Thorns of Deception

By this time the spy had grown bored of the company that surrounded him. Claude took out his cell phone and pretended to receive an important call. “If you’ll excuse me I really must be taking this. It was truly a pleasure to Miss Duress.” He bowed again and left the trio to their drinks.

The evening hours rolled on and the gentlemen found himself standing alone in one of the balconies overlooking the ballroom floor. When suddenly a gloved hand laid claim to his shoulder. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here tonight?” The voice was smooth like silk but wrapped in layer of unmistakable cheekiness. Claude only adjusted his glasses and having no need to turn around retorted, “I see no reason to indulge you, Michealis.”

Sebastian Michealis, a man he found utterly repugnant was now standing less than a foot behind him callously invading his intimate space. Claude had the powerful urge to grab the wrist attached to that hand and toss the man over the banister, but he resisted it. The cat like gentleman gracefully stepped to Claude’s side so that he could converse with Claude face to face. “Rumor has it you’re looking for a certain commodity,” Sebastian slyly whispered, “a bouquet of sorts.”

Claude replied, “Should it surprise me?  After all, its normal for a dog to be sniffing around other people’s business.” Michealis expression was neutral as he inclined his ear to his old friend.

The two went back a long way. Michealis had ties to the Russian Mafia and Claude the Camorra. When theirs paths first crossed it seemed like a match made in crime syndicate heaven. They both knew the ins and outs of their respective organizations, who was who and who did what. They quietly slaughtered the other’s rivals as a way to climb up the ranks. No one was the wiser; both men were extremely proficient in the act of the kill. That is until Michealis decided to drop a name to the head of Camorra family.

A mocking smile appeared over stranger’s fine lips. “Now, now. There no need to be so rude. ” Sebastian smiled, “An elegant engagement such as this calls for civility and poise,” he tiled his head somewhat letting his tapering locks list further to the side like a quill being dipped in ink. “Though you lack the most basic of courtesies do try to be a sport and display some.”

Claude made a minuscule narrowing of his eyelids. Sebastian had some nerve calling him unrefined.

“My apologies,” he made a visible smirk accompanied by a glare in his eyes “I was not aware that a fact was considered to be an insult these days. I’ll make it a point not to inform you of the rest your mangy habits tonight. Now if you wouldn’t mind I would like to enjoy this time in peace, your presence here is undesirable.”

Another servant rounded the balcony with a tray holding one last glass of the expensive brandy. Before Claude could accept the drink Sebastian nimbly grasped it instead. “There’s no need to be so defensive or sardonic. Or could it be you’re still brooding over our last rendezvous? Curious.  They say time heals all wounds.” The presumptuous man closed his eyes and made his signature smile. A clever facade of upturned lips brimming with amusement and cockiness.

Claude thought to himself, ‘Not when you’ve been pierced through gut and left dead on a cold Sicilian coast.’  He gave the man a cynical look, “Some wounds heal quickly, others slowly, but the scars they leave behind remain.” In all truth, Claude was more than eager to slam Michealis against the railing, pummel him with his bare fist, then toss over it now, but there was work still to be done. Locating Black Rose was the objective, not revenge.

Sebastian made a mocking smile. “Come now, that was a lifetime ago.  Let’s let bygones be bygones. We’re both free agents and the night is young. Surely you’ve time for a little fun.” Claude said nothing the glare in his face spoke clearer than words ever could.

Michealis smirked then removed  something from his inner pocket.  Instantaneously Claude’s gold eye swept over the man’s moving hand half expecting him to pull out his favorite instrument of slaughter.  Instead the man placed an electronic keycard on the railing.

“Well then consider this a gift from one fratello vecchio to another.” He then gestured, tilting his face to a woman below. She wore a high necked backless black dress and a silver mane of flowing platinum hair was and slung over her bare shoulder. The indicators in the assassin’s gear read nothing. The data on her was completely blank. The vixen smiled when she glimpsed at the two men casting their gaze upon her.  She then proceeded to exit the lavish party.

“A bit of advice,” Michealis chirped, “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but do be wary of the thorns. Cheers.” He swallowed the liquor in a few gulps then set the glass on the railing. The man gracefully nodded his head then left Claude to himself.

Claude picked up the translucent plastic and watched as small blue lights made a holographic display of a hotel, an address, and a room number.