Olivia studied her translucent image in a glass storefront. The French summer sun had started to tan her skin–a difficultly for a redhead from Connecticut.
She focused beyond her image into the store. Beside a carousel of men’s slacks, a shapely blonde woman stared back at her. The blonde removed an emerald ring from her right finger, slipped it over her left, and turned.
CIA Officer Rebecca Daman, I presume, Olivia thought as she stepped back from the window.
“I’m buying you a tie,” she said.
“I have enough ties,” Jake said.
“You’ve spent a lot of money on me, but you haven’t let me buy you anything.”
“Then buy me some chocolate. I’m hungry.”
Rebecca Daman appeared at the store entrance.
“Hello,” she said in French. “Do you desire anything?”
Olivia noticed a hint of a Long Island accent in her French but trusted Jake did not have the ear for it.
“No, thank you,” Jake said.
“Yes,” Olivia said. “Don’t you think he’d look fantastic in a blue Italian tie?”
“I think he looks fantastic already, but if you put him in a Villa Bolgheri, you’d have to fight off every woman in Provence.”
Rebecca smiled, tilted her head, and swept back her blonde hair. Jake started toward the store.
“I don’t suppose I’m getting out of this?” he asked.
“Not a chance,” Olivia said.
*
Olivia watched Jake flip a navy blue tie over the collar of his starched white shirt. She knew that Rebecca had chosen the tie because it was too dark. While the victim of her seduction assessed his image in a mirror, she slid out of his view.
“Third tie, right?” she asked.
“Yes,” Rebecca said, “Ready for the control unit?”
“Do it.”
Olivia opened her purse and presented it. She frowned as she felt Rebecca insert and withdraw her hand. Although it was Rebecca’s first assignment, the motion should have been indiscernible.
Followed by Rebecca, Olivia walked behind Jake.
“Hey handsome,” she said, “that doesn’t look right.”
“No, it’s too dark,” Rebecca said. “Try this one.”
Jake exchanged the dark tie for one of pale blue.
“I don’t like this one either,” Olivia said.
“Too pale,” Rebecca said. “Perhaps this one.”
Jake tried the third tie.
“Perfect,” Olivia said.
“The blue matches his eyes,” Rebecca said.
“I’ll take it,” Olivia said.
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Jake asked.
Olivia wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek.
“Nope. You’re wearing this to dinner.”
“That reminds me,” he said. “We need to hurry. It’s going to take us a few hours to get there.”
“Yeah, and I want to see Nice. Let’s buy this thing and get going.”
“Your pretty pushy for a new…”
She stepped in front of him.
“A new what?”
“Friend.”
“Okay, good,” she said. “I was afraid you were going to admit that you liked me.”
*
After a limousine ride to France’s southeast corner, Jake strolled through the streets of Nice. European wealth made him feel like he could spend his money liberally, and Nice’s gaudiness provided him a place to meet Renard without drawing attention.
His new tie around his collar, he grabbed Olivia’s hand. A lady wearing an apron and jeans stepped out of a candy store’s front and reached upward.
“Hurry,” he said. “The store’s closing.”
His grip slipping, he realized that the subject of his new infatuation didn’t share his zeal for chocolate.
“Go on,” Olivia said.
“Wait!” Jake said.
“Okay, take your time,” the lady in the apron said.
“Thanks,” Jake said. “I’m dying for a chocolate animal. What do you have?”
The lady stepped behind a glass display and pointed at pairs of chocolate-sculpted pigs and frogs nestled between éclairs and napoleons.
“The frogs, please,” Jake said.
He dropped euro into the lady’s hand, transformed his hand into a lily pad for his chocolate treats, and sauntered towards Olivia.
“Couldn’t you at least get them wrapped?” she asked.
“They’re not going to last long enough,” he said.
“Dinner’s in two hours.”
“Dear God, woman. Haven’t you seen me eat? You’re lucky I’m even thinking about giving you one.”
He rammed a frog head first into his mouth. Even after two years in France, he always enjoyed the sweet explosion of chocolate from French pastries.
“That frog died for a good cause,” he said.
“Close your mouth. You’re being American.”
“You want the other one?”
Olivia shook her head.
“You sure?”
He jammed the second head in his mouth.
“Well, maybe half.”
He shrugged his shoulders, grabbed hers, and pulled her to his mouth.
“Jake, this is gross.”
He nudged the frog’s butt into her nose. She blushed but bit into the frog. He inhaled his half of the chocolate amphibian and pressed his lips against hers.
She pulled back, covered her mouth, and chewed.
“It’s sad,” she said. “But I think that’s the most romantic kiss you’ve given me.”
He handed her a napkin. She cleaned her face and swallowed. He wrapped his arm around her waist, drew her in, and kissed her again.
She grabbed his ribs and embraced him, and he let himself become lost in her. She was the most amazing woman he had met in his life, and he didn’t want to let go.
*
As Pierre Renard came into view, the butterflies in Olivia’s stomach went hysterical.
She stood, exchanged a southern French cheek-to-cheek greeting kiss with Marie and Pierre, and sat back down. A waiter poured the house’s red wine into four glasses. Olivia tasted it and found it bitter.
“Ah,” Renard said in English. “Dry. Crisp. The vineyard that supplies this restaurant has been in the same family for eight generations.”
“I think it’s a bit too strong,” Marie said.
“Me, too,” Olivia said. “A bit bitter for me.”
“More for us,” Jake said.
Olivia rubbed Jake’s knee. He was wearing a two-tone gray and black dinner jacket over his white dress shirt. He had worn her blue tie, and that’s all she cared about.
“So,” Renard said, “English or French tonight?”
“I could still use the French practice,” Jake said.
“I was asking the lady,” Renard said. “Someday, I will turn you into a gentleman.”
“French is fine,” Olivia said.
“Where to begin?” Marie asked. “We’ve been dying to meet the new love of Jake’s life.”
“Love of his life?” Olivia asked.
“Of course,” Marie said. “We’ve known that boy long enough to know when he’s head over heels.”
Jake blushed, groaned, and put his head in his hand.
“You’re embarrassing the poor boy,” Renard said.
Olivia ran her hand across Jake’s back.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s fun to watch him squirm.”
“Maybe we should rescue him,” Renard said. “Tell me, then, what brings you to Avignon?”
Olivia recited the combination of truths and lies that she had internalized as her cover.
“The architecture. I’m supporting my new hobby with a few drawing courses, but it’s really just an excuse to keep traveling. I’m sure Jake told you that my father was a cop in Hartford and died in the line of duty. Between his insurance and pension, I’ve had some financial freedom.”
“That must have been devastating,” Renard said. “I lost family when I was young.”
“So you understand,” Olivia said. “It turned my whole life around. I had just earned my PhD in psychology and was going to be a criminal psychologist for the Hartford Police Department. When my father died, I needed time off to rethink things. I guess I’m still just rethinking.”
“And why not?” Marie asked. “Life is too short to do what one dislikes.”
The wireless phone in Renard’s breast pocket rang. He excused himself and walked under the incandescent lights of the cobblestone street. Olivia sensed an opportunity.
“What does he do?” she asked.
“He’s a broker,” Marie said. “Always arranging for someone to sell something to someone else, and the goods hardly seem to matter. I keep begging him to retire, but he seems addicted to his network of business associates.”
I’m not alone in telling rehearsed lies, Olivia thought.
“Sounds exciting,” she said.
Renard reappeared at the restaurant’s entryway and pointed at Jake, who excused himself.
Olivia reached into her purse and withdrew the compact mirror that the undercover sales associate had slipped her. She flipped it open, saw her reflection, and watched a tiny digital display inform her that the transceiver in her compact was linking to the microphone and transmitter woven into the silk threads of Jake’s tie.
The short-range, high-frequency signal from the compact engaged the antenna in Jake’s tie and commanded a transmitter to life.
She worked lipstick across her mouth as she studied the compact’s digital display. It stated that the compact had linked to the bug in Jake’s tie and was recording data.
Confident she was capturing the conversation between Jake and Renard, she slid the compact into her purse.
“With the only people dining at this table who possess doctorate degrees being ladies,” Marie said, “you’d think that they’d ask our opinion instead of storming off alone.”
“It has to do with testosterone,” Olivia said.
“I love them both dearly, but they are restless. I fear that Jake is like Pierre. The moment you think you’ve earned his undivided attention is precisely when he’ll decide that business is more important.”
Olivia sat in silence until Marie breached the subject of European politics. The latest scandal was suspected kickbacks from France Telecom to an officer of the European Union, and as an educated woman, Marie had plenty to say about it.
Jake and Renard returned and made no mention of their conversation other than that it had been business. Olivia passed the evening discussing world events but nothing more about Renard’s affairs. She trusted that her compact held insight into the secrets of his life.
*
After the return trip to Avignon, Olivia kissed Jake goodnight at her door and trotted to her laptop. She placed the compact next to it and waited for the wireless connection between the machines.
As the laptop wrote an encrypted file to its hard drive, she slipped on a headset.
Her cell phone rang. She stopped the file and pushed the headset behind her ear with the cell phone.
“McDonald,” she said.
“What did you get?”
She recognized the voice as Tommy, her midnight support. “Cousin Tommy” if questioned.
“If you’d leave me alone,” she said, “I’d tell you.”
“You’re supposed to transmit before listening.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m just tired.”
“Don’t go to sleep until we’ve both listened. If this is as big as we hope, I’ll have to wake Robert up.”
“I’ve been dying to listen to this for hours.”
“Transmit. Then listen.”
“Fine.
She hung up, transmitted, and put her headset on.
*
She heard the bustle of tourists trekking through the streets of Nice, but the recording produced a crystal-clear rendition of Jake and Renard’s hours-old conversation.
“What’s Marie doing here?” Jake asked.
“I convinced her to leave Jacques for a few days,” Renard said. “Minister Li is treating my family well enough, and as long as one of them stay with him, he will be satisfied of my commitment. Marie is free to come and go as she pleases, and I wanted her to help us assess your new love.”
“What do you think of her?” Jake asked.
“Stunning, indeed,” Renard said. “A pleasure to meet her in person, finally.”
“But you still don’t trust her.”
“I have nothing but her word that she’s been wandering across the globe for three years.”
“You verified her father’s death and her PhD?”
“Yes, they checked out,” Renard said.
“And her stories of world travel are pretty impressive. I’ll ask her to tell one tonight.”
“Those could be memorized. Perhaps we should–”
“Perhaps you should just back off,” Jake said. “I hope you didn’t call me over here just to talk about her.”
Olivia heard Renard flip the gears of his lighter.
“Of course not. I just received word from Admiral Khan that a Pakistani Agosta class submarine is missing.”
Olivia’s pulse accelerated. From her research she recognized Khan as the Pakistani Navy’s chief of staff.
“Lost at sea?” Jake asked.
“No, the Hamza, the third Pakistani Agosta 90B hull, is four weeks late returning to Karachi. Khan has admitted that the submarine is outside of Pakistani control and has been so for at least a month.”
“That’s nuts,” Jake said. “What’s it doing?”
“If the Hamza has indeed gone rogue,” Renard said, “it has an unknown agenda.”
“If I were a renegade Pakistani submarine commander,” Jake said, “I’d launch a sneak attack against the Indian Navy. You could take control of the food sources and trade routes. It would cripple the Indian economy.”
And kill thousands, Olivia thought.
“Perhaps,” Renard said. “But you assume a commander of sound mind. Such a man does not take his submarine rogue.”
“I did,” Jake said.
“Proving my point.”
“You’re hilarious. Who’s the skipper?” Jake asked.
“Commander Hamid Hayat. He’s a brilliant man, the Admiral tells me. He earned a master’s degree from Harvard and learned western submarine techniques at the U.S. Naval Submarine School before exchange programs were restricted. Khan is scared and wants the Hamza stopped.”
“Stopped?” Jake asked. “You mean sunk.”
“Khan has sent assets to patrol the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal in case the Hamza attacks Indian ports.”
“Why’d Khan tell you?” Jake asked.
“Because when I take command of the Hai Lang, I will be on an exact replica of the Hamza. It is vital that I know that at least one nation is hunting my twin and that my twin is hostile with an unknown agenda.”
Take command of the Hai Lang, Olivia thought, the official name of the Taiwanese Agosta. Renard’s no sideline consultant. He’s right in it!
“So what are you going to do?” Jake asked.
“Nothing different for now. My debt remains with Taiwan. Beyond that is mere conjecture. I will make haste, however. I’m taking my crew to Taipei tomorrow. We’ll meet the Hai Lang at Keelung, familiarize ourselves with the vessel, and begin hunting Chinese submarines.”
“And this is where you ask me to go with you.”
“You must join me. You will before this is over. Damn it, man, I swear you will.”
Olivia noted that Renard sounded less afraid of Slate than afraid of being without him.
“You threatening me, Pierre?”
“I never would. You just leave me with no choice but to trust that you will realize where your loyalties lie.”
The rest of the tape held no intelligence. Olivia dropped her headphones and picked up her cell phone.
“I heard it. I already woke Robert,” Tommy said. “You just blew this wide open. There’ll be some action in Islamabad and Taipei tomorrow. This is huge.”
“There’s going to be plenty of action right here,” Olivia said. “Renard’s still trying to recruit Slate.”
“Renard owns him,” he said. “Slate will join him.”
Her confidence spiked.
“Except that Slate’s falling in love with me, and I’ve got him off balance,” she said. “We can play this out for some prime intel. The fun’s just getting started.”