A Hero's Journey -- Part 33-

To most people, Quatre would appear as an upper-class tourist. He thanked the waitress in the local language as she refreshed his coffee. Once she was gone, he casually resumed reading the business section of the paper.

However, his focus was not on the latest financial updates. The two men at a neighboring table were having an intense conversation. Despite their attempts to veil the subject, Quatre knew that the topic of discussion was weapons.

He couldn’t risk gaining attention by suddenly writing anything down. Turning the next page in the paper, the former pilot concentrated on remembering the names, places, and dates of the upcoming arm deals. The information would be valuable even if it wasn't tied to the new faction.

The ringing of a cell phone interrupted the relative quiet of the café. Realizing that it was his, Quatre quickly answered it. “I’m on vacation,” he growled, trying to maintain his cover, “so make it important.”

“On vacation?” a voice echoed, the computer modulation obvious. “I thought you would be taking this more seriously.”

‘How did they get this number?’ the Arabian wondered. However, he quickly pushed the thought aside. “Oh, I’m taking this seriously.”

“Not as seriously as you should,” the voice replied. “It was foolish of you and the others to leave the princess so lightly guarded. Too bad it was she who had pay for your mistakes.”

Quatre quickly rose from his chair and threw some money on the table. He didn’t speak until he was out of earshot from the café. “What have you done with her?”

“She’s relatively safe for the moment. How long really depends on the actions of you and your friends, Mr. Winner.”

“Who are you?” Quatre demanded. “What kind of game are you playing?”

“I’m playing my game,” the voice said with distinct amusement. “As to my identity, you’ll find out soon enough.”

Taking a deep breath, the young man relaxed his grip on the phone. “What do you want?”

“Patience, Mr. Winner. Demands will be made later. Try to enjoy the remainder of your vacation.”

The line then went dead. Resisting the urge to throw the phone against a building, Quatre instead began walking back to his car. As he walked, he dialed a number. He didn’t have to wait long for it to be picked up.

“Maxwell.”

“We have some problems,” Quatre said simply. “Major ones.”

“Shit. What’s happened?”

“I’d rather only have to say it once,” the Arabian replied. Already he was dreading facing Miliardo and Heero with the news. “Have everyone meet back. I will be there in twenty minutes.”

“Everyone should be there by then. Man, Quatre, why couldn’t it be good news?” With that said, Duo hung up.

As he started the car, Quatre wondered the same thing as well.


Part XXXIII To most people, Quatre would appear as an upper-class tourist. He thanked the waitress in the local language as she refreshed his coffee. Once she was gone, he casually resumed reading the business section of the paper. However, his focus was not on the latest financial updates. The two men at a neighboring table were having an intense conversation. Despite their attempts to veil the subject, Quatre knew that the topic of discussion was weapons. He couldn’t risk gaining attention by suddenly writing anything down. Turning the next page in the paper, the former pilot concentrated on remembering the names, places, and dates of the upcoming arm deals. The information would be valuable even if it wasn't tied to the new faction. The ringing of a cell phone interrupted the relative quiet of the café. Realizing that it was his, Quatre quickly answered it. “I’m on vacation,” he growled, trying to maintain his cover, “so make it important.” “On vacation?” a voice echoed, the computer modulation obvious. “I thought you would be taking this more seriously.” ‘How did they get this number?’ the Arabian wondered. However, he quickly pushed the thought aside. “Oh, I’m taking this seriously.” “Not as seriously as you should,” the voice replied. “It was foolish of you and the others to leave the princess so lightly guarded. Too bad it was she who had pay for your mistakes.” Quatre quickly rose from his chair and threw some money on the table. He didn’t speak until he was out of earshot from the café. “What have you done with her?” “She’s relatively safe for the moment. How long really depends on the actions of you and your friends, Mr. Winner.” “Who are you?” Quatre demanded. “What kind of game are you playing?” “I’m playing my game,” the voice said with distinct amusement. “As to my identity, you’ll find out soon enough.” Taking a deep breath, the young man relaxed his grip on the phone. “What do you want?” “Patience, Mr. Winner. Demands will be made later. Try to enjoy the remainder of your vacation.” The line then went dead. Resisting the urge to throw the phone against a building, Quatre instead began walking back to his car. As he walked, he dialed a number. He didn’t have to wait long for it to be picked up. “Maxwell.” “We have some problems,” Quatre said simply. “Major ones.” “Shit. What’s happened?” “I’d rather only have to say it once,” the Arabian replied. Already he was dreading facing Miliardo and Heero with the news. “Have everyone meet back. I will be there in twenty minutes.” “Everyone should be there by then. Man, Quatre, why couldn’t it be good news?” With that said, Duo hung up. As he started the car, Quatre wondered the same thing as well.


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