Page 6 of Unlocked

He had heard that phrase his entire life and always considered it somewhat melodramatic. These days, it felt less like an expression and more like a forecast.

CHAPTER FOUR

Jason Sakstra looked uncomfortable as he waited on the sidewalk as Archer strolled up. He offered his hand. "Archer, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me. I'm sure your schedule is packed."

"Not a problem," Archer said.

Jason glanced around. "So where's the restaurant?"

They’d met in Montmartre, on a street that sloped beneath their feet, cobblestones uneven and worn smooth by centuries of traffic. Cafés and small shops crowded close to the street, their windows aglow in the early evening light. It wasn't Archer’s usual neighborhood for dinner, at least not at this point in his life. But there had been a time when he'd been a street rat and spent many hours in this part of Paris. He'd spent his youth in London and Rome as well. If there was trouble, he found it. He'd excelled at it.

He pushed those thoughts back into the depths from where they'd come.

"I assumed you wanted to have a serious conversation," Archer said. "One you'd prefer to keep from prying eyes and listening ears."

Jason hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. So that's why we're not at one of the usual places. None of the five-star hotels or Michelin-starred restaurants we normally walk into in Paris."

"I can guarantee someone would pay attention." Archer started walking, guiding his companion down a narrow street, keeping up a constant patter of small talk until they reached the restaurant.

"In here," he said, stopping in front of a modest storefront tucked between a bakery and a shuttered gallery.

Jason glanced at the exterior, surprise flickering across his face. He gave a small shrug and walked inside. Archer followed.

The man behind the counter looked up and broke into a wide smile.

"Archer! Ça fait longtemps. Comment vas-tu, mon ami?"

"Ça fait longtemps, Jean-Pierre, mais je suis très bien. Et vous?"

"Très, très, très bien!" Jean-Pierre clasped his hands together, then switched to English. "It is good to see you. I have your favorite table."

He led them to the back of the restaurant, to a corner table. The place was a hole in the wall. Ten tables total. Low ceilings, closely spaced chairs, the air warm with garlic, wine, and simmering stock. The food was exquisite, the company even better, and Archer trusted every single person in the room.

He took the seat with his back to the wall. Jason sat across from him.

Jean-Pierre glanced at Jason. "Any dietary restrictions?"

Archer already knew the answer. Part of the job. As head of the Lock and Key Society, he made it a point to know everything. Most of it was memorized.

"No," Jason said quickly. "I'm good. Whatever you recommend."

"Excellent." Archer nodded. "Jean-Pierre, we're at your mercy."

Jean-Pierre smiled, rubbed his hands together, and disappeared into the kitchen.

"So," Archer said, "you wanted to talk?"

Jason was still looking around. "This is quite a bit different from what I anticipated," he said with a short laugh.

"Yes. But the food will be fantastic."

"I have no doubt."

Jean-Pierre returned with two wine glasses and filled them with a deep, velvety-looking red before vanishing again.

Jason lifted his glass and took a generous sip.

Archer waited. Patience was part of his job, though he found his personal supply thinning these days.