It had been some time since Luc Lefevre had been to the Cafe d’Observateur. A week - maybe two - and he was desperately in need of some good coffee. What they had nearby for the officers was only coffee in name and did nothing to resemble the smooth aromatic blend that the Cafe was known for.
On his way through the doors he was abruptly pushed aside by SBg. Brun, dragging a woman behind him who looked as if she’d been to hell and back. Looking through the doorway, what he saw was another Royal Police officer - wasn't his name Delacroix? - standing, twirling a credit chip between his fingers, and merely watching as Brun dragged the woman out.
Things are not always as they seem…
Lefevre cautiously walked through the entrance and across the cafe as its patrons either got up and left or returned to their previous conversations. The majority of those leaving looked quite shaken at what had recently transpired. Lefevre made a note to himself to bring up cafe etiquette at the next briefing. The frequency at which these sorts of encounters occurred within the walls of an otherwise peaceful bistro was becoming intolerable.
Over the past couple weeks, though, Lefevre hadn’t done more than hear these stories. There was a reason he’d been promoted twice in that time, and it wasn’t because he was slacking off. Non, the most recent one was most likely due to the capture of the Sirian and the potential information he could give. Lucas Gerald and Lefevre both had been on the patrol that night the Sirian had wandered into Royalist space. He was posing as a bumbling trader, with a large cargo ship completing the image. Small slips here and there during questioning had tipped the interrogators - including Lefevre and Gerald, who had been assigned to stay on after the capture – to realize that this man knew more than he let on. A Lieutenant was currently in charge of the investigation, but there had been stirrings that it would be transferred up to one of the Commissaires.
Lefevre grabbed his mug and thanked the attendant. He paced over to a booth against one of the walls and sipped musingly on the day’s brew. Gerald was going to be there shortly.
