Chapter 56 - 56:

Words : 1276 Updated : Sep 12th, 2025

Paris was still soaked in rain when the train stopped. It was morning, the station emptier than usual, the rain dropping on the metal roof, making noise quietly in the deserted platforms. Strange. Étienne Moreau stepped down from the carriage, feeling the chill seep through his coat as his boots hit the wet pavement. Behind him, Renaud stretched, yawning widely. His uniform collar was damp from the journey, and he adjusted his cap, scanning the station lazily. But if looked deeper one could see a sharp look disguised in that lazy body language. Two black Citroën cars waited quietly near the end of the platform. Beside each vehicle stood men in gray overcoats, stiff and expressionless, their uniforms stripped of insignia. Moreau immediately felt the unease tightening in his chest. Renaud leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper, "Well, this is warm." Moreau said nothing, studying the men waiting for them. Their silence was louder than words, and their presence spoke volumes about the situation. One of them a lieutenant, judging by his manner rather than rank insignia stepped forward. His salute was sharp, precise. "Capitaine Moreau. Sergent Renaud. You'll come with us," the lieutenant said flatly. Moreau eyed him carefully. "Destination?" "Classified. Orders from the Ministry." Renaud muttered dryly, "You could at least say please." The lieutenant didn't react. His voice was cold and patient. "Please step into the car." Moreau exchanged a brief glance with Renaud, then nodded. There was nothing to gain from resisting, and they both knew it. He led the way to the nearest Citroën, opening the rear door and sliding onto the stiff leather seat. Renaud followed, his expression serious. Only a fool could not see the obvious strategy of putting pressure and avoiding public. Inside no one spoke as the cars pulled away from the station. They drove in silence through empty streets, each corner passed under the watchful eyes of guards at checkpoints, their presence visible through the wet glass. After several minutes, Moreau finally broke the silence. "How long, you think?" Renaud glanced out the window, squinting slightly. "Twenty minutes, maybe. Looks like we're heading to the government district." Moreau felt the tension in his shoulders growing tighter. "They're playing this quietly. You feel it?" Renaud nodded slowly. "Too quietly. Usually means they're worried." Something is wrong even if this is supposed to be an ambush why are they putting so much effort to make sure he is not seen by the public. Moreau leaned back and started thinking trying to find anything from his memories ofnother life but unfortunately this is a blind zone. When the car slowed, turning onto Rue Saint-Dominique, Moreau recognized the route instantly. They were heading directly into the heart of administrative Paris where the power behind power sat quietly, making decisions behind closed doors. The car pulled through Iron gates into a narrow courtyard. The building ahead was old, gray stone walls illuminated faintly by lamps. It reminded Moreau of something between a prison and a tomb fitting given the circumstances. They were escorted into the building by yet another silent officer, their footsteps ringing down narrow corridors lined with unmarked doors. No one spoke, not even a greeting. Moreau watched carefully as they passed closed offices and halls, noticing again the lack of insignia or names. Eventually, they reached a small waiting room. The officer gestured stiffly inside. "You'll wait here," he said curtly, closing the door behind him without another word. Renaud sank heavily into one of the two wooden chairs placed by a plain table. On the table sat a single cup of coffee, already cooling. He eyed it suspiciously and sighed deeply. "Feels like a dentist's office. Except we're the teeth." Moreau didn't reply. He started thinking the possibility. "I am not able to understand this..." he finally murmured. Renaud leaned back, eyes half-closed. "Yeah you don't need to, only thing is they're scared. They are playing it psychological." The silence dragged. S~eaʀᴄh the NôvelFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. After several minutes, a door opened briefly, and a junior officer stuck his head inside. His voice was cold. "Capitaine Moreau, you'll be escorted to the committee chamber shortly. Please do not attempt to leave this floor." He disappeared before either of them could respond. Renaud shook his head, chuckling bitterly. "They didn't even offer biscuits. Now I feel insulted." Moreau didn't laugh. He studied the walls closely, noticing for the first time how bare the room was. No flags, no portraits, no documents nothing to suggest where exactly they were or who they were dealing with. The message was clear: you were here because they allowed it, and you'd leave only if they decided it. Across the building, behind thick walls and closed doors, preparations were quietly underway. Files were stacked on tables. In a smaller adjoining room, Beauchamp stood calmly, hands clasped behind his back, watching the preparations. Drouet and Valois stood nearby, both silent and wary. Beauchamp glanced toward Valois . "Is he here?" Valois nodded, pouring himself a cup of black coffee. "Yes, sir. Waiting. Exactly as we planned." Beauchamp let out a thoughtful breath. "Good." Drouet frowned slightly, glancing toward the door that led to the main chamber. "And now?" Valois sipped his coffee, bitterness washing over his tongue. "Make him sit there an hour. Let him sweat a little." Drouet nodded, his gaze distant. "And then?" Beauchamp replied. "Then we begin." Back in the waiting room, time dragged slowly. Moreau finally sat down, restless but forced into stillness by the wait. Renaud's breathing had steadied, half-dozing despite the discomfort. "You know," Moreau murmured, staring at the blank wall, "the people in charge stopped believing in the country a long time ago." Renaud opened one eye, looking sideways at Moreau. "I think they still believe. Just not in us." Moreau sighed, leaning back against the hard chair. Minutes turned into an hour, each tick of the clock louder and more oppressive. The rain outside intensified, pattering against the windows. The entire building felt hollow, emptied of warmth or humanity. Eventually, footsteps approached, sharp and precise. The door opened again, and this time a senior officer stood in the doorway. His expression was impassive, unreadable. "Capitaine Moreau, the committee will see you now." Moreau stood, straightening his coat. He exchanged one last glance with Renaud, who nodded silently, encouragement in his weary eyes. Moreau followed the officer through a short maze of corridors. They reached a pair of large wooden doors, polished but plain. Without another word, the officer pushed them open. Inside, the room was bright. A long table stretched across the room, behind which sat a line of stern-faced men, each with a folder and notes neatly placed before them. No smiles, no greetings. A single chair waited for Moreau, isolated in the middle of the room, facing the committee. "Sit down, Capitaine," said Colonel Valois, his voice calm, authoritative, and cold. Moreau sat slowly, meeting their gazes one by one. Each face revealed nothing but careful indifference. It was clear this was no ordinary review. Valois opened the folder slowly, his eyes briefly flicking toward Moreau. "We have several important questions to discuss." Moreau felt his pulse quicken, but outwardly he remained calm, composed. He knew what this was politics mixed with suspicion, wrapped in bureaucracy. "I'm ready," he replied quietly. Valois's mouth twitched slightly in what might have been a smile, or perhaps something colder. "We shall see, Capitaine."

Chapter 56 - 56:

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