. The woman is tall, leggy, short curly grey hair with white streaks, wearing a trouser-suit and lounging in her chair. A tall glass of beer sits on the table in front of her.
Gabriel settles down in the chair across from her. "Meg Guerson?"
She nods, curtly. "Mr Knight?"
Gabriel extends his hand. "Gabriel Knight. You can call me Gabe."
She extends her hand in return. There are small bruises and old scars on it -- clearly she's no stranger to manual labour. Her handshake is firm, testing.
Meg Guerson says, "All right, Gabe. I think we both have some questions for each other."
<
Gabriel says "Certainly. Do you want to start?"
Gabriel whips out his notebook, his pen, and his tape recorder. He turns on the microrecorder with a flip of a switch.
Meg takes a swig of her beer. "All right. What did Jerome have to do with you?"
Gabriel says "I received a letter of an 'inheritance' and some money. It looked fishy to me, so I went, in search of a story. Apparently, I got one. I had never met Jerome before last night. We had never, in fact, spoken."
Meg nods again. Something thoughtful glitters in her eyes. "Interesting. Very well, your turn."
Gabriel says "Why don't you tell me why you think a sniper would murder your cousin? Any enemies? Acquaintences?"
Meg takes a long swallow of beer. "Enemies. My family has a lot of them." She smiles briskly. "Too many to be certain which it was, offhand. Have you any more data?"
Gabriel says "I know that Jerome worked at Christ's Church Hospital, he was a schoolteacher of sorts, he a French Revolution enthusiast and he researched into the Templars. I know that he left behind a briefcase in Victoria Station with a ring, a map, and some other materials -- those I do not have, but I made very rough sketches in my notepad. I haven't been able to locate any real leads on enemies, though. And this is what confuses me... why would someone use a sniper to assassinate a schoolteacher?"
Meg is silent for a moment, considering.
Meg says, "Would the concept of an organisation of vigilantes seem at all credible to you, Gabe? Or would you figure it was just some sort of bullshit?" Her tone is neutral.
Gabriel says "Do you mean like Central America? Guerillas in the trenches fighting a war of terrorism? Certainly."
She nods. "Fine. Jerome had links to one of those organisations, so do I, and if you even think of using the tape recorder you've probably got on you, I will personally find you and insert it so far up your rear end that you'd need a three-foot proctoscope to find it." She takes another swig of beer. "He was on the research end, mostly, or occasionally coordinating mission teams."
Gabriel's eyebrows go up, and he gets a little smile on his face. He takes a few notes. "Can you elaborate? Which government to you work for? Vietnam, Pakhistan, Iran...."
Meg smiles thinly. "The same people who once employed the Templars."
<
Gabriel says, "You work for the _French_?" He stifles a little laugh. "What, afraid you're going to be invaded by the Germans again?"
Meg shrugs. "The Templars were supposed to be autonomous. Check the history." She gets that smile again. "You're an investigator. I have a deal that may interest you."
Gabriel is twiddling his pen between his fingers, smile on his face, images of French secret service dancing in his head -- which he is _positive_ exists, he's just not real afraid of it. "Shoot."
Meg puts her glass down with a firm *click*. "Whoever took him out -- even if you can't _prove_ who he was, who I am, it'd make a good story, wouldn't it? Snipers for criminal organisations or oppressive governments murder freedom fighter in the heart of London. Especially if, oh, there was some sort of major damage due to the other vigilantes finding out what was going on and hitting back."
Gabriel says "Freedom Fighter is just another name for criminal organization, Ms. Guerson. You know it, and I know it. The label you put on your ideology depends entirely on if you believe in it or if you don't. But you both use guns, and you both kill. And you're right, it may make a fine story, depending on if there are any details forthcoming."
Meg leans back lazily. "You're the one with Jerome's notes. He was running some sort of private project -- and if he went to the trouble to find you, then you were important in it."
Gabriel says "Lady, I'm just a reporter. I report what I see. And what I see is a man dead."
She reaches into a pocket of her jacket, and slips out a business card, setting it on the table. It has a stylised axe-design, and a phone number. "But you want to know why, don't you? And you're not the sort to give up."
Gabriel reaches out and takes the business card. He looks at it closely.
It seems a normal card, good-quality cardboard, with the stylised axe and the phone number -- a number somewhere in London, apparently.
Meg says, "Some names I can trace. Some people I can find. Some facts about Jerome's life -- at particular times -- I can share. But I want to know who's behind this."
Gabriel slips this into his pocket, fully intending to give these people a little call. "Are you going to tell me about your little organization, or do I get to find out for myself?"
Meg says, "You honestly expect a sensible vigilante to tell everything about her organisation to a reporter in the middle of a public cafe? A _wired_ reporter at that? Give me credit for some intelligence."
A group of Japanese tourists wanders by. Cameras click as they photograph bits of London.
Gabriel grins a little bit more. He likes her.
Gabriel says "Of course not. Would you like to set up an appointment so we can be a little more cozy? Because, to tell you the truth...""
Gabriel leans forward.
Meg picks up her glass, and finishes her beer in a long swallow. "Yes?"
Gabriel says "... I'm gonna find out what is going on if you tell me or not.""
Gabriel then grins. Huge.
Meg actually smiles back, a genuine smile rather than a thin-lipped baring of teeth. "Good. You know, Gabe, I kind of hope you do. It'd be interesting, to say the least."
Meg pauses. "There is one thing I can tell you. There are people in London who are dangerous. Some of them have connections with the Hellfire Club. If you run into that, be careful. Be _very_ careful."
Gabriel leans back, and writes this down. "Any distiguishing markings?"
Meg snorts. "They sell sex. And power games. They have some influential people involved. Yes, I know, there are always going to be organisations like that. I just thought I'd give you a name to watch out for."
Gabriel says "Duly noted, Ms. Guerson."
Gabriel says "The press can be bought by alot of things, but power games ain't it. I just don't make enough money."
Meg puts down the empty glass. "What could you be bought for? I'm curious."
Gabriel thinks about it. He really, honestly thinks about it. "Money, probably. Fame, maybe."
Meg nods.
Meg levers herself upwards. "I should be going. Any more questions?"
Gabriel says "Can I call you?"
<
Meg nods. "Use the number on that card. It should get me, or someone who can reach me." She pauses, thoughtfully. "Find out what made your friends important to Jerome, mm? He must have wanted them for _something_."
<
Gabriel pauses... "I'll run into them sooner or later. I have their shoes."
Meg chokes on a near-laugh. "Excellent. Good hunting." She swings upright.
Meg raises her hand in a vague salute, then strides off into the crowd.
---