Chapter 4: The Meeting

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  Paris, France – 8:50 AM

  Leon Graves had been waiting inside the abandoned warehouse on Rue des Belles Feuilles for nearly ten minutes, concealed behind a stack of rusted shipping crates. The air was damp from last night’s rain, the scent of rust and wet concrete thick in the air. He had learned long ago that patience saved lives.

  Through a narrow gap in the crates, he watched as a black Mercedes-Benz S-Class pulled up outside. The headlights cut through the early morning gloom before shutting off. The vehicle was professional—luxury without excess, a car chosen by people who needed to move discreetly while still commanding respect.

  The driver’s door opened, and the woman stepped out. She was alone. No security detail, no secondary car idling down the street. Either she was confident in her precautions, or she trusted Renzo.

  Leon’s eyes narrowed slightly. Renzo’s name was one he recognized. If she relied on him, it meant she had influence in the right circles—people who didn’t waste time with low-level operators. That made this meeting more interesting.

  She moved with purpose, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, her heels clicking softly against the wet pavement. Her posture was composed, every movement deliberate. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t check her surroundings.

  Leon remained still, watching her enter the warehouse. He listened. No extra footsteps, no hushed voices. She was truly alone. Only after confirming that did he finally step from the shadows.

  "You’re here," she said without turning around. Her voice was steady, controlled. "I trust we’re not wasting time?"

  Leon approached, his hand near his coat—always prepared, never careless.

  “Don’t turn around,” he ordered.

  She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then obeyed.

  "Give me the business," Leon said, his voice even.

  She slid a folder across the table. The paper shifted slightly, the only sound in the vast, empty space.

  Leon didn’t reach for it immediately. He had learned that the moment he opened a folder, he was committed. He dictated the pace, not the client.

  Finally, he flipped it open.

  A photograph stared back at him.

  An older man, early sixties. Silver hair, neatly combed back. Piercing gray eyes. A sharp, calculating expression.

  The name printed beneath it meant nothing to Leon.

  Edmund Blackwell.

  Leon studied the photo, his expression unreadable. He had never heard of Edmund Blackwell, but he didn’t need to. He already knew this job was dangerous. The way this meeting had been set up, the way the woman had arrived alone yet completely at ease—it all pointed to one thing.

  This wasn’t a simple contract.

  Leon closed the folder. "This isn’t small."

  The contractor remained silent for a moment before responding. "I assume that means your price will reflect the risk."

  Leon’s tone was cold. "€10 million upfront. Another €10 million after completion."

  She exhaled softly. "That’s double what we discussed."

  Leon didn’t waver. "Because this isn’t just another job. Whoever Blackwell is, you wouldn’t be standing here if he was easy to remove. If I take this contract, I need certainty. That certainty comes at a price."

  The contractor hesitated. "I’ll have to get approval from my higher-ups."

  Leon gave a slow nod. "Do that. But I don’t move until we agree on the terms."

  She remained silent for a few moments, considering his words. Then, her tone shifted slightly—not quite casual, but probing.

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  "You’ve been active in Germany," she said. "Langley. Krause. I need to know if that will come back to us."

  Leon’s gaze hardened. So they had been watching him.

  "I don’t leave trails," he said coldly.

  The contractor didn’t respond immediately. Then, after a long pause, she simply said, "Understood."

  She turned and walked away, her heels clicking softly against the concrete.

  Leon remained still. He watched her leave, his mind already calculating his next move.

  He didn’t know who Edmund Blackwell was. But he didn’t need to.

  The only thing that mattered was that this job was dangerous.

  And Leon Graves never took a contract he couldn’t complete.

  Now, the hunt had begun.

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  Paris, France – Later That Day

  Leon sat at a small, discreet café, sipping an espresso as he watched the bustling Parisian streets. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of pastries, creating an inviting atmosphere. Despite the serene environment, unease gnawed at him. He had broken one of his cardinal rules—never meet with a contractor to discuss target details. Even though the woman hadn’t seen his face, something about the encounter left a bad feeling.

  "Rules exist for a reason," he thought. "Breaking them invites trouble."

  Leon’s gaze shifted from the street to his laptop screen. He connected to his secure web platform using a pendrive, encrypting his connection to ensure no prying eyes could access his data. The hum of the café around him faded into the background as he focused on the task at hand.

  He entered the details from the folder, searching for information on Edmund Blackwell. The search results revealed a man with a formidable reputation—CEO of a multinational conglomerate with ties to various intelligence agencies and a private military force at his disposal. Blackwell's influence extended across Europe and beyond, making him a high-profile and dangerous target.

  Leon read through the initial reports, noting Blackwell’s public appearances, known associates, and recent activities. He refrained from delving too deep since the contract wasn’t confirmed yet. Still, the preliminary information was enough to understand the gravity of the situation.

  "This job feels different," he mused. "Something’s off."

  Leon’s instincts were rarely wrong, and he couldn’t afford any mistakes. He glanced around the café, taking in the sights and sounds of Paris. The city’s charm and vibrancy contrasted sharply with the dark world he operated in. The juxtaposition was not lost on him.

  "I need to tread carefully," he thought. "One wrong move, and everything could unravel."

  Leon closed his laptop, his mind already strategizing the next steps. He would wait for the contractor's confirmation before proceeding further. In the meantime, he would remain vigilant, ensuring his tracks were covered and no one could trace his movements.

  As he finished his espresso and prepared to leave, Leon couldn’t shake the feeling that this job would be unlike any other he had taken. The stakes were higher, the risks greater, and the margin for error nonexistent.

  "Edmund Blackwell may be powerful, but he’s not untouchable," Leon reminded himself. "I’ve taken on impossible tasks before. This will be no different."

  With that resolve, Leon stepped out of the café and into the bustling streets of Paris, his mind focused on the challenge ahead.

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  End of Chapter 4

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