1.

MONFLANQUIN, FRANCE,
September 2008

CARTE BLANCHE TO MONFLANQUIN.

I still did not know about Barbara. My heart told me to believe everything she said. My head told me I had to watch out, because she didn’t need me; if Josh David Powell could employ a woman to stay married to me, the Gregorys could certainly insert a woman into my office. I was clearly susceptible. The cost of doing something like that meant nothing to these people. Years meant nothing. I certainly meant nothing, except as a tool. A pawn.

A denizen of the fourth circle.

Get out of town, George. Go to France.

I didn’t go for any of the reasons she gave me. I went because I had Mitch’s $100,000 to spend. And because I had the time to do it. That is what I told myself.