by Cherry Laska
He ran his fingers through his hair before looking up at her. “Well, that was frustrating.” He took in a deep breath. When he slowly let it out, Jessica knew he was moving on. He picked up the phone to make another call, and she went to take a shower.
She enjoyed the hot water and the luxurious soap and shampoo. She smelled fresh and flowery when she wrapped up in a towel and opened the bathroom door. The sundress and heels she had laid out on the bed had been replaced with white silk shorts, a pretty red, sleeveless top, and a pair of wedges. She called out to Joe to ask why he wanted her to change what she was going to wear. When he didn’t answer, she thought he must have had his reasons and dressed quickly. She blew her hair dry, liberally applied a decadent lotion, put on a little make-up, and was good to go.
Joe wasn’t in the room. He must have stepped out. Jessica began tidying up. As she worked, she thought about the meet between Moreau and Zircone. She analyzed the layout of the plaza and considered the slim chance that the suspect had gotten lucky with his escape. She was eager to get to the restaurant and see it with her own eyes.
Joe came into the suite carrying a bag and a bouquet of tulips that were the same shade as her shirt. “These are for you. The concierge is sending up a vase.” He handed her the flowers. “I went out to meet Marshall at le fleuriste on the corner and buying something made us look less suspicious. Plus I thought they might make you happy. Win win.”
They did. She’d only ever gotten flowers on Valentine’s Day, her anniversary, and on occasions when it was expected. Anderson never sent them spontaneously. This felt very different and made her smile. “Thank you. They’re very pretty.” Jessica gave Joe a kiss on his cheek and felt a crazy, warm rush run through her. He took her free hand and spun her around.
“You’ve always looked great in red. I switched your outfit. It’s better for where we’re going.”
The way he was looking at her and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes made her stomach do a flip. “Thanks. What’s in the bag?”
He pulled out a box of fine chocolates with a pretty bow. “I know you love chocolates, but sorry, these aren’t for you. They’re a gift for our hosts. This barrette is for you, though, compliments of Marshall. It has a camera and a zip drive.” Joe opened the box and showed it to her. It was actually quite pretty. “Wear it tonight. When we get into Lefèvre’s office we can use it to copy his computer files and take pictures of any papers.”
“Did Marshall get a camera in place outside Lefèvre’s home office?”
“Yes, but the computer isn’t facing the window, which makes sense since that would create glare on the screen. Are you ready to go to lunch, gorgeous?”
36
JOE MADE THE JUDGMENT CALL to leave the car parked at the hotel so that after they ate they could follow in Zircone’s footsteps and check out the Metro. The bellman hailed a taxi. Jessica and Joe slid in the backseat. “Mmmm,” Jessica said, as the taxi left the curb. “You smell fabulous. I love Polo Black.”
“I know. That’s why I’m wearing it.”
During their ride, they chatted amiably the way a couple on a vacation would. They got on the topic of words they knew that were the same in both French and English. This somehow led them to an in-depth analysis of the French kiss. Jessica explained, “The term originated as an insult from back in the twenties. It was a reference to promiscuous French behavior.”
“Well, I don’t see anything wrong with being promiscuous. How could that be considered an insult? So, what do the French people say about the French kiss? Do they just call it a kiss?”
“Some French people say baiser la langue which means ‘kiss the tongue.’ Which is kind of clinical, right?” He nodded and she continued, “Others say baiser de le vi or rouler un patin.” Jessica caught movement out of the corner of her eye. The taxi driver was glancing at her through the rearview mirror.
“Hmm and what do they mean, literally?” Joe asked, no longer laughing but getting a playful look in his eyes.
She felt a rush of excitement from his tantalizing look. She had always been attracted to that mischievous sparkle in a man’s eyes. “I’ll tell you but it’s more sale than romantique.”
“Sale?”
“Dirty.”
“Well, that can be good. Very good.” He smiled, his eyes reflecting the sale intentions he was feeling.
“Yes. It can be good.” She giggled and wiggled her pointed finger at his face. “As your reaction shows, it can be a turn-on for guys. I don’t really like it though,” she said, realizing she was digging herself a hole with her words.
Joe pounced. “Oh really? I think you do like it. In fact, let me prove it to you right now.” His voice had taken on a husky tone. He leaned toward her slowly. She slapped his leg, but Joe caught her hand and held it there. She began breathing a little faster. Uh-oh.
“Let me clarify.” Jessica could feel her heart racing, and she struggled to keep her voice steady but didn’t try to pull her hand free. “I retract my previous statement. I do like it.”
“Aha, I knew it.” Joe tried to contain his laughter. He couldn’t resist being wicked and whispered in her ear, “And ooooh, I love it when you reverse your position.”
That pushed things over the top. He was asking for it, and Jessica’s best defense was to go on offense. It was time for her to lean in. With his hand still on top of hers, she squeezed his leg and sensually dug her fingers into his muscles, dragging them from his knee up his thigh. She let her eyes flutter. She found a seductive pose and spoke in her sexiest voice. “I loooovvvve romantique and sale French kissing. I loooovvvve to do it aaallllll night long.”
She paused if she was thinking about something very serious. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you what the translations are. You might not be able to handle it.” She looked at him from the corner of her eye. Jessica was a good teaser too. In that moment, she had Joe completely under her spell.
“Come on. I’m dying to know.” He narrowed his eyes.
“Oh, I don’t know if I should. Like I said, it’s not romantic. In fact, it’s not even that hot. I don’t like the literal translation, which is what I was referring to earlier. You would think the romantic, passionate French would have a better way to describe it, but I guess they prefer to use actions, not words. Do you prefer actions over words?” She winked.
“Stop torturing me. Pleeease, tell me. Now!”
Jessica couldn’t contain herself and laughed. “Wow, from begging to commanding.”
“Two can play at this game,” Joe said, and started tickling her. “Tell me what I want to know and I’ll stop.” He still had her hand trapped on his thigh. She was helpless against his strength. As fun as this was, she couldn’t take anymore tickling.
“Okay, okay.” He stopped and she caught her breath quickly. “Baiser de le vis means ‘the screw kiss.’ And rouler un patin means ‘to roll the blade.’ ”
“Oh, mon amant. Ma cherie. J’aime tes baisers. Je veux faire l’amour à vous plus que je ne veux rien en ce monde.” The words flowed smoothly off Joe’s lips.
Jessica was shocked. That stinker has developed his language skills. “More surprises?” she asked, getting hold of herself. “Do you know what you just said, or were you just repeating something you heard?”
“Oui. I know exactly what I said. In case you don’t believe me, I’ll say it in English for you.” With a husky voice he said, “My lover. My darling. I love your kisses. I want to make love to you more than I want anything in this world.”
Okay, he wins. Joe’s a champion at the flirt game. Her heart was racing. She managed to say, “Your French is much better than I knew. What am I going to do with you?”
Their eyes met and by the look they exchanged, they were both thinking of some sale things. Jessica had internal alarms going off. She totally ignored them as she nuzzled into his neck. She batted her eyes a few times and let her lashes tickle him with butterfly kisses. She could feel his heart pounding. She would never have t
hought they would be flirting like this, and she was unsure how they’d gotten to this point. But she didn’t care how. She loved it.
The taxi pulled to the curb in front of the Plaza. Joe paid the driver, who smiled knowingly at him. Apparently all three of them had enjoyed the ride. Jessica took Joe’s arm and looked up at him. Instantly serious, they were on.
They scanned the plaza while making their way to the café. Crossing the cobblestones, Jessica understood what Joe had meant by this outfit being better for where they were going and why he’d replaced her heels with wedges. She scolded herself for not thinking of this. A mistake she blamed on being rusty.
“Bonjour,” Joe said, smiling at the beautiful twenty-something French waitress. “We would like a table for two, outside, please.” Odette, according to her nametag, looked like she could be a model. She looked Jessica up and down.
“I like your shoes,” Odette said, smiling warmly. “Follow me, please.”
Joe and Jessica were seated at a table in the same section where the meet had gone down. They glanced at the menus while taking in their surroundings. A few tables over, Alejandro was shadowing a waiter. When he was about to walk by their table, Joe purposely knocked his water glass off the table. It shattered on the ancient plaza stone. Alejandro quickly put down his tray and began picking up the shards with care.
Jessica saw the manager heading their way. She stood up and intercepted him. He started to apologize, but Jessica told him it was her fault. She continued to distract the man to give Joe and Alejandro a moment to talk. She spoke just above a whisper, so the manager had to focus his attention on her to hear what she was saying. “We apologize. The waiter just happened to be walking by. See, we just got engaged last night.” She held up her hand to show off her ring.
He took Jessica’s hand to admire her ring. “It is almost as beautiful as you.”
“Thank you, Monsieur. I admit, I’m feeling a bit romantic. I ran my hand up my fiancé’s leg. It made him jump and knock over his water.”
“Ahhh. Oui, Madame. I understand. Our city can rouse one’s romantic side. Do not worry.” After telling Alejandro in French to finish cleaning up the mess, he motioned to a waitress. He told her something Jessica couldn’t hear. Turning back her, he said, “Please accept a complimentary glass of champagne to toast your love. Enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you so much,” Jessica said. “You are too kind.”
When the manager had gone, Joe said, “Alejandro spent his break smoking with a bus boy. Due to a little drug problem, the kid was afraid to talk to the police. The bus boy saw Zircone first move with a purpose toward the right before turning left and heading to the Metro.” Joe handed her a piece of paper. “Alejandro slipped me that. It’s the name and address of the waitress who served Zircone and Moreau. She was taken by the police to be questioned and hasn’t come back to work since. He’s going to pay her a visit when he gets off work.”
“I’ve been thinking Zircone got away so easily. I don’t think it was just luck. I think he had multiple escape routes planned.” She took out her phone sent a secure text to Marshall.
Can you prioritize the recordings from the plaza? Go back three days before the meet. See if Zircone was at this location before he met with Moreau. I think he might have left a vehicle. It may still be parked nearby.
On it. It’ll take me a few minutes.
Jessica also sent him the waitress’s info to rundown. The food came and her salad looked outstanding, but after her earlier workout, she didn’t think it was going to be enough. Joe saw her eyeing his lamb chops and made a gracious offer.
“Let’s share. I have to watch my weight too. Besides, now that we’re engaged this is what we’re supposed to do, right? Splitsies.”
“You’re right. In that case, could I have some of your fries too? Ooh, and some of that mint jelly.”
“Of course,” he said laughing, angling his plate to give her access. “You’re helping me out. I should eat more greens.”
When every bite was finished, she felt much better. So much for trying to eat light, but she would worry about calories later. Joe paid their bill. It was a bit pricey, but dining with a view of the Fontaine aux Lions and the Hall de le Villette was an experience worth the extra expense. The tranquil sound of the flowing water mixed with the street music that floated in the air. Artists were stationed throughout the plaza capturing it all. Combined, they made the plaza a magical spot.
After leaving the restaurant, Joe and Jessica stopped in front of the fountain and took turns posing for pictures. Of course, they actually had the camera focused on the different sections of the plaza and the people around the area. The numerous tourists using selfie sticks looked at Jessica and Joe like they were doing it all wrong and just didn’t have a clue.
One elderly woman tapped Jessica on the arm and said, “These kids don’t know anything. You should be holding each other, not those stick thingies.” She offered to take some pictures of them together.
The woman handed Jessica back her phone and waited for her to check the shots. “You have quite a talent. These are very good. Thank you, Madame,” Jessica said. “We’ll cherish them.”
The woman smiled at them sweetly. “Chérir l’autre.” She repeated it in English in case they didn’t understand. “Cherish each other.” She took her purse back from her husband who was patiently waiting, and they walked away arm in arm.
Jessica’s phone rang. It was Marshall. “I can’t get a clear picture, but someone fitting Zircone’s height and build rode a motorcycle into garage on the east side of the plaza. It’s been parked there since two days before the meet.”
“Great. We’ll head over now, but can you keep an eye on it until we can get over there?”
“Sure. It’s on the third level, row C, spot nine. I’ll send the video clip and the location of the bike to your phone. Hey, be careful. When I was checking the recordings, I detected a filter. I think someone else was checking the same recordings.”
“Got it. Thanks.” She pulled Joe toward the garage. Walking up the ramp approaching the motorcycle, the hair on the back of her neck was standing up. Joe could sense something too. They did what had been instilled by training and solidified with experience; they split up and used cover while scanning their sectors for danger. Six well-muscled men appeared from around the corner. They were coming at them quickly with clear malicious intent.
37
THE MEN OPENED FIRE ON Jessica and Joe. It was obvious they weren’t DGSE or DCRI—the French equivalent of the CIA and FBI. They wouldn’t have started with bullets, plus these men were darker, more like Middle Easterners. If they were after the Iranian, they were most likely SAVAK. The Iranian secret police and intelligence agency was known for being ruthless. They were probably the ones accessing the same recordings to see if anyone came to pick up the bike.
Fighting it out here in a public garage wasn’t good. They needed a chance to look over the bike the Iranian had left behind, but they couldn’t cause an international incident. Jessica had an idea. “Let’s take the bike. Hold them off while I hot-wire it.”
Joe had already moved behind a van and was firing strategically to pin down their attackers. If he could keep them from advancing too close, they wouldn’t have an angle on where the bike was parked. Jessica pulled the wires from under the engine. She needed something to strip the starter wires. She didn’t have her SOG knife, but luckily, she’d thrown a small metal nail file in her purse. She found it and quickly got to work. Their attackers had the advantage of numbers and took turns firing back while using the parked cars to shield themselves as they leapfrogged to maneuver closer. A round zinged past Jessica’s head. Small chunks of the concrete garage wall burst from where the bullets were impacting. A sharp piece caught the back of her shoulder. She was out of time, but thankfully, the bike roared to life. Jessica got on and pulled up close to Joe. She yelled, “Jump on!”
When she felt him holding on to her, she ripped the
throttle, and the bike took off. The back tire fishtailed and she backed off the power a bit. The bike hadn’t looked like anything special, but it had serious horsepower. She raced toward the exit and barely slowed down as they flew out onto Avenue Jean Jaures, just missing a car. Joe shouted, “They’re following us. Two cars. Head to the safe house, but we have to make sure we lose them first.”
They came to an intersection and Jessica took a hard left. It was a good thing Joe was hanging on tight and knew how to lean with her. He wasn’t a small passenger. His weight could throw them off balance and they’d be toast. She was trying to think of the best way to shake the guys chasing them. The bike had more pickup speed. She could weave in and out of traffic and take it places where cars couldn’t fit. They didn’t want to draw the police into the chase, so the less time this went on, the better. They were coming up on a red light with stopped cars.
“Hold on.” Jessica popped the bike up onto the sidewalk. She pressed the button for the horn to warn the pedestrians. She and Joe shouted for the people to look out. Everyone was jumping out of the way. An elderly man didn’t move quickly enough, and Jessica had to swerve to miss him. They came a little too close to an outside fruit display and caught the edge of one of the crates. Apples fell and bounced. They almost went down, forcing Jessica to bring the bike to a stop. The merchant screamed and cursed at them. Jessica checked behind them and saw that the light had turned green. The two cars full of SAVAK agents were aggressively passing cars trying to catch up. She saw one of the agents lean out of the car with his gun and take aim. “Gun,” she said, and hit the throttle. They took off. She heard Joe grunt in pain. “Are you hit?” she screamed.
