The Legacy
Message from Paris

Part I Scene I

It didn't look like much. A package, not too thick, wrapped in brown paper. Franklin held it tightly in his hands. It might save him and save The Legacy.

The night was wild and dark, clouds whipping across the moon, plunging the city into darkness then jerking it back into light as the blue moonlight streamed across it briefly. The air hung thick and electric, an eerie sense of calm settling over everything. It was a feeling that nothing good was going to happen.

Twenty feet: that was all it was to the postal box; only twenty feet. Not enough to even get out of breath. Tonight it seemed to stretch twenty miles. Franklin looked around; making sure the street was empty, then slipped out of his car, scurried across the street and opened up the slot to the mailbox. The package teetered on the edge for a moment then dropped in.

"You will know what to do, Benoit." He said under his breath as the package disappeared into the darkness. "I just hope you do it quickly my friend. I am depending on you."

It hit the bottom of the box with a soft thud, nestling among the bills and letters to grandma. Normally Franklin would have used an agent to deliver the package, or the Legacy courier service. But he could trust no one. It was safer to send it post.

The stillness was broken by a shriek of wind that rattled the trees. Franklin glanced around nervously. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. Quickly, he walked back to his car, slipped in and closed the door, trying to close out the feeling too. He sat there for a moment, then turned the ignition and drove into the night.

Part I Scene II

"He's on the move."

A slender woman crouched behind a wall that bordered the park across the street from where the Saab had been parked a few minutes ago. She was dressed all in black; a few pieces of chestnut hair escaping the black stocking cap pulled tightly over her head. She wore a lightweight headset that sat in her ear and curved around to sit just below her lips. She was holding a gun.

She'd thought she'd lost him as she watched the late model Saab speed away from the row of flats they'd been watching for weeks. Without thinking, she ran down the street after the car, risking her cover. Then he was gone. She jumped into the black van they had been using for surveillance and started after the car. Now, as she watched the red taillights disappear into the night she knew it was time for them to make their move.

"This is bullshit." She muttered into the headset to her unseen companion. "He knows too much and all we do is watch and wait. If we take him out, we will eliminate the risk."

"Return to base, Nightingale. You're about to get your wish." A male voice hissed in her ear. "It's time to remove Fairchild from the picture."

The woman smiled. That was the kind of decisiveness she loved. Tucking her gun into the waistband of her black stretch pants, she headed back towards the van. After tonight, it would all be over.

Part I Scene IV

It was dark when Franklin opened the door to his flat. He froze. He had left the small light on the side table on. He always left a light on, especially since he'd found out about the girl and the terrible project that wouldn't leave his dreams. He'd started to hate the night. But now the light was off. Franklin felt his heart start to beat hard. Then he felt the prick at his neck.

"It's over Fairchild." The voice hissed in his ear. Slowly the needle plunged in his vein. The room started to get fuzzy and his heart beat faster and fast. Franklin pushed at the man who was holding him, stumbling into the middle of the room. His vision started to cloud over, and he slowly collapsed to the ground. The last thing he saw before slipping into the blackness of unconsciousness was a priest across the room, a smile across his face.

Part I Scene V

It was late when Mike realized something was wrong. Something had been nagging at her since she saw Franklin pull up and return to his prison cell. She'd missed something, but she couldn't figure out what. Shrugging, Mike had grabbed a powered sugar donut and dunked it into her now cold coffee.

Now, as she started to doze off, it was nagging at her again. Maybe it was all the years of training talking to her, telling her that she'd slipped up, that she'd missed something. Something...then it came to her.

Mike bolted straight up, her heart pounding.

Oh my God. The priest.

That was what was wrong. The priest had never left the building. Her donut and coffee fell to the floor, spilling milky brown liquid all over the carpet, but Mike didn't see it. She pushed out the door and ran down the hall, pushing a young man out of her way as she almost fell down the stairwell.

The Priest



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