Chapter 27 : ICE CREAAAM !!!

Quota 0/391 - 26 days left to begin the quota

The ice cream truck drove up to Victor.

There was absolutely no place to park on a New York avenue like this one, and the driver seemed fully aware of it. He turned on his hazard lights before stopping right in front of Victor, who could now admire the side of the truck.

ICE CREAM HALF OFF IF YOU'RE PART OF THE COMPANY!

This message was accompanied by a drawing of a fictional employee wearing a bright orange vest. The little character wore a black diving mask that covered his face, held an ice cream cone in his right hand, and gave a thumbs-up with his left.

Before Victor could wonder which company the sign was referring to, the metal shutter slid up. Leaning against the counter stood a woman with jet-black hair. Her tank top revealed numerous tattoos and, most notably, the gleaming barrel of a handgun.

'Does everyone carry a gun around in this country?' Victor asked himself as the ice cream truck's music died away.

While he wondered about that, the woman bent down to pick up a box. It had to be Victor's package because his initials, V.D.F, were written on it in black ink. It also bore some kind of seal that had been torn off and then taped back together with a small piece of tape.

Confusion flashed through Victor's eyes as he turned to the delivery woman.

"I was just curious. No need to look at me like that…" she mumbled in response to his silent question.

Victor was getting one surprise after another.

"You speak French?"

He was all the more astonished because she didn't have a trace of an accent.

"I need to be able to sell my ice cream. If I speak every language, I can go anywhere and sell to anyone."

At this point, Victor's expression was nothing but bewilderment.

'So, are you planning to hire ice cream vendors around the world to deliver my stuff?' he asked to his little inner voice.

Of course not, dear host! There's only one ice cream truck and one delivery person, but they will always be on time, no matter where you are.

'And how is that supposed to work?' Victor continued, just as the woman handed him his package.

That's a professional secret, dear host!

Victor dropped the subject. After all, he had a jester as a pet just hanging from his keychain. Hardly anything else seemed impossible by comparison.

He hurried to take the package from the woman's hands and thanked her.

"Want some ice cream with that? Don't worry! For you, it's fifty percent off," she announced after grabbing a scoop.

Victor thought it would be a shame to pass up such a deal, but he was broke. With a regretful look, he declined the offer.

"Don't worry, Monsieur de la Fayette. We'll share one next time!"

With that, she lowered the shutter and drove off without any music this time, leaving Victor standing there with his newly aquired walkie-talkies.

Of course, he wasn't the one interested in them, so he simply went back up the steps of the hotel with the box to hand it over to Nathaniel.

After handing over the package, Victor noticed he didn't have much to do. Everyone else was already busy getting ready for the upcoming trip. The plane had been arranged by whoever was behind all those letters, but Victor didn't know anything about the rest. Olivia had left first to speak with one of her contacts and secure a shipment of weapons in case things went sideways.

Victor had no idea how she had pulled that off, especially given that Russia was at war and importing weapons was forbidden.

'Let's hope she's not grabbing them straight from the front line, or someone's really not going to be happy…'

Shirley had left to take care of their local transportation once they arrived. Victor had no idea if he should expect a Mercedes G-Class, a Humvee like before, or maybe even a tank. He also didn't know if they could use any of them if the weather in the Russian tundra turned bad.

Nathaniel was the last to leave, taking the box of walkie-talkies with him and muttering incomprehensible words in English, leaving Victor alone at the table.

He didn't know anybody in town, had no money, and didn't speak any language other than French. The afternoon promised to be deadly dull for Victor—until a man sat down at his table.

He looked to be in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, a neatly trimmed beard reminiscent of an English lawn, and a sharp business suit. Around his wrist was a stunning watch that immediately caught Victor's eye.

'Maybe I should go out this afternoon and try to buy a watch. It won't be as nice as his, but at least I'll be able to keep track of the time underground for the next quota.'

Noticing Victor's interest, the man spoke up:

"You have an eye for fine things, Monsieur de la Fayette."

To Victor's complete surprise, the man spoke flawless French. He also pulled a midnight-blue box out of his coat pocket. A snowflake-like symbol, presumably the brand logo, was engraved on top, but Victor had no idea what was inside.

"Why don't you try it on, see if it fits?"

Inside the box was a watch. Its white dial sparkled in the sunlight, practically blinding Victor, while the subtle scent of leather wafted from the band. Victor had only one thought in mind as he saw the thin lettering on the dial and the gold adorning its edges:

MONEY.

It wasn't the same watch the man was wearing, but both looked similar enough that they might be from the same watchmaker.

But none of that mattered to Victor. He closed the box and set it on the table in front of him.

"What do you want?"

He was pleased to be offered a watch—especially since he couldn't afford one himself—but he wasn't about to get involved in any shady business for such a small price.

'The Company does weird stuff, but at least they pay well…' he grumbled to himself.

The man simply offered a slight smile in response to Victor's grousing.

"I just want to get to know you because I think we could do business together."

"Oh, really?"

The man seemed unfazed by Victor's skeptical tone.

"Aren't you an employee of the Company?"

"How do you know that?"

He shrugged.

"You can do a lot more with money than just buy watches. I can't supply you with weapons like some of your friends, but you'd be surprised, Monsieur de la Fayette, at all the things money can buy."

Victor felt like he was listening to some Sicilian mafia boss.

"What exactly are we talking about?"

"If you need accommodations, clothing, or any form of transportation, I can arrange it."

"Even if I don't have any money?"

The man chuckled softly.

"I've never seen anyone in your line of work who wasn't rich, unless they were dead," he said, getting up from the table.

He pulled a business card from his coat and handed it to Victor.

"Feel free to call me even if you have no money, Monsieur de la Fayette. I enjoy investing in people. Now then, I'll let you get back to your preparations. Don't hesitate to call the number on the back of the card when you want to talk further."

He shook Victor's hand before leaving the hotel with a satisfied smile.

Down the steps, a bodyguard and his butler were waiting by a tinted-window sedan.

"How did your meeting go, sir?" his butler asked as he sat beside him in the backseat.

He could see his employer was whistling, something he only did on particularly joyous occasions.

"They let me speak with him. He should come back to us in a few weeks or maybe a few months. In any case, I'm in no hurry. A good investment takes time before it becomes profitable."

"With all due respect, sir, how can you be so sure he'll contact us again?"

The man answered the butler's question with another question.

"Do you know how to fasten a watch?"

It was a simple question, and the butler gave an equally simple answer.

"With a buckle, sir?"

"Exactly!"

A heavy silence settled inside the car, undisturbed by any outside noise. The man, who had begun whistling again, stopped when he saw the puzzled look on his butler's face.

"I asked the guys at Patek to install a new buckle system where the watch's dial acts as a lock. You can only unlock it by aligning the numbers on the dial like a safe's combination. That's how you release the buckle."

The butler's face grew even more confused.

"In other words: No code, no buckle. No buckle, no closure. No closure, no watch. No watch?... No watch. I saw the look in his eyes—he loves watches, and only we can help him get this one fastened. At that moment, he'll contact us."

After noticing a spark of realization in the butler's eyes, the man resumed whistling.

'God, I love money,' he thought as they headed back to his villa.

Meanwhile, Victor was still seated at the same table. His confusion hadn't lessened in the last few minutes, even after replaying the scene in his mind several times. A man had shown up, offered him a watch that looked quite expensive, told him he was going to be rich, said he was "investing in him" like he was a piece of cryptocurrency, handed him a business card, and then left without further explanation.

All of that happened in under five minutes. It had gone by so fast that Victor hadn't even had time to ask for the man's name.

'Well, at least he probably wrote it on his business card,' he thought, picking up the little slip of paper he'd left on the table.

A phone number was written on the back:

+1 (212) 555 - 1XXX

On the other side was a name and a short paragraph:

If you don't have a phone with an international plan, I'm sure one of your friends has already taken care of that for you. The watch is a gift to make up for the inconvenience caused during your flight.

William Smith

What is this guy talking about? Victor grumbled.

He still didn't trust this "William Smith," but he put the business card in his pants pocket. After all, he didn't mind getting free luxury watches from strangers.

'Worst case, I'll send my new pet to pay him a little visit in the night and bite his ass,' he thought, turning his attention to the watch in front of him.

It was still there, shining in its beautiful midnight-blue case. Now that he could examine it more closely, Victor noticed a problem: the buckle wouldn't open.

'Maybe I should call him and say his gift is defective…' Victor mused, then shook his head.

All of that could wait until he got back from Siberia. For now, all he'd need was a little piece of tape…