Oliver Baldwin
London Shadow dans la Nuit .
Oliver Baldwin: London Shadow dans la Nuit .
Written by Eric J Baldion.
Table of Contents
Volume 1
Chapter 1 — Rumor in the Shadows
Chapter 2 — Formation
Chapter 2 — Formation
Oliver stands before the man tied to the chair, staring at him intently. He begins to walk slowly, circling Remus. Each step echoes through the corners of the filthy room, and the creaking of the old wooden floor gradually irritates Remus, who glances sideways at Oliver as desperation creeps in.
- Remus: What the hell do you want? Money? There's some in my wallet—take it. You'll be a dead man soon anyway.
- Oliver: Heh, you really think I'm a dead man? You're an idiot. Think for a second, friend. Why would I let your buddy go? Why haven't I killed you yet? Why send your friend to the hospital? Think.
At that moment, Remus's face twists in confusion, but nothing he comes up with makes logical sense.
- Remus: I don't know why.
Oliver smiles confidently and sits down in the chair, locking eyes with Remus.
- Oliver: You already know who I am. That's why your whole organization is watching half of London. Well… the truth is, I want all of you to know I'm here. You probably saw me on the airport cameras, so you know I've arrived. I want confirmation. That's why your friend is safe in the hospital—so he can call your bosses.
- Remus: And why do you want London's criminal organizations to know your location?
- Oliver: You see, friend, I don't care if your bosses or the common gangs find out. If they do, it's just a means to an end. I'm not after the puppets—I want the puppeteer's head.
- Remus: Wait… what do you mean?
- Oliver: Organizations like yours are just puppets. The ones pulling the strings are the organization I'm hunting. That's why I'm moving from country to country, tracking their trail—the colossal organization that controls even the worst criminals.
- Remus: Wait, wait, wait… that's impossible.
- Oliver: Oh, but it's true.
He stands up, walks slowly toward Remus, and places a hand on his shoulder.
- Oliver: The organization I'm hunting is called DESVIA.
He smirks briefly, gives Remus two pats on the shoulder, and walks behind him. Remus, confused and sweating, tries to process everything Oliver just said.
He doesn't know what's behind him.
Oliver approaches a table behind Remus and picks up a large knife—the size of a butcher's blade. He returns to his chair, examining the dull reflection of himself in the steel.
- Oliver: You're probably wondering why you're still here. Well, to track DESVIA, I got information in Argentina linking your organization's higher-ups—the spy ring. That's why, when I realized you were watching me, I saw my chance to set my plan in motion. Now, the only loose end is you… because I don't need you. You're useless to me. Your friend in the hospital already set the gears turning. Your bosses will come after me, and that's how I'll hunt them down.
- Oliver: So, I'll give you one small chance to be useful. Tell me who your organization's leaders are. Give me information, or else… I'll have to kill you.
Remus, terrified, tries to think.
Is he telling the truth? If he wanted me dead, he would've shot me in the alley with a bullet through my skull. He must need my intel.
- Remus: Heh, I'm not telling you shit. Go to hell. He spits.
- Oliver: Inhales and exhales in disappointment. Fine. Then die.
He stands, approaches Remus with the knife, and in one swift motion, slashes his right wrist. Blood begins to pour.
Remus panics, cursing under his breath.
- Oliver: You'll bleed out in forty minutes. Good luck making a tourniquet. Hahaha.
- Remus: WAIT… shit… YOU FUCKING PSYCHO! Shit, shit, SHIT! WAIT—I'LL TELL YOU EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING ABOUT MY ORGANIZATION! JUST SAVE ME!
Oliver waits.
- Oliver: Good. Tell me something useful, and I'll make a tourniquet. Who knows? I might even save you with this. He pulls out a small box. This is a hemostatic agent. It'll buy you enough time to get to a hospital. So talk fast.
- Remus: OK, OK! My organization is led by a family—the Sebasttools. Our group is called NEKRO. NOW SAVE ME!
Oliver quickly applies the tourniquet and the hemostatic agent.
- Oliver: Now tell me everything.
- Remus: *Alright… what I know is that the family controls political assassinations and high-level espionage worldwide. They're loaded, and they have ties to SACRA, the German cyber-hacking group. The only way to get a job is to contact Lena—she assigns the missions. Her email's in my phone. To reach them, send a message to that email with my code, R3M098. They'll send you a location to meet Lena. That's all I know.*
- Oliver: Good. One last question—and I'm warning you, tell me the truth. He leans in with a predatory glare. Do you know someone called LetterJane?
- Remus: Trembling, stuttering from fear and blood loss. I-I'm sorry… I don't know who that is…
Due to blood loss, Remus passes out.
With his questions answered and some intel secured, Oliver calls out.
- Oliver: Tom! Get in here!
The door opens, revealing a towering man—nearly 2 meters tall—wearing a dark gray coat and a cap. His walk is imposing, his gaze cold and deep, reflecting hidden pain.
- Thomas Moreau: Yes. Do you want me to take him to the hospital?
- Oliver: Thanks, Tom. Handle it and come back ASAP. Cover your tracks.
- Thomas Moreau: Got it.
Thomas unties Remus and carries him out. As he reaches the door, Oliver stops him.
- Oliver: Oh, and Tom—bring back a bottle of liquor if you find one. Rum, if possible. We've got an important talk when you return. Now hurry before he dies.
Thomas leaves quickly, taking Remus to the hospital.
Oliver watches from the window, cigarette in hand, staring silently at the horizon. The distant sounds of machines and gambling addicts fill the air.
- Oliver: Exhales with resignation. Third floor of a casino. Best we could do.
Admiral Casino: Southwark, 206 Southwark Park Rd.
A small hideout on the third floor of the Admiral Casino.
Now that I think about it, it's a good place to stay under the radar. We don't need another Argentina situation.
Oliver's expression shifts to one of sadness and regret, haunted by a past he wishes he could forget—but knows he must remember.
A while later, Thomas returns.
- Oliver: Sit down, Tom. We need to set the plan in motion.
Thomas takes a seat at the table.
- Oliver: By the way, did you get the liquor?
- Thomas: Only managed this.
He pulls a small bottle of whiskey from his coat pocket.
- Oliver: Better than nothing.
- Oliver: Alright, news—I've secured our identities here.
- Thomas Moreau: Good. I've got a list of candidates. What's our cover this time? Journalists, like in El Salvador?
- Oliver: No… In El Salvador, it was hard to move freely. This time, we're leveling up.
He slides an envelope across the table.
Thomas opens it, revealing their IDs and a special badge.
- Oliver: This time, we're private detectives. I got us special permits to be recognized by the police as Private Detective-Consultants. This'll let us investigate cases while working our way closer to DESVIA.
- Thomas Moreau: And these papers? They say we're ex-NCA agents.
- Oliver: Yeah… To get approved, I had to add that, plus the forged nationalities and backgrounds. They required certain credentials to accept us as private investigators, so I faked our NCA (National Crime Agency) service records—five years' worth.
- Thomas Moreau: Smart. This'll give us more authority.
- Oliver: Exactly. It'll last until we finish the job here.
- Thomas Moreau: Did you use the Devora program to hack the government systems?
- Oliver: Yeah. Our identities are officially registered now.
- Oliver: Now, here's the plan.
.............
- Oliver: Those are the steps. Let's get started. Do you have the recruits?
- Thomas Moreau: Yes. I've narrowed it down to four final candidates. Read these.
Oliver reviews the files and picks two.
- Thomas Moreau: So these two, huh? The Ice Killer—a loner who murdered corrupt officials and rapists—and the hacker who took down mega-corporations.
- Oliver: Where are they now?
- Thomas Moreau: The hacker's in prison, serving an insane sentence. The Ice Killer's gone missing, but thanks to Devora, we know she was kidnapped by a small-time gang working for the businessman Rick Daemon.
- Oliver: Good. They're the last two we need. Did you find their weak points?
- Thomas Moreau: The hacker's easy. He fights corruption because it ruined him years ago—lost his home, was drowning in debt, and his wife left him for the businessman who destroyed him. His crimes are almost justified.
- Oliver: How so?
- Thomas Moreau: The five companies he hacked were tied to a corruption case involving corporate murders.
- Oliver: I see. If we tell him about DESVIA, he'll join for revenge or justice. What about the assassin?
- Thomas Moreau: She killed for her sister and mother. Her sister was raped, and her mother's buried in debt.
- Oliver: Mmm. I know how to convince her. Here's the plan: you handle the hacker; I'll take the assassin. This'll be fun. Let's move.
They leave the apartment. Outside the casino, their paths split—Thomas drives toward the prison, while Oliver, whistling, vanishes into the shadows of the alleyways, heading into the unknown.