02-19-2014, 12:17 AM
Jacques was distracted from his little logic puzzle by some sort of disturbance far below and a few blocks away. The array of pop ups, reference markers, movement trackers and area-of-influence borders vanished and he opted on just zooming in on the source of the shenanigans below.
By the time Reed had burst back onto the roof, Jacques was already pondering what to do about the situation. It certainly wouldn't due to let more violence go unchecked in an already disintegrating city, but equally so he couldn't just go butting his nose into the local constabulary's jurisdiction, even if there was no hope of them showing up on time. So who could he get to foot the bill, and take the heat legally?
And lo did Reed return with exactly what Jacques wanted to hear. He spun and started towards the door, forwarding a brief to his team so many levels below, then sent a bundle of legal files to Reed's Wallet, "Get someone to sign on the dotted line on that contract and insurance package. Six hour 'services exploratoires' package. Once signed, forward a copy to the attached offices, tagged 'Uniform Romeo' for immediate assessment and approval. Once flagged under that heading, actions incurred on the unprocessed request can be retroactively covered."
He hauled the door open and pounded his way down the stairs, just assuming she was hot on his heels. He didn't bother asking which 'boss' she meant. The real one probably wasn't the type to need mercs after all. "Six hour service fee is $20,000. We will be favouring non-violence or limited violence response to bring the situation under control. And will you be accompanying us to the site?"
By the time they reached the elevator, it opened to reveal Cpl Ime holding a non-descript olive drab dufflebag, and one of the hotel staff with a key to over-ride the elevator so it wouldn't stop at any floors but what they pressed. "Sir. Provost Boipelo has his team in the parkade gearing up. Ma'am. Caporal Ime, Mr Danjou's personal assistant."
The Nigerian man offered to shake her hand before accepting Jacques' suit jacket, and the dress shirt that quickly followed it, and folded them over his arm. He had already gotten changed, wearing bulky and out-dated body armour and tan fatigues. Most amusing was the white cap that sat on his head, a white kepi.
Jacques was quite practiced at getting changed in elevators, shrugging out of his expensive work clothes and tugging on fatigues identical to Ime's. The elevator was making it's way to the ground floor rather then the parking garage beneath, but could be made to delay if Reed needed to make a stop along the way.
Reed's assessment that he had 'filled out' over the years was pretty accurate. Well toned, he was no stranger to the gym and was surely not just some pencil-pushing businessman. He shrugged out of his expensive hidden vest and offered it to her in case she wanted something a bit more protective then a tight t-shirt.
By the time the elevator opened up on the ground floor, another of his men was standing there waiting. A sturdy pump-action shotgun hung from a strap over his shoulder, and an equally stout looking extendable baton was hung to his belt. An old olive drab canvas gas mask carrier hung off his other hip. They were the cream of the crop of private security in Africa, but their toys were decades out of date compared to what the CCD had to offer.
He handed Jacques and Ime belts and drop-down holsters which they quickly slung on, then they were strolling across the lavishly appointed lobby as if nothing were amiss. Outside, parked on the curb of the hotel were the Legion's two black SUVs, backed up towards the doors much to the anger of the hotel staff, but the mercenaries didn't seem to be paying them any mind as they loaded shotguns with beanbag rounds and strapping tear-gas canisters to their belts.
"Extraction is the name of the game aujourd'hui, mes gars. Angry crowd. Journalists. In, grab, out. Caporal Ime, you are to T-up with local law enforcement and ambulance. Arrange a rendezvous point."
The team finished gearing up in short order and were piling into the vehicles and away, a seat saved for Reed if she decided to accompany. No screeching tires or madly spinning of steering wheels. Calm, cool, and collected.
By the time Reed had burst back onto the roof, Jacques was already pondering what to do about the situation. It certainly wouldn't due to let more violence go unchecked in an already disintegrating city, but equally so he couldn't just go butting his nose into the local constabulary's jurisdiction, even if there was no hope of them showing up on time. So who could he get to foot the bill, and take the heat legally?
And lo did Reed return with exactly what Jacques wanted to hear. He spun and started towards the door, forwarding a brief to his team so many levels below, then sent a bundle of legal files to Reed's Wallet, "Get someone to sign on the dotted line on that contract and insurance package. Six hour 'services exploratoires' package. Once signed, forward a copy to the attached offices, tagged 'Uniform Romeo' for immediate assessment and approval. Once flagged under that heading, actions incurred on the unprocessed request can be retroactively covered."
He hauled the door open and pounded his way down the stairs, just assuming she was hot on his heels. He didn't bother asking which 'boss' she meant. The real one probably wasn't the type to need mercs after all. "Six hour service fee is $20,000. We will be favouring non-violence or limited violence response to bring the situation under control. And will you be accompanying us to the site?"
By the time they reached the elevator, it opened to reveal Cpl Ime holding a non-descript olive drab dufflebag, and one of the hotel staff with a key to over-ride the elevator so it wouldn't stop at any floors but what they pressed. "Sir. Provost Boipelo has his team in the parkade gearing up. Ma'am. Caporal Ime, Mr Danjou's personal assistant."
The Nigerian man offered to shake her hand before accepting Jacques' suit jacket, and the dress shirt that quickly followed it, and folded them over his arm. He had already gotten changed, wearing bulky and out-dated body armour and tan fatigues. Most amusing was the white cap that sat on his head, a white kepi.
Jacques was quite practiced at getting changed in elevators, shrugging out of his expensive work clothes and tugging on fatigues identical to Ime's. The elevator was making it's way to the ground floor rather then the parking garage beneath, but could be made to delay if Reed needed to make a stop along the way.
Reed's assessment that he had 'filled out' over the years was pretty accurate. Well toned, he was no stranger to the gym and was surely not just some pencil-pushing businessman. He shrugged out of his expensive hidden vest and offered it to her in case she wanted something a bit more protective then a tight t-shirt.
By the time the elevator opened up on the ground floor, another of his men was standing there waiting. A sturdy pump-action shotgun hung from a strap over his shoulder, and an equally stout looking extendable baton was hung to his belt. An old olive drab canvas gas mask carrier hung off his other hip. They were the cream of the crop of private security in Africa, but their toys were decades out of date compared to what the CCD had to offer.
He handed Jacques and Ime belts and drop-down holsters which they quickly slung on, then they were strolling across the lavishly appointed lobby as if nothing were amiss. Outside, parked on the curb of the hotel were the Legion's two black SUVs, backed up towards the doors much to the anger of the hotel staff, but the mercenaries didn't seem to be paying them any mind as they loaded shotguns with beanbag rounds and strapping tear-gas canisters to their belts.
"Extraction is the name of the game aujourd'hui, mes gars. Angry crowd. Journalists. In, grab, out. Caporal Ime, you are to T-up with local law enforcement and ambulance. Arrange a rendezvous point."
The team finished gearing up in short order and were piling into the vehicles and away, a seat saved for Reed if she decided to accompany. No screeching tires or madly spinning of steering wheels. Calm, cool, and collected.