Chapter Seven

 

Chapter Seven

 Irene

Entering the quaint cafe, a traditional French Bistro, I was unnerved to see a recent familiar face at a table. It was the uniformed driver that had been holding a sign with my name at Heathrow. I stiffened and forced my body to relax as we followed the maître de to a table by the window.

"What's going on?" Phil leaned across the table.

"Don't look now, please. Do you remember me telling you about the uniformed driver waiting for me at Heathrow?" Smiling as if everything was normal, I picked up the menu.

"He's here?" Phil lowered his head, looking at his menu.

"Yes." I did everything I could to keep from looking at the man sitting two tables from us. Hoping he did not see my recognition or my sudden nervousness.

The server came back to our table, blocking my view of the driver. I ordered an espresso and an éclair. Phil selected a Pie d'Anglos wrap and a bottle of Asda Beaujolais. I thought about my nerves at the moment and canceled the espresso, opting for a decaf. 

Phil reached across the table, patted my hand. Excusing himself, he stood, and as far as I could tell, walked past the man I had recognized without looking down at him. I turned, looking out the window, and was completely taken aback when I saw Karin and the Gordons getting out of a taxi.

Phil returned as the drinks and food were being placed on the table.

"I have another surprise for you," I smiled, turning back to the window.

"Uh Uh. What now?" He opened his white linen napkin, shook it slightly, and placed it on his lap. 

"Three of the people who had been on my tour in London just arrived." I stirred the decaf. 

"Did you have a problem with them?" He asked, doing the wine and smell taste as the server poured a bit of wine into the glass.

I realized Phil had no contact with them in London. He had left the Hotel before I joined the group. I stopped myself from telling him I knew Karin from SIP.   Still unsure about him or the whole scenario, I needed desperately to contact Mike.

"My turn to head for the loo," I smiled at him, took another sip of the decaf, stood, and headed for the Restroom area without looking at the so-called driver. It was hard to ignore him.

Inside the lady's room, I text Mike that I needed to speak with him ASAP. I used the facility, went to the sink, washed my hands, and was drying them when my cell phone rang. Going back into the stall, I pushed the talk button.

"Mike?"

"You a problem, Irene?"

"I might have."   I quickly told him about the chauffeur from London, Karin, and even the Gordon, though there was no reason I could think of to suspect them.

"I'll get back to you."   Click. He hung up.

Leaving the restroom, I saw the mysterious driver exiting the Bistro just as Karin and the Gordons came through the entrance. Did I see Karin flash a familiar look at the driver? My suspicion, my nerves, and my intuition were grappling creating a fear that was beginning to become stronger than I wanted. 

I was in Paris with people I did not trust. I knew if I was to carry on as planned, I needed to attend the scheduled art class the next morning. 

As I approached the table, Karin came quickly to me. Embracing me like an old friend, she whispered. "Irene, be careful."  Then she called Megan and Jeff, the Gordons. "Look who I found."

Megan also hugged me. "Darling, we all thought you went back to the U.S. for a family matter."

"It was taken care of so I decided to take the Art Class as planned." 

I looked at Phil and was unsure what to do. Introduce him, pretend I didn't know him, or what?

He took over quickly. 

"I met Ms. Devlin in London and was surprised to find her here in Paris. We are having a bite to eat. Would you care to join us? I'm Alex Michaels."

Oh my lord! Alex Michaels? Where did that come from and why? I wondered.

"Thank you, Mr. Michaels," Jeff extended his hand. I'm Jeff Gordon. This is my wife Megan. We met Mrs. Devlin in London. We were on tour together."

Expecting Mike to call me at any moment, I excused myself, telling them I had to check on my stolen luggage and see if the Desk Clerk found a room for me.

"You don't have a room?" Karin asked. "What happened?"

"Mrs. Devlin had canceled her room when she thought she was going home. She forgot to rebook it."   Phil, or Alex, whatever, was a fast thinker. "I have a double room, Irene. You can share it with me."   Karin offered.

It was tempting, very tempting. "Thank you, Karin. Let me check at the desk."

Phil bid them goodnight. Following me to the lobby, he said, "Sorry about the name switch."

I reached the desk before he could continue if he planned to continue and explain.

"Madam, your luggage has not been found however a room has been canceled a few minutes ago. A housekeeper is preparing it for you. I need your credit card and passport, s'il vous plaît."

"I'll escort you to your room."   Phil offered.

Taking the key card from the clerk, I turned to him. "Phil, or whoever you are, I prefer to go to my room alone. Goodnight."

"Irene wait. I have something to tell you."

I turned slowly. "Mr. Grant or Michaels, or whatever your name is, I have had enough surprises for one day. I do not care to have another." I hurried to the elevator muttering, "I'm tired. I have no luggage. I just want to go to bed."

 

Phil

My mission in London was completed without a problem. I delivered the information to a contact from Zurich. Where it went from there, I had no idea. Sometimes information went from country to country and back to the States. Subterfuge was paramount. Confuse the opposition. 

Learning that Irene was continuing with her original orders going to Paris and since I had a few days before I needed to return to SIP for a new assignment, I decided to zip over to Paris and keep an eye on her. I wanted to do it for Derek. At least, that's what I told myself.

Flights from Heathrow to Paris were being delayed due to violent rainstorms. I took the Chunnel Euro star high-speed train traveling under the English Channel to France. I knew I would arrive before Irene and be waiting for her at the Hotel Verneuil. My contact at SIP was kind enough to give me that information. He knew I had been assigned to keep an eye on her. He felt she might still be in danger and since I was doing it on my own time, it was not a problem to supply me with where she was staying. Beyond that, he was not able to tell me details of her assignment.

Sitting at a table in a Bistro off the lobby, I could see the entrance. When I saw her hurrying to the front desk with the doorman following, in what appeared to be an adamant conversation, I knew something was amiss. She stood behind a young couple being served by the desk clerk. Watching her tap her foot told me something was very much wrong. I signaled a server to bring my check for the Brandy, signed it, and approached Irene.

Her surprise at seeing me registered confusion on her face. She quickly replaced what might have been some concern with a normal facade. She had been well trained. Derek would be proud of her.

My alarm came when she told me the flight attendant opened the taxi door for her. I knew he sometimes used the name, Eric. I didn't know if that was his real name or an alias. I knew he was one of our part-time operatives. How he managed to be a flight attendant on our flight from New York and now be in Paris was suspect. Our physical encounter on the plane was staged. Eric told me a suspicious passenger was sitting near the row where Irene and I were. He concocted the accidental knockdown to give him a chance to be placed in a seat next to the person of interest. What happened after he went down and was placed in the seat is beyond me. Now, I was wondering if he was part of SIP or if I was duped. I was glad Irene agreed to go to the cafe with me.