Chapter Six

 

Chapter Six

Irene, Paris

Swallowing the lump forming in my throat as the taxi neared the outskirts of Paris, I tried to stop the memories of our honeymoon. It had been the most romantic time of my life. Not just the sex, that was pretty great, but holding hands everywhere we went, unexpected kisses in a cafe, and the moonlight walks along with the Left Bank. It was romantically wonderful.

The driver was quiet during the 45-minute drive, letting me delve into my memories. I wished he would say something. I didn’t want to have other memories of days spent alone while Derek was taking care of business. Of course, I thought it was the export/import business. Since learning of his real job, I wondered how many times our trips abroad were for SIP. Another reoccurring unwelcome thought was wondering if he had married me because of my recall ability, plus traveling with a new bride was a good cover.

There were several occasions when we were out somewhere he asked me if I recognized anyone in the area. When I asked why he wanted to know, he smiled sweetly and said, “I just like seeing you use your powers.”

‘Use your powers’. When we were in Tokyo, he asked me several times if I recognized anyone. I thought it was odd. I never put two and two together. I told him a young man sitting two tables away from us in the Sushi Bar had been in our hotel lobby that morning, and also was at the nightclub we had been to the night before. 

Derek became agitated, suddenly on edge. He quickly called for our check, put more than necessary money on the table, and hurried me out. The one thing I thought was strange at that time was he always paid our expenses with a credit card. Never cash. We left Tokyo later that evening, two days before we had planned to leave.

As the cab approached downtown Paris and my hotel, more thoughts of odd behavior clamored for my attention. In Rio, he disappeared for three days, on company business he told me. He cautioned me to stay close to the hotel and not venture out on my own.“Take a tour, get to know other Americans in the hotel, and have dinner with them”.

I thought he was being considerate and didn’t want me to be alone while he was gone. Now, my thoughts were different. Had Derek been using me? Was I being used now? Was SIP using me as a diversion, as Derek might have before his death?

I didn’t get a chance to think anymore or use my intuition. We arrived at the hotel.  The doorman seemed to be in a heated argument with a man who was waving his hands wildly. Each time the doorman tried to approach the taxi to open the door for me, his opponent blocked him. The driver had already gone to the trunk to get my luggage. Another man came and opened my door. When I looked up, I saw it was Eric, the flight attendant. I hesitated and then quickly remembered I was to show no surprise that would make an adversary know I was aware of their unwelcome presence.

“Welcome to Paris, Mrs. Devlin.” Eric scanned the area around us as he took my hand to help me out of the car. “I hope you enjoy your art class and have some time to see this lovely city.” He hesitated before adding, “Again.”

He quickly walked away with the gentleman who had been arguing with the doorman. 

“I’m so sorry madam,” the doorman bowed politely and moved to my side.

I assured him it was okay and started to walk into the hotel lobby.

“Madam has no luggage?" He questioned.

I turned toward the driver standing at the car trunk who shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of, I don’t know what happened, then quickly got into the driver’s seat and sped away. Hurrying into the lobby, the doorman followed with a mixture of French and English apologies.

At the front desk, I waited patiently for the people ahead of me to check in. When they left, I told the desk clerk that I needed to report a theft of my luggage. I handed him my I.D. and passport.

He looked at them carefully, typed some words into the computer, glanced around the lobby, and then looked at me. “I’m sorry madam. We do not have a reservation for you. It was canceled two days ago.”

You know that antenna that goes up when I’m suspicious? It was not only up, but waving and rattling. Forcing myself to be calm, I gave him my most pleasing smile. I informed him it was a mistake and I would like a room for several days. “I also want to report my missing luggage.”

There was another shrug from the clerk. “I am sorry, madam, there are no rooms. We are expecting a rather large tourist group to arrive at any moment and all the rooms are filled. It is most unfortunate.”

“Irene! Is there a problem?" It was Phil Grant.

“Caution, caution, caution!” I told myself over and over again as I turned and shook my head.

“Just a slight one, but I think this nice clerk will find a room for me somewhere in the vicinity.” I turned and smiled at the clerk. “However, my luggage is missing and I would be happy if you would call the gendarmes so I can report it.”

Phil moved closer to me, speaking softly. “Do you think that is wise Irene? You will be bringing attention to being here.”

I stepped back from the desk, as did Phil. “I see no reason why I can’t report my suitcase stolen. I have no problem with attracting attention to myself. I’m here to enroll in an art class, which I’ve been planning to do for over a year.” My words were far more clipped than I wanted them to be, but then I hoped I made a point.

He reached for my arm. “I have a suite upstairs. Perhaps we can go there, order some room service. I am sure you are hungry, and I’ll help you find a bed and breakfast.

“Mr. Grant, I have no intention of going anywhere with you at this time.”  I yanked my arm away from him. “And for your information, one of the men involved in stealing my suitcase was the young man you accosted on the airplane. Now if you will excuse me, I need to wait for the Gendarmes and find a hotel, on my own. Thank you very much.” My words and my tone belied the fright I was beginning to feel. I didn’t know whom to trust, and I knew I had to get somewhere alone to put in an SOS to Mike at SIP

“Madam. The Gendarmes will be here shortly. The concierge is trying to find a room for you. You would be more comfortable waiting in the cafe, n’est-ce pas? 

“May I treat you to a glass of wine and perhaps a sandwich?" Phil didn't wait for an answer. Taking my hand, he guided me to a small Bistro cafe. I could see I wasn’t about to lose him. I was still unsure if he was a friend or foe. Better to stay with him until I could get to another hotel. At least in the cafe, I could go to the ladies’ room and text Mike. 

 Chapter Seven