The Liar
Chapter Fourteen

The airport was like most airports. Crowded, dirty in the way that most public spaces are, and smelling overwhelmingly of anxiety. It reminded the man walking towards the baggage pickup of an ant farm, in that there were a lot of bodies frantically rushing about. The difference between the two being, of course, that ants knew what they were doing. He kept the smirk off his face.

The man’s immaculate leather shoes picked their way across the terminal and then he stood perfectly straight, staring at the baggage going past. Had anyone bothered to look at him, they would have thought that he was hung from a wire attached to the top of his head—and his spine was a steel rod. He grabbed his suitcase when it came, and then turned on his heel and walked towards the exit. There was a man waiting with a sign that said “Mors” on it.

“Hey, you’re Mr. Mors, right?” the man shouted at him while he approached. He’d been given a description of the guy, and this elegant, slender guy in a suit matched it perfectly.

“It’s Dr. Mors. You’re the driver?” Dr. Mors’ English was beautifully crisp, and didn’t suffer under a slight German accent.

“That’s right, doctor.”

“Good. I’ll need you for maybe an hour.”

“Where would you like to go, Dr. Mors? You didn’t say, earlier. Need someone to drive you around the city?”

“No. I need you to drive me to the nearest car dealership—but not some junkyard.”

“Yes, Dr. Mors. Right this way.” The driver was as respectful as he’d ever been in his entire life. He had a sudden feeling that the icy doctor was not someone to be overly familiar with.

They drove in silence until Dr. Mors got out of the car at the dealership. “Thank you,” he said politely. “That will be all. You’ve already been paid, I believe?” He didn’t wait for the answer. “Have a nice day.”

And then he walked off to inspect the cars, suitcase in hand. The driver didn’t stick around, but Dr. Mors hardly noticed as he saw a sleek little car and decided to buy it. He didn’t really care if it worked that well or even how much it cost. He’d been saving for quite a while.


* * *

“Emilien Mors, is it…?” The woman sitting across the desk from him looked up from a folder on her desk. It probably had the names of other applicants for the position.

“That is correct.” He crossed his legs casually.

“And you graduated from the University of Heidelberg in Germany, Dr. Mors?”

“Yes,” he replied with no hint of an accent, leaning back in his chair. He was careful not to straighten his suit, not to appear nervous. It didn’t take much effort. Anxiety was something that happened to other people. “That is where I received my medical doctorate in pathology, and then I did my residency in Berlin. I’ve wanted to live in America for a while, and I thought I might spend some time working as a medical examiner in this country.”

“Well, you certainly have excellent qualifications and glowing recommendations from your residency.” She seemed genuinely impressed. The city was not particularly large, so he did not imagine that there were many applicants at all, let alone ones with his resume. “I think, Dr. Mors, that you are going to be running our morgue from now on.”

“Excellent to hear, Dr. Cole. I’m sure I will enjoy working here very much.” He smiled prettily, and reached across the desk to shake her hand. She took it warmly and smiled back.

“Can you start tomorrow? I know it’s a Friday, but we’ve got scheduling to work out, and you need to get acquainted with the facilities as soon as possible anyway. And you know people. Can’t seem to stop dying.”

“Of course.” Standing up, he brushed blonde hair back off his forehead. “I will see you tomorrow, then?”

“Eight sharp.”

“I shall look forward to it.” He smiled again and took his leave with a polite bow.

* * *

He smiled faintly at her in order to acknowledge that she had just introduced herself, but beyond that did not make any overt gestures to show that he had been paying attention. He either didn’t bother to learn names, like many doctors when it came to nurses, or he never, ever forgot them. She would bet that Dr. Mors—reserved and obviously intense—was in the latter camp.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I have to be going now. My first day is over and there’s somewhere I need to be.” He didn’t say where, and she could tell he wasn’t going to. Bowing slightly, he walked off decisively, leaving the nurse to stare after him, wondering who bowed these days. She wrote it off as a European eccentricity.

Dr. Mors walked out to his car, but he paused a moment before getting into it to sigh regretfully. He supposed he could still fly, but he would feel ridiculous doing to in the city. In a suit. He enjoyed suits, but occasionally he missed the “barbarian” days when he could wear clothing that would easily accommodate wings and not be conspicuous. Oh well. Once situated in the car, he drove out of the hospital parking lot.

His lips compressed in frustration as he navigated the city. He could feel what he was looking for, but he couldn’t seem to find where it was, exactly. He wasn’t used to driving, either, although he did so quite competently.

“Fallere,” he muttered to himself, “where are you.”

It had been a long time since he had last seen his old friend. Fallere had been favoring North America in more recent years, whereas Dr. Mors had remained in Europe. It had been too long since their last meeting, really.

Perhaps he should put it off a little longer. Fallere was immeasurably quick. It might do him well to find out what his friend had been up to before making any appearances. Something weird, the doctor knew. Something stupid. Pointless. Insane. Fallere was always the same. Go here, cause needless trouble. Go there, repeat.

Well, he’d see about that.