CHAPTER 6


His thighs burned, but with each step, he gained energy. Despite being HIV-positive, Jake felt invincible. He wondered if he were in love with Olivia.

The twisting dirt path took him by an elderly couple resting against a rock outcropping.

Bonjour,” he said.

“Good morning, young man. It’s a wonderful morning for a climb,” the old man said in the sunny French of the country’s southern provincial region.

“You must have started at dawn,” Jake said.

“We’ve done this every Sunday at daybreak for forty years, weather permitting. From up here I can see all my land and my sheep. Doing this keeps us young.”

“I think it’s worked,” Jake said.

He bid the couple farewell and kept climbing toward the summit of Mont Saint Victoire, the peak glorified by Cézanne.

At a turn, a chapel came into view. Jake crossed the doorstep and smelled the damp oak. Except for a statue of Christ and a few rows of pews, the chapel was bare.

In the grassy yard outside the chapel, a well attracted his attention. He moved to it and peered between the bricks. Dirt covered the dried up hole.

He glanced at a natural rock wall and moved to a gap that yielded a view of distant valleys. Although he knew a sheer cliff awaited, he could not resist dangling his toes over the edge and looking down. Danger enticed him.

An updraft from the valley blew the scent of lilac across his face. He inhaled and turned back to the yard. The older man who had trailed Olivia through the streets of Avignon had exchanged his Armani blazer for hiking boots, jeans, and a flannel Abercrombie & Fitch shirt.

“Good to see you, Henri,” Jake said in French.

Henri ran a wand over Jake’s clothes.

“Checking for bugs,” Henri said. “Pierre’s orders. He’s inside with the others.”

“Others? How many?”

“See for yourself. Come on in.”

Jake entered the room that would have passed for a misplaced barn had the wooden tables and chairs been bales of hay. Six men sat at a table eating croissants with Brie and Camembert while sipping coffee from tin cups.

Upon Jake’s entry, the conversation died. Six faces looked at Jake, and he recognized all but two.

“What the hell’s going on?” he asked. “A submarine sailor reunion?”

“And now all of our guests have arrived,” Renard said.

Wearing garb similar to that of Henri, Renard stood.

“Shit, Pierre,” Jake said, “you and Henri could pass for twins.”

“My dear man,” Renard said. “Henri’s ego is big enough. Don’t suggest that he’s more handsome than he already thinks he is.”

Jake and Renard exchanged kisses at each other’s cheeks.

“What’s going on?” Jake asked. “Why the party?”

“I’ll explain after breakfast,” Renard said.

A stranger’s hand emptied a thermos into a cup. Jake thanked the man and sipped back coffee.

“Jake, that is Claude LaFontaine,” Renard said. “He was the engineer officer when I was the executive officer on the Rubis. He’s just retired.”

Jake shook LaFontaine’s hand.

“And this is Antoine Remy,” Renard said. “He was my best sonar operator when I commanded the Améthyste. I believe you know the rest.”

Jake greeted the sonar operator and sat. The conversations remained lighthearted and centered around memories of the French submarine force. When the plates were empty, Renard stood.

“Gentlemen, please,” he said.

As if rehearsed, the men left Renard alone with Jake.

“This is our place to talk in private,” Jake said. “I was hoping you called me up here to discuss how I could transfer Marie and Jacques from Taiwan to our hideaway while you were busy shaking down your Agosta. I didn’t expect your mercenary crew.”

“Marie and Jacques will stay where they are,” Renard said. “Their best protection is to follow Li’s agenda.”

“Then why’d you summon me here?” Jake asked.

“I need you for my mission,” Renard said.

“No way. I’m not setting foot on another submarine.”

“My debt to Taiwan is also yours.”

Jake jammed his finger into Renard’s sternum. The Frenchman coughed.

“You came to me,” Jake said. “You brought the whole Colorado thing together.”

“You would prefer that I rewind time and leave you with your career as an American naval officer in shambles and your navy’s betrayal gnawing at your soul? I rescued you in exchange for helping me sell warheads to Taiwan. We failed, and you share the burden of that failure.”

“Things change,” Jake said. “I’ve got a life now.”

“I’m starting to sense that,” Renard said.

“Is that why you had Henri following me?”

Renard lit a Marlboro.

“I was candid that I had men following you during the first months after the Colorado. This is nothing new.”

“I thought you had stopped,” Jake said.

“I did, for a time, but I started again. I never should have stopped, actually. The more people you meet, the greater the danger. You may have a surgically altered nose, but someone from your past could recognize you. Too many Americans are starting to tour the south of France.”

“I don’t like being followed without knowing it.”

“Now you know,” Renard said. “I’ll have someone watching you as often as I can spare.”

“Why not always? Henri could help wipe my ass.”

“I only use those who know of our past to watch over you, and most of them are graduates of the French submarine fleet. They are not surveillance experts. You need to protect yourself, and I fear you’ve forgotten to be wary of new people.”

“So I can’t get close to anyone?”

“No, indeed you may not. Not in our present situation. You would risk ruining us all. You can trust no newcomers with our secrets.”

The elderly couple that Jake had passed during his ascent strolled into the room. Jake smiled and waved.

“Switch to English,” Renard said. “Keep your voice low in case they understand. I’m concerned about people you meet, such as the young American lady.”

“Olivia,” Jake said. “We’ve been on a few dates.”

“Who is she?” Renard asked.

Jake wanted to tell him it was none of his business but knew he couldn’t. Renard was making it clear that everything was his business.

“Just an unemployed psychology PhD. She’s taking courses at the university to learn how to draw, and she parked herself in Avignon to make some sketches of gothic architecture. Cool way to pass the time if you ask me.”

“A perfect life, indeed,” Renard said. “Too perfect.”

“She’s had some hard times.”

“I sacrificed many of my intelligence channels when we stole the Colorado, but I still have a few. None of them, however, could produce a shred of data about her after she earned her PhD from Yale University three years ago.”

“I don’t like you looking over my shoulder.”

“It is for your protection.”

“You sure you’ve got the right Olivia McDonald?”

“Certain. Henri may be a hopeless romantic who telephones you to help you meet a new lady he’s supposed to be surveying, but he’s competent enough to capture a digital image of her face.”

“You can’t find anything on her after 2005?”

“Nothing,” Renard said.

“So what does that mean?” Jake asked.

“It could mean nothing,” Renard said. “The entire world is no longer at my fingertips, but I am concerned.”

“I’m not blowing her off because you’re concerned.”

Renard stamped out his cigarette and withdrew a gold plated Zippo lighter. His thumb whipped across a gear. A spark jumped, and flame danced across the tip of a Marlboro.

“How well does she know you?” Renard asked.

“She believes my cover,” Jake said. “Everyone believes my cover. Shit, Pierre, it’s not that hard to swallow. I tell everyone my rich father died and left me millions and that I got HIV from a cheating girlfriend.”

“The cover is workable, but my concern is the better people know you, the harder it is for you to separate your real history from the lies.”

“I’m not going to hide in an ivory tower.”

“Nor should you,” Renard said. “But have you considered hiding in a Taiwanese Agosta class submarine?”

“I’m not going with you.”

“Then this is it,” Renard said. “After today, I return to hiding, and I’m not sure when I will see you again.”

Henri’s head popped through the doorframe again.

“Come in,” Renard said. “Bring the others.”

“I’m serious,” Jake said. “You’re on your own.”

The five French submarine fleet veterans entered the room. The elderly couple waved and departed.

“At least stay and help us plan, Jake. When you hear what I’m up to, you’ll know why I need your input, and you may change your mind about joining us.”

“Sure,” Jake said and sat. “I’m not going to join you, but I’m sure you dumb asses need an American’s input on your anti-China submarine tactics so you don’t get yourselves killed.”