02-04-2014, 06:10 PM
The scenic route accomplished exactly what Jacques needed of it. By the time the three vehicle motorcade made it back to the hotel, he was left pondering the cryptic message. Perhaps it was literal? There was certainly a shit-storm brewing for DV. Extremist demonstrations and attacks were on the rise. Accendancy himself was in the Dominance, the living embodiment of the CCD and everything those very extremists hated.
They pulled into the underground parkade without issue, where they had to pass through an unusual level of security. The Ascendancy wasn't staying in the same hotel, but apparently many of the reporters that were cleared to speak with the man were.
Some time later, Jacques stood in his suite over looking the Grand Mosque, sipping from a bottle of water as his men settled into the adjoining suite. Cpl Ime and Provost Boipelo sat at the island in the suite kitchenette.
Ime continued to brush up on the CCD's corporate laws and legislation's, while the Provost familiarized himself with the more day-to-day laws and firearms regulations.
Another sip of water, and he frowned slightly to see crowds gathered so far below. In the distance he could see the highways and train tracks, all packed with pilgrims flocking to the holy site. A sea of tents that had a strange sense of permanency about them had gathered on the outskirts of the Grand Mosque, and corrals of horses, goats, and camels could be seen even from where he stood. "Provost. Heading to the roof. I need to see the big picture here."
The two men glanced over at Jacques, but he waved them off to resume their own tasks. The building's security was tight enough that he wasn't concerned with wandering the halls without an escort.
A short time later, Jacques let himself onto the roof of the hotel, twirling a key-ring and access card he had temporarily purchased from one of the building's staff around his finger. He still wore his suit jacket, although it hung open since he was out of the public eye, and a pair of sunglasses were plucked from the pocket to shield his eyes from the bright sun above.
The roof was much as he expected; gravel, various exhausts and air vents, and of course a helipad for the especially rich that could pay the fees to allow a helicopter so close to the Grand Mosque. He was neither so rich nor so disrespectful to have bothered with something like that.
He stood a moment to adjust to the sudden blast of heat and light as the door fell shut behind him, and casually scanned the perimeter of the building's roof. Or at least what he could see from where he stood. Quiet and isolated, just as he had hoped. Two steps from the door and his field of view shifted as he passed one of the air vents, and he paused again. Not so alone, apparently.
A woman. Caucasian, and decidedly out of dress for the neck of the woods she was in. What would the pilgrims so far below have thought should they see her? Hell, what did the building's staff think behind those professional airs they put on? He shook his head then started towards her, making a point of being heard; the crunch of gravel under foot would surely tip her off to his approach, even over the wind so high up.
Of course, approaching from behind, he couldn't exactly complain about her choice of attire. Short jacket, AND tight jeans? An excellent combination in any other part of the world. Maybe one of the reporters? No...they were too image oriented not to at least through a headwrap on. And with her choice of imagers which she used to survey the crowd below and what lay beyond, she was surely not some simple reporter. The way she held herself was off. Some added layer of security, perhaps? She had an air similar to the woman Michael had sent to pluck him from the good Doctor Weston.
He stepped up to the rail that lined the building's edge a few feet to her left, and rested a hand on the rail and another on the arm of his glasses as he peered down the building's face to the road below. "Afternoon, young lady. An interesting view, isn't it? So many, travelling so far, to look at...what, I wonder? Can you believe that not so many years ago, folks like us would never be allowed to stand where we are now?"
They pulled into the underground parkade without issue, where they had to pass through an unusual level of security. The Ascendancy wasn't staying in the same hotel, but apparently many of the reporters that were cleared to speak with the man were.
Some time later, Jacques stood in his suite over looking the Grand Mosque, sipping from a bottle of water as his men settled into the adjoining suite. Cpl Ime and Provost Boipelo sat at the island in the suite kitchenette.
Ime continued to brush up on the CCD's corporate laws and legislation's, while the Provost familiarized himself with the more day-to-day laws and firearms regulations.
Another sip of water, and he frowned slightly to see crowds gathered so far below. In the distance he could see the highways and train tracks, all packed with pilgrims flocking to the holy site. A sea of tents that had a strange sense of permanency about them had gathered on the outskirts of the Grand Mosque, and corrals of horses, goats, and camels could be seen even from where he stood. "Provost. Heading to the roof. I need to see the big picture here."
The two men glanced over at Jacques, but he waved them off to resume their own tasks. The building's security was tight enough that he wasn't concerned with wandering the halls without an escort.
A short time later, Jacques let himself onto the roof of the hotel, twirling a key-ring and access card he had temporarily purchased from one of the building's staff around his finger. He still wore his suit jacket, although it hung open since he was out of the public eye, and a pair of sunglasses were plucked from the pocket to shield his eyes from the bright sun above.
The roof was much as he expected; gravel, various exhausts and air vents, and of course a helipad for the especially rich that could pay the fees to allow a helicopter so close to the Grand Mosque. He was neither so rich nor so disrespectful to have bothered with something like that.
He stood a moment to adjust to the sudden blast of heat and light as the door fell shut behind him, and casually scanned the perimeter of the building's roof. Or at least what he could see from where he stood. Quiet and isolated, just as he had hoped. Two steps from the door and his field of view shifted as he passed one of the air vents, and he paused again. Not so alone, apparently.
A woman. Caucasian, and decidedly out of dress for the neck of the woods she was in. What would the pilgrims so far below have thought should they see her? Hell, what did the building's staff think behind those professional airs they put on? He shook his head then started towards her, making a point of being heard; the crunch of gravel under foot would surely tip her off to his approach, even over the wind so high up.
Of course, approaching from behind, he couldn't exactly complain about her choice of attire. Short jacket, AND tight jeans? An excellent combination in any other part of the world. Maybe one of the reporters? No...they were too image oriented not to at least through a headwrap on. And with her choice of imagers which she used to survey the crowd below and what lay beyond, she was surely not some simple reporter. The way she held herself was off. Some added layer of security, perhaps? She had an air similar to the woman Michael had sent to pluck him from the good Doctor Weston.
He stepped up to the rail that lined the building's edge a few feet to her left, and rested a hand on the rail and another on the arm of his glasses as he peered down the building's face to the road below. "Afternoon, young lady. An interesting view, isn't it? So many, travelling so far, to look at...what, I wonder? Can you believe that not so many years ago, folks like us would never be allowed to stand where we are now?"