Morgan Watts tried to ignore the nagging pain on his left side but the condition was so persistent that he finally put a hand on the affected area and grunted in annoyance. Over the past few months, he’d had the misfortune to suffer one injury after another. As a result, his body now carried with it more aches and pains than most normal men could have withstood.
That was part of the reason why he’d volunteered for this mission. He wanted to get out of Sovereign in the hopes of breaking his run of bad luck. When Lazarus had announced that he wanted one of the team to travel to Paris and have a little "talk" with a member of the Illuminati that lived there, he quickly snatched up the opportunity.
Morgan sat in a small café, bundled up against the wintry chill. A cup of coffee sat on the table before him but it had remained untouched since the waiter had brought it to him. Morgan’s attention was fixed on the hotel across the street and he sat up straight when his target finally emerged.
Joseph "Jack" Conrad was an American by birth but he’d moved to Europe at the age of six and had spent the last twenty years of his life here in Paris. He served on the Board of Directors for one of the most prominent museums in France and was regarded as one of the most eligible bachelors on the continent. Thin but well-defined, Conrad had white-blond hair that came to a widow’s peak, dark eyes and a somewhat distant persona. He always dressed to the nines and was rarely seen with out a cigarette balanced between the fingers of his right hand. Indeed, as Morgan watched, Conrad stopped on the hotel steps, pausing long enough to shake a cigarette out from a case and then light it. He took several long drags on it, exhaled slowly, and then began heading down the street at a leisurely pace. Morgan exited the café, dropping a few coins on the table as a tip.
Morgan followed, staying far enough behind that Conrad wouldn’t notice that he was being tailed. From what Morgan had been told, Conrad had joined The Illuminati in his late teens, having been invited to join mainly because of his family’s money. Whereas many members of the organization possessed some measure of skill in the areas of the occult, Conrad was an exception. The son of a wealthy banker, Conrad helped provide needed capital and connections but was otherwise kept out of the loop when it came to the full extent of their supernatural affairs.
But he still knew enough to be useful.
Morgan recognized the area they were entering, having meticulously studied maps of the city. He ducked down an alleyway, confident that he knew where he could cut off Conrad’s progress. Indeed, he found himself waiting at a point, just ahead of the other man within moments and as Conrad passed, he reached out and grabbed him, yanking him off the street. He kept one hand over Conrad’s mouth while the other held the barrel of a gun against the man’s forehead.
"Don’t move. Understand?"
Conrad’s eyes were wide and frightened. He nodded quickly, wetting his lips when Morgan released his hold on him. "I have money," he said, starting to reach into his coat pocket.
"Keep your hands where I can see them." Morgan cocked the gun and Conrad quickly raised his hands, showing the palms to Morgan. "I don’t want your money. I want information."
"What do you mean?" Conrad seemed both relieved and guarded. "If you’re looking to pull some sort of art heist, you’ll find that there’s only so much I can help you with. The museum’s inner workings aren’t known to me."
"Do I look like an art thief?" Morgan reached into his coat and pulled out a photograph of Walther Lunt. The German had one side of his face ruined by an acid attack years before and the assault had left him with a glint of madness in his eye. The photo showed that quite clearly. "You know this man?"
Conrad hesitated, wetting his lips once more. "Yes."
"I understand you’re both part of the same group. Am I right?"
"We’re in a gentleman’s club together, yes."
"Nice name for it. Your father is in banking and I bet that Lunt and some of the others use you to help keep their money hidden. Am I on the right track?"
Conrad said nothing for a moment and when he did speak, his voice had dropped an octave. "You’re playing a dangerous game, my friend. You don’t want to mess with these people. They’ll hurt you in ways that you can’t even imagine."
Morgan narrowed his eyes, his grip on the pistol never wavering. He was pretty sure that one reason why Lazarus agreed to let him go on this mission was because of his past. Morgan had once run with the toughest thugs in Sovereign. He’d done lots of bad things and on a few occasions, he’d had to kill to save his own skin. Unlike Samantha or Eun — and maybe even Lazarus — Morgan was quite capable of pulling the trigger if need be. "I’ll take that risk. Now answer the question: do Lunt and the others use your father’s bank?"
"I’m pretty sure that you already know that they do. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?"
"Smart boy." Morgan reached out and grabbed Conrad by the arm, yanking him close. He shoved the gun hard into the younger man’s ribs, keeping it out of sight as he walked Conrad back out onto the city streets.
"Where are we going?"
"To the bank. It’s after hours but you can get us in, can’t you?"
Conrad’s jaw worked in helpless frustration. "And then what?’
"You’re going to give me addresses, phone numbers and anything else I can think of for those people Lunt works with."
"And when you’re done, do you think I’m not going to warn them?" Conrad’s eyes widened as the words left his mouth and he visibly realized that he should have kept his lips shut. "Oh good lord, you’re going to kill me, aren’t you?"
Morgan just smiled coldly, letting Conrad fill in the details. He actually had no desire to commit murder, even though he was capable of it. He’d brought along a small drug cocktail that Lazarus had perfected. It would wipe Conrad’s memory of the last 24 hours and leave him a very confused man. "I won’t shoot you unless you make me. That’s a promise."
Conrad stared into Morgan’s eyes, not sure if he believed the older man’s words. In the end, he knew that he had no choice: even a faint hope of survival was better than none. "I’ll get you the information you need… but I think you’re making an awful mistake. Lunt alone is a lunatic. If you go after the other members of the cabal, too, you’re a guaranteed dead man."
"I’ll roll the dice on that one. Now let’s go." Morgan gestured for Conrad to lead the way and the two of went off in pursuit of the information that would, hopefully, lead to a critical strike against The Illuminati.
"… city continues to mourn the loss of 57 innocent lives in last night’s terrible fire at Doc Daye’s Home for Forgotten Children. Sovereign Fire Chief Gabriel Sanders says that the tragedy is like nothing he’s ever seen before…."
Lazarus Gray turned off the radio, well aware of the somber mood in the room. With him in the meeting area of Assistance Unlimited’s headquarters were Samantha Grace and Eun Jiwon. Both of them stood in silent contemplation, eyes downcast.
"It’s so awful," Samantha said at last, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. The daughter of socialite parents, Samantha had never been one of the city’s ‘forgotten children,’ but her kind heart allowed her to easily empathize with those who had perished. It was horrible enough to be alone in the world, with no family to speak of… but to have that life cut so cruelly short was almost too much to bear.