“Missing–One Black Cat”

Chapter 6

Author's Note: Italics are used to distinguish when characters are speaking in French in scenes when both French and English are spoken

* * *

Much to Solomon’s surprise, it was the sound of knocking that woke him the next morning. He had been certain he wouldn’t fall asleep for even a moment, yet he opened his eyes to find bright sunlight flooding the pleasant room. He reached over but the bed was empty and for a moment he panicked. Had Ray bolted in the night? Even as the thought flashed through his mind, he saw the slim figure crossing silently to the door, clad only in "borrowed" trousers from one of the rooms at their former lodging, and one of Solomon’s sleeveless undershirts.

"Don’t just open it without..." Solomon hadn’t even gotten the warning out completely before he was being subjected to a withering look from those piercing green eyes.

"I may think I’m young, Sol, but I am quite sure I was never stupid," Noir hissed in a low voice as he looked through the peephole. Then, to Solomon’s admiration, he pitched his voice lower than its normal range as he called through the closed door, in fairly clear English, "Yes, what can we do for you? My cousin is still resting and he does not wish to be disturbed."

"I am quite sorry, Mr. Sweet, but I was wondering if your cousin’s brother ever came back yesterday? I was quite surprised to see him run off down the street the way he did after...."

At a sign from Solomon, Noir opened the door to the desk clerk, an earnest looking young man who took one look at Noir’s déshabillé and averted his gaze, red-faced. Of course, he wasn’t any better off looking at Solomon, who had risen from the bed, clad only in his trousers, completely bare-chested. Rolling his eyes at the man’s obvious inability to continue talking while faced with male flesh, Noir tossed Solomon a dressing gown and started buttoning on a shirt. As he belted the worn garment around his body, Sugar couldn’t help noticing that Ray’s old mannerisms, his air of competence and efficiency, were returning. Whatever had been done to him seemed to be wearing off under the influence of regular meals, a couple good nights’ sleep and the company of someone familiar, he thought hopefully. Seeing Florian and Laila was sure to complete the cure. Which brought his wandering thoughts back to the comment made by the clerk.

"What do you mean about my brother? Was he here? A blond man? With..." Solomon paused. He disliked revealing Florian’s most distinguishing characteristic in case this was a trap. Better to have the clerk say it.

"Can you describe the man for me, please? Given our recent experience, I am cautious, you understand."

The clerk nodded. "So he seemed as well. But don’t get me wrong, he was a very polite young man, exceedingly so. Tall, just about the height of your cousin here, a little shorter, perhaps, with blond hair like yours, but much longer, past his shoulders even. We don’t see that much around here any more, no offense. French like yourselves. But I would say the most distinctive thing about him were his eyes. Never saw anyone, man or woman, with eyes that color. Purple, well, not purple, really, more like that gemstone. What is it called?" The clerk looked at them.

"Amethysts," Noir answered quietly. Solomon looked at him, in hopeful surprise. "The purple gems are called amethysts. That is probably what you mean. You’re right. Eyes that color are unusual." He looked thoughtful. Solomon was disappointed that Ray didn’t seem to be having any type of epiphany over the mention of a man with amethyst eyes. He returned his attention to the clerk.

"Yes, that is my brother. Please, tell me, what happened to him. He did not come up to our room. Yet you say he was here and you told him of our room number?"

"Yes, I did. He was quite excited. He was concerned to learn of your injury, of course, but was very pleased that your cousin here had helped you in fighting the men who attacked you. We discussed that briefly. It seems he and your wife," he paused while Noir made a strangled noise at that comment. As the clerk looked over at him, Solomon shook his head behind the man’s back and signaled for the younger man to be quiet. Obviously Florian had felt the need to explain Laila, but where was she while he was doing that? He coughed to regain the man’s attention from the perturbed looking Noir,

"Please, go on. My young cousin is no doubt anticipating the fuss my ‘wife’ will make over my injuries. She tends to become quite distraught whenever I am hurt. But, you were saying?" Solomon motioned for the nervous man to have a seat opposite him at the small table near the window.

"Well, as I was saying, your brother said your wife had lost the paper you gave her that had the name of your hotel on it. As it turns out, they didn’t even go to your prior hotel, so they didn’t find out that you had been hurt as you were so worried about happening. They’d been wandering around trying to find the two of you all day yesterday, checking all the hotels that she thought sounded like the one she remembered being on the piece of paper she lost. Can you imagine? Poor thing was totally worn out and was waiting for him in the tea room across the street. So, of course he was thrilled to learn you were here and went to get her before going up to see you. But that’s when the strangest thing happened. He went over to the tea room, you see, and he stood there in the doorway for a second, then he just up and took off around the building like a jackrabbit!"

The man finished his story and waited expectantly for their reactions. He wasn’t disappointed.

At least, he wouldn’t have been if he had ever learned French. As it was, he could tell his tale had quite an effect on his listeners, and he would have been completely happy with the results if only he could have understood a word of it!

"What is it, then, Solomon? Are these the friends you mentioned? You didn’t tell me you were married! Your wife is here? Why would the man run off like that without bringing your wife here?" Noir looked at Solomon with narrowed eyes, his hands on his hips. Solomon almost thought he saw hurt in those green depths except that didn’t make sense. Why would Ray, well, Noir, be hurt at the idea of him being married? His kiss last night had only been given out of a sense of...what? Gratitude? Curiosity?

He forced himself to focus on what was most important at the moment – Florian and Laila’s whereabouts. A quick glance at the clerk reassured him that it was safe to continue to speak in their native tongue. Rude perhaps, but safe.

"The man is not really my brother, that was a subterfuge on his part, to explain why he was looking for me, and I can only guess he said Laila, who actually is your long time friend and trusted aide de camp, was my wife so that he could in all propriety escort her to our room without causing comment. Florian tends to be concerned with things like that. As to why he ran away, I imagine he took off down the street for much the same type of reason we left our prior lodging by way of the window – trouble found them. Or rather, found Laila as she waited alone for him in the tea room. He must have had no time to come back for us. This is worrisome, Noir, Florian is not...."

"Not what? He has gone to rescue the woman, to save my friend, you say, this Laila...that is a good thing, yes?" Noir’s brow was creased with the effort of following Solomon’s explanation. The man with the gem like eyes, who was not Solomon’s brother, but was instead a friend of his, had been happy to find them. That man had gone to get another friend of his, the woman who was not Solomon’s wife, a fact which relieved Noir somehow, he wasn’t sure why, and despite his reported happiness did not return, due, Solomon tells him, to the interference of those men who were hunting them. Maybe it wasn’t that, and instead they had simply decided they didn’t need to find Noir so much after all? The crease in Noir’s forehead deepened, and his mouth frowned.

The clerk’s eyes were glazed over by the affect of trying to decipher any meaning out of the rapid words. French! Why couldn’t they speak a normal language that sounded like something decent people would speak...like English! At least these two fellows had covered themselves up.

"Ray...my black cat...what has you troubled? We will find Florian and Laila." Solomon stood and walked over to where Noir stood at the window, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Noir turned away from the taller man, unable to answer as to why he was feeling so upset. It wasn’t like he could remember the people Solomon spoke of – could he? Just then, as Noir looked aimlessly out the window, his gaze fell upon a tall, spare man in glasses who was standing outside the tea room, looking across at the hotel. He felt a chill go through him.

"The doctor," he whispered in a low voice, so quietly that Solomon could barely hear him. "Non!" He backed away from the window quickly, stumbling against Solomon, who caught him, grasping his arms so that he wouldn’t fall.

"Ray, what is it? Who is it?" Solomon found himself clasping a shaking Noir to his chest.

Gleaning that the younger man had seen something outside the window, the curious clerk stood up and peered over Solomon’s shoulder to look.

"Why that is Dr.Schlechtkoft, the famous German hypnotist. He’s been in London for the past several weeks, delivering a series of lectures at one of the Academies, you know, where all the black robes meet to listen to dry lectures. Not that his talks are dry. The papers are all full of his stuff. Like a magician he is, they say. Can make a body do anything. A lady was cured of being blind...and another man was made to think he was blind! Stumbled all around the stage, he did."

Solomon felt as though a lightbulb went on. He’d read papers on hypnotism and the work of the French psychotherapists, of course, who were always looking to see how to use the old field of study in new ways to treat the previously untreatable. But in his profession, it was the charlatans who were their biggest concern, as well as the men who used the tools of hypnotism and psychology to prey upon others. As he felt the proud Noir struggling to regain his composure, he wondered, "Just what did that bastard do to you, my black cat?"

But at least now he felt he had a clue as to how they did it. He stared out the window at the tall, thin man with his wire rim glasses and thinning brown hair, and thought to himself, "You will pay, my good doctor, you will pay."

As the man headed across the street to the hotel, Solomon turned to the clerk.

"Dear sir, we must beg your assistance. Would you please, if the good doctor should make inquiries about us, especially about my cousin, or someone of my cousin’s description, say that we have not been here? We cannot explain all right now, but I assure you that it is most important that we not be located right now. My brother is attempting to rescue my...my wife and we must go to his aid. I believe the doctor is our best hope of locating him...and her...quickly. But we must follow him without him knowing. To do that, we will need you to send him off while we slip out the back...will you do that?"

Solomon looked at him earnestly. His simple appeal to the meek little clerk was worth something. So was the look in Ray’s green eyes as he stepped back from Solomon’s comforting arms and squared his shoulders.

"Please...help us," The handsome face with its cleft chin and high cheekbones, set off by those striking green eyes that looked right into a man’s soul, made the little clerk straighten up and try to stand taller himself.

"Well, I didn’t think it was all that right for that doctor fellow to send the bloke walking right off the stage once he got him to thinking he was blind, just to prove to the audience that he really did think he was blind. The bloke hurt himself all right...broke his leg! I’ll help you. Your brother was a decent man, spoke quite politely and I can tell you’re worried about him and the lady. Famous or not, he can’t be a good man when he gets a brave man like your cousin so upset to see him. After all, you told me how your cousin was able to save you from those men who attacked you! You two finish getting ready and go out the back way. Stop in the kitchen and grab a few rolls for your breakfast. I’ll stall him at the front desk. Go on now."

After quickly shaking hands with both of them, and refusing to take the money Solomon tried to press upon him, their room having already been paid for in advance, they bid their new ally farewell. Soon enough, they were tailing the annoyed hypnotist down the street, hoping he would lead them to Florian and Laila.
 

* * *

Florian watched as the two men dragged a visibly exhausted Laila into a warehouse type building, not far from the section of town where several factories were located. It had been a much longer walk than he had been expecting and he could only imagine how tired Laila must be. He was more used to physical exercise than she was, for all that she was very strong for a woman. Even so, he was feeling the strain of the past couple of days. He knew she considered him a very weak man, and compared to Ray, in many ways, he was. But Florian also knew he was strong in ways Laila couldn’t understand. Ray understood, and Florian knew that Ray had come to respect him. His face was set with grim determination now as he weighed his options. His own safety did not even go into the balance; all that mattered to him was getting Laila and Ray safely home to France.

One of Florian’s greatest strengths was in going on when he was exhausted, terrified, and not only completely out of his depth, and fully aware of that fact, yet also aware that he was the only one at hand for the job. It was what made him throw himself after Ray and Azura even if all he could do was die by Ray’s side when Azura was after the Holy Grail. It was what made him fight to save young Noel when the boy was captured by the Black Hand. And it was what made him decide that he couldn’t leave to get help from Ray and Sugar. He had to be sure that Laila was going to be safe until he could return with reinforcements, well, relatively safe, he amended mentally, looking around at the shady looking neighborhood. Thankfully, it was deserted at the moment.

Florian wished he had a cloak with a hood, or something to cover his bright colored hair as he moved into the shadows by the side of the warehouse and looked up at the windows that lined the wall about ten feet from the ground. No doubt Noir could easily find a way in through those, he thought ruefully, but he didn’t happen to have the climbing skills of the average street cat. Almost as though conjured by the thought, a black tom came running down the alley that ran perpendicular to the warehouse. It was chased by a nasty brute of a dog, which wasn’t all that big but had an unpleasant look to its face, Florian noted, picking up a handy stick as a precaution. The spry tom leaped along a series of trash bins of increasing size and then pressed a spot on what appeared to be a blank door that must have been a secret latch of some sort as it caused a crack to appear! The cat pushed in and the door slammed shut after it, directly in the aggravated dog’s face.

"A cat door?" Florian thought wonderingly. What kind of secret bad guy hideout has a pet door like that one? Standing still until the hapless dog wandered off to look for new prey, and counting himself fortunate that he stood downwind of the trash bins, Florian moved closer for a better look at the black cat’s means of entrance into the building. He realized that it wasn’t really a pet door, but a trash chute of some sort. The clever cat had discovered a way to work the mechanism that controlled the hinge from the outside. Steeling his senses against the unpleasant odor of the trash bins, he hoisted himself onto the edge of the tallest one and lightly hit the same spot the cat had, causing the small door to swing open. Holding his breath, he climbed into the chute, and began a slow crawl up the dark tunnel.

"I really hope my friend, sir cat, knows the schedule of this place, and I can trust that no trash will be deposited on my head while I am making my way through this chute," he thought as he inched his way along the narrow space. It was just big enough for his slender frame. He also hoped that there was an opening at the other end, now that he had time to think that far ahead.

Luck was with him. The chute ended at a kitchen of sorts. It was not in use, fortunately, and Florian quickly scrambled out of the small space and into the empty room. Remembering Noir’s on-going tutelage since he’d joined his household, Florian looked around the room as quickly and quietly as possible for something to use as a weapon. He selected a couple of long knives that he could secrete in his coat, and one smaller one that could be hidden in his boot. Hearing someone’s voice, he hid.

"That wench won’t be so smart mouthed as soon as Azura gets here." One of the men who had taken Laila came banging into the room, the door crashing against the wall with a thud. A different man accompanied him. Florian was glad he hadn’t chosen to hide behind it, but had decided to crouch behind a large prep table filled with pots and pans instead. From between two large stock pots, a pair of green eyes stared up at him. Florian put his finger to his lips, hoping his small friend would not give him away.

"You were a bit rough with her," the second man said. He didn’t sound especially regretful, he was just noting a fact. There was the sound of cabinets opening and someone rummaging.

"Never anything decent to eat in this kitchen. Just all that strange Moroccan food. Wish we could have some decent English meat and potatoes. All that time in America, you’d think Azura would’ve learned to like beef."

"Don’t let him hear you complaining," the second man warned. "It’ll be the last thing you do."

"Nah, he’ll be happy with me. I fixed Nick’s mistake. Can you imagine him confusing amethyst with green? Brought back the wrong guy? But I have the right female, and the doctor himself is out looking for that Noir now. The doctor said to...."

Florian had sneezed. He had tried not to, he really did, but the proximity of his feline friend had proved a bit much for his allergies. He looked at the cat, wide-eyed in horror as complete silence followed the muffled sound.

"What was that?" the second man’s voice gruffly asked.

"I don’t know, mice?" The first man didn’t seem as concerned.

Picking up his furry black head, the tom cat gave Florian a look that seemed to say, "Leave this to me." Florian could swear the impish thing even winked at him! Tail swishing, the cat leapt dexterously out from among the pots, around the table and dashed across the room as though in fast pursuit. Of something.

"Just that damn cat," the first man laughed. He must have gotten in through the trash shoot again. I wish Azura would get rid of the damn thing. But he likes it! Go figure. Says it reminds him of someone he used to know. I heard him taunting that Noir guy with it when he was first brought in. Said the cat was freer than he was." The man’s coarse laugh sounded again.

"I remember," the second voice answered. "Are you done getting your food? We’d better get back to the girl. She might wake up."

"She ain’t waking up too soon. I put her out for the count."

Florian tightened his lips.

"Well, I’m going back. You catch up when you’re done."

"Sure, sure. Be right there. I’m going to close off that chute for the night. Don’t want all the neighborhood cats getting in, do we?"

Florian heard the sound of the kitchen door closing on the second man leaving. He waited patiently for the first man to finish eating his fill. Then, he watched the shadow of the big man as he walked past to the trash chute. As the man stood staring at it, trying to figure out a way to lock it from the inside, Florian crept up behind him with a large iron frying pan and sent it crashing down on his thick skull.

The man went down...heavily.

"I think that puts you down for the count," Florian reflected, looking down at the large thug as he lay sprawled on the floor. He would have liked to exact more revenge on the man for what he bragged about doing to Laila, but did not want to waste any more time getting to her. Finding some sturdy wire in one of the kitchen drawers, he trussed the man up, gagged and blindfolded him with some kitchen towels, and dragged him into a pantry. That last step took some time as he was quite a heavy man.

Florian considered his handiwork before closing the pantry door on the man, and as a last measure, decided to remove his shoes and trousers and spread broken glass over the pantry floor.

"There," he thought. "That should take him out of commission for a bit. Now, on to rescue Laila. I wish there were some way to get word to Noir and Sugar."
 

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