How To Hide A Body

How High School English Can Save Your Life

I didn't think that I would have to face Jean a second time, let alone a third. Jean and I stared each other down, waiting for the other to show some sign of submission.

"Entschuldigung," Luis asked, breaking the silence, "Do you know this man?"

"I killed him and gave him the French Prime Minister's children. Of course I know him."

"You what?!" Alex spluttered.

"This is the first time I am meeting him," Bart answered. It had only occurred to me then, that before it had always been just Jean and myself whenever we saw each other. I felt kind of weird seeing him with three other people. Valentin placed the flashlight on the floor next to him, so that his hands were empty.

"Is he really a friend?" Alex asked me, suspiciously. He slowly moved to cover Luis.

"Oh, a friend, I assure you," Jean said. He removed a gun from his leather jacket. His jeans were dirty from the time he had spent in the Catacombs, his cropped black hair glistened with strands of silver spider silk. "Just not Solange's type." The Kray brothers turned to look at me, their faces slackened in surprise. They had discovered my real name. It didn't bother them for long, though.

"Is that supposed to scare us?" Luis asked, looking at the gun, ignoring his brother's protective stance and standing next to him.

"Didn't think it would. So," he reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a small black box with a red button in the centre, "I had this ready, just in case. This will set off a bomb, that Steve McQueen- I believe you call him that?" he chuckled, "That Steve McQueen has strategically placed somewhere within the Catacombs. Not even I know its exact location."

He directed his attention back to me, "He has forgiven you for your mess-up earlier. He hacked your computer, so all your hard work was not for nothing. But, he still ordered me to make this task a bit more challenging for you. I am not as forgiving. So, if you value your lives, I suggest you-"

"What a cliché," I sighed, interrupting his tirade. Jean raised an eyebrow. His finger hovered dangerously over the button. If I could only get my hands on the remote, I thought. "Honestly, you criminals really need to re-evaluate your 'menacing threats'."

He focussed his attention on me. "You look great in that prison jumpsuit." He winked.

"And you looked great dead."

He whistled, "Harsh." He threw the gun up in the air and caught it. "You seem awfully calm next to your friends," Jean said, "If only they knew how terrified you actually are."

"You think I am terrified?" I asked, daring to take a few steps forward.

"Oh honey, I know exactly what kind of person you are," he smiled. He released the safety on the gun, "I did kiss you, after all."

"You might, but I, too, know who you are. I did kill you, after all." I countered, now standing directly in front of him. He pocketed the gun, but he still held the bomb detonator firmly in his hand. He looked surprised but his eyes dared me to go on.

In all honesty, I didn't really know how I was going to continue. I had a dangerous hunch as to why he was working for Steve McQueen. I wasn't certain, but, I had to keep talking my way to the detonator. I was good at talking.

"When I first met you, I thought that Steve McQueen had hired you. A journalist was a good pawn to use in his grand game. But, the more I thought about it, the less I believed it. Why would he want a meagre journalist to discover things for him, when he has, possibly, the most efficient network in the world? No, you are not employed," I tapped his chest with my index finger, "You, too, are being blackmailed." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him replace the detonator into his jacket pocket. "My guess is that you discovered something you shouldn't have."