Terror On Tour Chapter 8

Terror On Tour

Chapter 8

Remy turned to us. Is this one of your jokings? He said with a scowl. Where is he going without us?

Corey looked at me as I pulled out my cell phone. I had spoken to DC Mendon that morning who had given me a contact name with the Paris authorities, Agent de police, Anton Metier and had given me his number, which I dialed now. As Metier answered the phone, out of the corner of my eye I saw the taxi stop at the end of the road, a police officer seeming to detain it.

Oui? a voice said on the line.

Excusez moi, M. Metier. Je m’appelle Justin Macdonald. Parlez vous anglais? I motioned for Van and Corey to go after the taxi and see why he had stopped. Van nodded and moved off with Corey in tow.

Yes, Metier said. Monsieur Macdonald. I have heard from my friend Clive Mendon with the London police. He has told me your story. I have taken the liberty to have the airport security be on the lookout for this Seth Teller. He is having a green mohawk so he should not be too hard to find if he is there.

He is here and I think he has just been found. I related how he had taken off in our taxi and was now being detained by the authorities.

Very well. I will look forward to talking to this hoodlum. He caused quite a bit of chaos back in London from what I have heard from Mendon.

Yes, I remarked. Thank you so much for your help. I bade goodbye and hung up, moving off to see if Teller had been captured.

Just as Van and Corey approached him, Seth gave a wallop to the policeman who then fell to his knees, stunned by the sudden attack. Seth spotted Van and Corey, then me, approach, then took off into the parking lot in the opposite direction.

Van and Corey took off in pursuit while I stopped to see if the officer was alright. I introduced myself and mentioned that I had just spoken to Metier. The young officer nodded as he rubbed his jaw where Teller had whacked him.

He has gotten away, the young officer muttered pulling out his radio and making a report. My friends are after him, I said. They’ll catch him, I’m sure.

But Corey and Van came back empty handed. He was picked up, Van reported. Some guy with a snake tattoo on his shaved head, he added, shaking his head. Was that the guy who whacked you back in London?

No, that was my friend Billy Bob. The snake tattoo guy is Chris Tauton Reeves, I remarked. Equally as dangerous.

We reported to the young officer what had happened, and he took down our report, thankfully he could understand most of what I said, with me only having to use a little bit of my high school French.

We soon returned to Remy who was looked not the least bit annoyed. He softened a bit when we told him that the taxi had been stopped and we could be on our way as soon as a driver could be found to bring the taxi back.

I managed to find the original driver, Remy said with a sniff. He is talking to the police in the security office. Seems he was forced from his taxi by a man with a gun. What is this? A movie shoot or something. I’ve never seen so many guns and stolen taxis in one day. Are you guys always leading this exciting life?

We try to, Dylan quipped. He still looked a little pale from his poisoning ordeal, but he would be playing in the concert tomorrow night. I only hoped that Seth and his goons wouldn’t strike again. They figured they would steal our equipment here in Paris, and that plot failed. But they would try again, I was sure of that.

We drove into the city of Paris, heading south west on the A1 AutoRoute. I was struck by how much graffiti adorned the walls along the highway. The sun was bright with no sign of the clouds that we had that morning in London.

We arrived at our hotel in downtown Paris around 1pm. Our hotel, the Auberge, was on Rue Malandra, about a block from the Odeon Theatre, a performing arts theatre where the band would be performing the following night. It was a swanky place like the theatre in London.

The streets were narrow and filled with cars going in every direction. All around us were older buildings, many of them centuries old. It was like stepping back in time.

The taxi was parked out in front of the hotel and bell hops came to take our luggage. The record company had provided a set of instruments and equipment for the concert at the Odeon but the band had their own instruments that they would keep at the hotel to practice. Van elected to ride along to the theatre and make sure the record company’s equipment was stowed away properly.

I’ll walk back to the hotel once I’m done, seeing as it’s only a few blocks, he remarked. Uh, unpack my clothes and put them away, will you, Justin? He added with a grin and drove off in the taxi before I could make a comment.

We found our rooms and luckily there were no cancellations. Seth wouldn’t try the same stunt twice, he was smarter than I realized. It just bugged me that I had no idea why he was doing these things. It made no sense.

I was also getting increasingly nervous as I continued to unpack (my) clothes. Seth warned he would do something in Paris. We were here now and he already tried something—and failed. He would be more annoyed than ever. He wanted us to be without our belongings and equipment—certainly he wanted us to not be able to play the concert tomorrow night.

He had attempted to thwart us at every turn and we managed to foil him at every turn. He tried to cancel our flight, then our hotel reservations. He kidnapped Nate and Sam back in Port Salser. Then in London, he tried to poison Dylan and Corey but Dylan had made a full recovery and the band was still able to play in London on schedule, though the record company was now on edge according to Darius, and would not put up with any more stunts. He had admitted to Ben that he had hurt Henry in the basement of the hotel. Why? Did Henry discover something or was he just in the wrong place at the wrong time?

And why was Seth so bent on having the band fail? It made no sense. I must be missing something. But what?

I finished unpacking and checked the clock. It was now 2 pm and Van should be back soon. We would have an early dinner as the band had a radio interview at 6 pm. Then they would head over to the theatre and practise until the wee hours of the morning, return to the hotel to grab some sleep then be full tilt tomorrow with the concert at 7 pm.

I pulled out my laptop and did some more research while I waited for Van. Renny had accompanied us to Paris and would fill in on drums until Nate met up with us in Berlin on Monday. Charlie tagged along and would be playing bass for the band.

I pulled a special key from the pocket of my cargo shorts and slipped it into the USB port on the laptop. There was a highly sensitive website that I was going to access and this small key would first allow me to access it as well as hide any trail on the server for the Wi-Fi connection that I was currently using from the  hotel. Dad had given me this key a while back and I was only to use it when all other avenues of research had failed. No one was to know that I had this key, only me and Dad.

I accessed the site and put in my password and did some checking on Seth Teller. The database attached to the site access all the databases in the world as well as the CIA and CSIS.

There were 6 Seth Tellers on the list and I narrowed it down to the young man in his twenties.

I was in for a bit of a surprise as the Seth Teller listed was indeed our man, but he did not have a mohawk, nor was his hair green. It showed the photo of a clean cut young man and that he was a student at U of T, majoring in music. No surprise there.  He had dropped out a few years ago when his band started get popular and he decided to give it a go. His band the X-Communicators was based in Toronto, though Seth was originally from Port Salser.

I personally had never heard of the X-Communicators. So either they took off somewhere else, or they never took off at all.

On a hunch I cross referenced Billy Bob Morrow and Chris Taunton-Reeves and came across something interesting.

Chris had been in a band with Dylan Price before Dylan joined ComfortZone. While Chris was living in Canada.

Why hadn’t Dylan mentioned this? I remember saying his name in front of the band. How many Chris Taunton-Reeves would there be? Unless he hadn’t been using his full name. I decided to confront Dylan and see what he said.

I logged off the website and shut down my laptop and stowed it away in the closet and then locked the closet.

I found the band in their room next door talking about the tour and looking at a magazine. Hey, Justin, Corey said when he noticed me. Come have a look at these. See which one suits me.

Which one—what? Hairstyles? I said coming closer and seeing that they were looking at a magazine of tattoos. The band was thinking of getting one together, he said with a grin. It was Renny’s idea. He says they don’t hurt a bit.

I glanced over at Renny who was grinning from ear to ear. Sure, Renny, I said, eyeing his sleeve tattoos on both arms. I’m sure those ones you got didn’t hurt a bit when you got them done.

He just looked at me, grinned and nodded.

So which one? Corey asked again, showing me the page. It showed a collection of birds in different species and colours.

I like the eagle with his wings spread, Corey said. Do you like it?

Sure, I said. Are you sure you want to get one? I mean, they’re permanent you know?

I know, Corey said. Yes, I do. I want to eventually get a sleeve done like Renny.

Really? I said, eyebrow raised. Renny just shrugged. Kid can do what he likes, he said.

I would just stick to the eagle right now. See how you like it. I might even get one myself.

You!? Teresa snickered. Mr. Straight and Narrow? I’d like to see that.

I’m not straight and narrow. You don’t know me very well if you think that, I said offended. Did I really look that dorky?

OK, then Teresa said putting up her hands in mock surrender. I’m only joking with you. Justin. You’re not nerdy—not at all.  You’re part of the band. We get one—here in Paris, you get one too. Van wants to be part of the band he gets one too. Agreed?

Agreed.

Say, Dylan, can I have a quick word with you—in private, I said.  We’ll let these guys talk about tattoos.

Sure, Justin, Dylan said with a worried expression on his face. What’s up?

Do you know a Chris Taunton-Reeves from back home. Tattoo of a serpent on his shaved head.

Dylan gulped then lowered his eyes. Yes, he said finally. But I didn’t know he was mixed up with Seth Teller. Really I didn’t or I would have said something earlier.

You were in a band with Chris, then?

Yeah, Dylan said. It didn’t go anywhere and we broke up after only a few months. Teresa was in the band as well, but only a few weeks then she left first. I left a while later. That was how we knew each other when we hooked up again for ComfortZone.

OK, I said. We know Chris is involved in this and it might have something to do with your connection when you were part of the same band. I haven’t been able to discover why yet. Come on, let’s get back to the others.

Corey was saying something about Van when we got back to the others and if he wanted to get a tattoo.

By the way, where is Van, he should be back soon, Corey said looking at his watch. I wanted to go out tonight and get these done. There’s a tattoo place a few blocks away. I googled it. Once Van gets back and we have dinner and have the interview at 5 pm.

It was now past 3 and no sign of Van. I was getting worried. I pulled out my cell phone and called the theatre to see if the band’s equipment had arrived OK. It had, a few hours ago.

Was there a young American guy, dark hair that had brought the equipment in the taxi and was he still there? I asked the young woman who had answered the phone.

Oh, oui, M. Gilman was here, the young woman said. I was talking with him for a while, then he left, she giggled. He was tres charmant.

That’s M. Gilman, he is tres charmant all right, I said shaking my head. How long ago did he leave, Mademoiselle?

Je m’appelle Alyce, the girl remarked. Oh it was two hours ago now, he wasn’t here long. He unloaded the equipment then we spoke for about half an hour then he had to go to meet his friend but that he would be back to see me later. Are you the friend?

Oui, I said, getting worried. He has not returned to the hotel, I said. We’ll try to find him.

Oh he was not returning to the hotel. He said his friend—you, were meeting him at la Tour Eiffel—the Eiffel Tower.

What? I blurted. He got a call when he was talking to you?

Oui, certainement, Alyce remarked. He said his friend Justin was meeting him at the Eiffel Tower at 17 heures.