• Vexation
    "Why am I here, you ask?" asked a pale man silouhetted against the light in a small office in France. "Well, I went to the French Intelligence yesterday and asked if they could help me. This almost bald French man looked at me and said:

    'Vex Vyer? This conman your speak of is...not in our database. Are you sure he is a Frenchman? Even the name does not at all sound French.'

    "I only smiled and corrected him." the man sat up straight. "Yes. Her name does not at all sound French. If you ask me, it's a queer name that does not sound French, English, Italian or even German. It's ridiculously unique! But what an intriguing name it is. It's almost as though someone made up the name especially for her.

    'Yes, yes. She seems like an intriguing character' He paused for a while. 'But if she is not a French citizen, we cannot help you.' With that, they sent me on my way! Can you believe it? I don't know what he lost more: His hair or his mind."

    His female companion resonded with a light and airy voice with a little bit of her French accent. "He was only exhausted. You must have made him speak so much English! Be careful. It makes Frenchmen disagreeable at times."
    The man chuckled. Then, he leaned over and said directly: "Let's cut the crap. Do you have information about her or not?"

    The middle-aged woman fixed her glasses as they were about to fall. She laughed inaudibly. "I do. I do."

    She got up from her desk and went over to the bookshelves on the far side of the small office. She walked gracefully with firm resolution to her steps. She asked:

    "How much did she steal again?"

    The man answered without hesitation.

    "seven hundred million Euros"

    The man kept still, like an ebony statue illuminated by the light coming from the partially open window. The mysterious figure wore a black buckleather coat tapered at the neck and held fast with six buttons to the side. He wore slacks and a pershing cap that hid part of his face in the shadow. In fact, he wore black from head to toe but his garments were nonetheless fine. He looked up at his companion now, expecting a response.

    The brunette lady had lifted her hand to grope the bookshelf for something in particular. She hesitated in her moment when she heard the amount and held her hand suspended in the air while she contemplated. She turned around now, spinning on her three inch heels, and held a steady gaze on the man that lay comfortably on the chair.

    “Seven hundred million Euros?” She gasped. “By God! That’s more than I can make selling fourteen or fifteen of my best students!”

    “Indeed. Now, will you hand it to me?”

    The lady resumed groping the bookcase until she found what she was looking for. She took a dusty brown book and dusted it with her hands, the fingernails painted red. She walked back over to the other side of the room now and handed it to her companion.
    With an observant eye, he commented:

    “Claire, you’re nearing forty but you’re still wearing those skimpy outfits, miniskirts and all. The only thing that’s changed is that you tie your hair in a messy bun now.”

    Her hair wrapped around itself, held fast with pins. Two locks of flowing brown hair were held loose on either side of her face. They looked messy because of the waviness of her hair. Nonetheless, to any other onlooker, it was sexy.

    Claire raised her glasses now and said “At least I’ve been careful with my money!” She looked away and glanced at him twice before she spoke again. “That’s Vex’s journal. She wrote it before she left. You have what you want. Now go!” She had tears standing in her eyes.

    “It’s been five years, hasn’t it?”

    “Yes. Five miserable years!”

    “Good day, Claire.”

    “Good day!” she started to calm down but as the man left, she stomped her foot in anger and started wiping her glasses already fogged by tears.