Lefevre opened his mouth to speak but couldn't get out two syllables before a man stormed in, red in the face, and started yelling about someone marking on his face. Lefevre didn't know what he was talking about, but he recognized the man as the one who smashed the bottle of wine on the floor the night before.
Once the intruder quieted down, the three men turned back to their conversation.
"We can sit here and try to claim blame all night, but it doesn't matter, it's not going to fix what happened," the Sous said bluntly. "We now have a responsibility to see this through. We have an idea of where they were last seen and Gerard picked up a tag and a name before he lost them in Burgandy. I don't think the Lorraine detection pods were malfunctioning."
Lefevre took a bit of his flaky croissant and a sip of coffee to wash it down. The other two were deep in thought.
"So, Lieutenant. What do we do?"
"As you said, Luc...we follow through..."
He pulls back a sleeve, revealing a wrist console strapped to his arm. He makes a few quick taps, and then looks up.
"You should be getting a set of files on your Mobile Comms Units right now. It has a few possible leads we can follow up on..."
He yawns, and sips a bit of his coffee.
"Now, while we're here, I suggest we discuss the events we ourselves saw..."
Perrot sighs.
"...but, before we do this, you have to make a promise to me - no screwing around. No cutting corners. No slacking off. If you mess this up, Im going to have Internal Affairs so far up your ass you won't be able to take a crap. Oui, mes amis?"
"As you say mon ami."
He pulls out his data console from his coat, notices three messages, and clicks the newest one. A few links are pulled up, and he moves someof them to a send file so he can look deeper into it later. He pulls up one of the links, the one about the destroyed loyalist vessel, and looks at the pictures. He looks closely and zooms in, then leans back in his chair. He puts the picture of the council ship on full screen then puts it on the table and spins it around, allowing the others to look.
"That's the ship for sure. Same model and look to it."
He sighs and attempts to drink the coffee, but it is still too hot for him and he puts it down.
"That other ship though, I'm not sure of that model. Any clue of what it might be mes amis?"
Perrot nodded at Gerald, looking into the projection still floating in midair.
"Lillian got some information...from her contacts. It's in one of the messages on your comms units - a station surveillance tape..."
The projection suddenly changed, showing a fuzzy recording. There was the vague picture of a Council vessel, either an Agama or a Basilisk. Near it, there was a strange, grey ship, apparenlt modular, with it's wings set below the cockpit.
"That's the best picture of the ship that we've recorded...it's currently being cross referenced with currently known Sirian ship designs."
He began tapping his finger.
"The other files are profiles on the victims families, possible witnesses, and possible conspirators. I want you to look over that list, and tell me, now, if you know any of them personally."
Perrot sipped his coffee
"Any of them."
Lefevre thumbed through his personal data pad. Some of the names looked familiar - men he served with at some time and in come capacity, but none of them he knew as anything more than a name and rank. He didn't recognize any of the witnesses or conspirators. The civilians were the same story.
"Nothing. I've got nothing on any of these people. You probably know more about them than I do, sir."
He picked up his mug again and drained the last dribble of coffee from it, then signaled the attendant to bring another.
Gerald turned his console around and opened the file that Perrot was talking about and scanned through the list. He checked witnesses and conspirators and found no one he knew. He looked at the victims list and didn't find anything. He sighed and looked down the list again. A name caught his eye and he looked at it. He touched the name and the file came up on Laure Monique, and he looked down.
He hugged himself and bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears. He looked back up and gave the console to Perrot to look at then crunched over, head on the table.
The file came up as a 67 year old woman named Laure Monique, remarried and now dead.
"I know, Gerald"
The Lieutenants voice almost faltered, seeing a grown man there, desperately holding back tears. It was literally heartbreaking...but he knew this would happen.
"It's cruel, but I needed you to see that - I know you wont falter from this..."
He sipped his coffee, clenching his jaw to keep himself straight, and focused.
"You see now, why this must be done..."
A short man walked through the doorway, he was about 5ft. 2 in. tall. He proceeded to make his way towards the counter where one could place his order, and sat down on one of the bar stools. He took a pair of earphones out of his pocket and began listening to music. He didn't need to order, the bartender would know what he wanted, he got the same thing every time he was here. Leon was a man of consistency, and he despised change. Every day, (even when not working,) he dressed in the same uniform, woke up at the same time, ate the same breakfast. And every day, at exactly 3:45 Gallic Mean Time, he went to this bar, listened to the same music, and drank the same thing.
Chloe limped back into the cafe, the same clicking sound heralding her entrance. In her free arm was balanced a data pad, on it scrawled manifests, rosters, and technical data. Her eyes occasionally flicked down to it, scanning the data, then flicked back up to see where she was going.
At the same seat at the same table she sat down, leaning her cane against the same spot on the wall. Sighing heavily, she watched the pad, tapping at it with her fingers to correctly organize this mess.
He'd been watching the same person every day for the past two weeks.
Bernard Levesque was hot on the trail of a Maquis spy who managed to infiltrate the Gallic Royal Police. That was his job as Internal Affairs, to find the corrupt and destroy them. He smiled a bit as today was the day he was going to make his move. Louis Martin was his target.
He was following behind the man at a distance, he glanced to his right quickly to make sure no one else was around, he nodded to himself and looked back towards where Louis Martin had been, he continued down the hall and turned into the Cafe. He slipped his hand into his coat and touched the butt of the pistol. A smile came across Bernard's lips as the man stopped at the counter.
He broke out into a sprint, pulling his pistol out fully, someone shouted something but it was to late as Bernard rammed himself into Louis Martin, slamming him down on the ground. Quickly Bernard got back up and pointed the pistol down at him. "Internal Affairs. You're under arrest, Maquis scum." He smiled shoving his foot into the mans stomach.
Louis let out a loud gasp, and kicked up at Bernard, forcing him to back off. That's when Louis scrambled backwards and pulled out his own pistol. "Internal Affairs?!" Louis shouted, and fired off a round which missed and hit somewhere in the room behind Bernard.
Bernard laughed and aimed his pistol at the man, it was well known at Bernard Levesque, the brother to Arthur Levesque, had quite the aim. He pulled the trigger twice, the first bullet hitting the mans gun hand, causing him to drop it and sequel in pain. The second hit the man dead in the chest.
"When I say you're under arrest, I mean it!" Bernard shouted, moving towards the Maquis spy quickly. The man attempted to move again, pulling out something else, before the man had time to even reveal it more, or use it. Bernard aimed the pistol at the mans head and pulled the trigger.
Ultimately ending the spies life. "To think! I wanted to question the bastard." He said lowering the pistol, and glancing up to see how many people where looking at him.