Noir (Tom Holland)

Five

    Harrison turned into the "home base" and pulled into a garage that had more floors underground. There had to be at least over 200 black Sedans all parked, waiting to be driven. Harrison drove to the bottom floor and parked. He left the car and opened my door for me, helping me out. I thanked him quietly as he lead me to a staircase nearby. I followed him down for what seemed like ever. "Jesus, how far underground is this place?" I muttered as we reached the bottom. "As far as Tom needs it to be. He has an international organization to run, Reese, it requires a lot of space," he said as he opened a door and led me to what seemed like a different place altogether. There were miniature chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, illuminating the navy blue walls that seemed fitting for the dark. Men in suits that were similar to Harrison's roamed around, eyeing me as they walked past, but said nothing.

    "Go into the room at the end on your left," Harrison said, "I have some work to do, so unfortunately we shall be separated." I put my hands over my heart and pretended be heartbroken, "You really hurt my feelings, knowing I'll be without your presence." Harrison cracked a smile before lifting his jacket to show off the gun again. I reciprocated the grin, "At least I know when we hug, you're not excited to see me." I turned around and followed the directions he gave me.

    The door to the room was closed and I was debating on knocking or just walking in when it opened and the man from the night previous answered. "Tom ask for you?" he asked and I nodded. He murmured something that I didn't comprehend before opening the door all the way, revealing Tom sat behind a desk, focused on papers. I walked in and took notice of his attire. He didn't have a jacket on like the others, but he did have a dress shirt on that matched the color of the walls and it was rolled up to his elbows, giving me an excellent view of his forearms. A cigar hung loosely from his lips, puffing smoke every few seconds and he had a gun holster strapped onto his shoulders.

    "I don't have preference on whether you sit or stand, but if you keep staring at me the way you are, I'm going to have to ask Jacob here to leave and keep watch," he looked up from the papers and took the cigar from his mouth and blew the smoke at my face. "Boyish, but I like the effort," I commented before I sat down, crossing my legs as I did so, "Now what is so important that you had to take me from my class?"

    "That's not the correct question to ask, Reese," he said, taking another puff from his cigar, "The right question to ask is what is so unimportant that I allowed you to delay your arrival in order to have some time with your class?" "Doesn't matter how you ask it if it leads you to the same answer," I quipped back. Tom said nothing at first, he leant back in his chair and focused on his cigar. I was beginning to grow sick of the smell, but it wasn't my place to complain about the odor.

    "You did a good job with the scene, might I say," he broke the silence and focused on the papers again, grabbing a pen and jotting words down on dotted lines. I nodded and kept up my awkward silence. Tom started digging in his paper pile before finding a photo and handing it to me. "This is a bar in a city about an hour from here. The owner owes me money, but he's holding back because of taxes. You, Harrison, and Jacob here are going to get me the money," he explained as I examined the photo. The owner was behind the bar, wearing a purple and white striped apron, cleaning the inside of a glass with a rag. He was an old man, no younger than seventy, with a contagious smile plastered on his face.
    "You're seriously not suggesting robbery, right?" I asked whilst nervously laughing. Tom mimicked me and leant forward. "Of course I'm not suggesting robbery," he said, "I'm demanding it." "What if we get caught?" I was starting to ramble, he seriously couldn't put me up to this job, "What happens to me then? Are you kidding me? I can't do this!" "You can and you will do it," Tom said harshly, "If you don't or you decide to run, you'll be facing worse punishment than witnessing some murder on the streets. Get out of here and bring me my money." Jacob tapped my shoulder and helped me up. The two of us left the office and were greeted by Harrison, who held ski masks in his hands. "At least you can see in this black bag," he said as he handed me a mask.