“This is going to be fun.” He whispered to no one. Already he was beginning to feel that perhaps doing his colleague a favor was going to be a lot more interesting than he had originally imagined. They hurried past the crowds getting onto buses and hopping into taxis and she led him to a sleek black limo. It was much smaller than the ones back home yet somehow it was classier, less vulgar. This was all beginning to feel like a movie. The weather was cool and damp and he could tell that it had been raining. How fortunate for him that Celgen had taken this initiative. Now he would not have to haggle and argue and fake his way through the cab drivers trying to explain where he was staying. He didn’t even know how to pronounce the name of the hotel. The woman was patiently holding the door open for him as he looked around taking everything in.
“Oh..sorry! Just a bit tired from the journey.” Her face had resumed that frozen look. Well, if anyone could pull it off she totally could. He stepped inside and breathed in the rich scent of leather. This was definitely turning out to be one hell of a trip . The woman got behind the wheel. Victor was putting the luggage in the trunk and then in one quick moment they were speeding out of the airport and hurrying across the frantic highways into Paris. Taylor looked around to see France for the first time. It really looked like the American Midwest to him with green hills only here there seemed to be a lot of industry where back home it would have been all cows and corn. It was surprising how some of the most exotic locations reminded him of home. This kind of looked like Pennsylvania only with smaller cars and apparently no traffic rules. The black car sliced across lanes and cut off other cars with speed and decision. The driver certainly knew what she was doing. Too bad it was raining, he would have liked to open the window and see what France smelled like. In all of his travels he realized that each place had it’s own unique scent. If only he could bottle the smell of each place he would then be able to throw away all of his photographs. Venice had a salty, nutty smell that could only be Venice. Iceland was green grass and moss. Mexico was a banana and milk with flowers. It was hard to describe the smell of each location but Taylor had given it his best. What would Paris be? Soon they were entering the outskirts of the city and it no longer looked anything like home. It looked Parisian, just like in all the movies. It was a cliché of a cliché. The little shops and restaurants with neatly lined trees on every street were exactly as he had always pictured it. The people hurried about very much like New Yorkers only they were dressed much less casually than the people one sees in Manhattan. It seemed that no one was wearing blue jeans and he realized quickly that the women of Paris were the women of Paris for a reason. Each one was enveloped in a well thought out ensemble. Even the ugliest of women had it all put together so well that their crude features were simply an accessory to the outfit. They were amazing and had the utmost air of confidence in every well placed, high heeled step. The car was moving now into a nicer area of the city and things appeared more ordered and well constructed. Even the bistros began to look very fancy and expensive. He began to wonder about his hotel. He was sure now that it would be luxurious. This Celine D’Aumont was certainly taking good care of her American journalist. He was absolutely convinced beyond a doubt now that she was trying to sway him in a not too subtle manner to present her in a good light. Hell, if everything he had read about Miss D’Aumont was true then she really had no reason to pull out all the stops for him and the journalistic part of his mind began to wonder if all this glamour was exactly that; a smokescreen to hide some terrible and dark secret. He could only hope so and decided to play innocent to this obvious charm and disarm technique. He couldn’t help but be suspicious and he realized long ago that it was his cynicism and conspiracy laced way of thinking that had gotten him this far. From this point on he would outwardly lap up all of the first class service and flatter his hostess at every possible occasion without seeming obvious while trying to uncover some secret that may or may not exist. If there was a secret he would find it. Not only was Taylor a good reporter, he was also tremendously arrogant.
From behind her glass desk Celine D’Aumont replaced the phone into the receiver. He was on his way. From the moment she secured Mr. Hamilton for this assignment her nerves were on edge. She would have no rest until she had him here in the room with her. She would not calm down until she saw him for herself and looked into his eyes to see if her suspicions were correct. It had been very easy to replace the original reporter. After all, she was the one who sought out the news agency in America to get the story out. It was to be the usual stuff about her meteoric rise to power and money and her famous company which showed every sign of beating the competition in the race against time. It had become such a global market comprised of a world bent on stopping the clock. America had started the fad but it had spread like the plague. Plastic surgeons were pandemic and every store now had aisles of products devoted to making one look younger than they really were. She smiled at all of this vanity. It was the vanity of the human race that had secured her place in the world. She had not only counted on it, but exploited this trait to become one of the richest and most desirable of women in the world. Never underestimate how much money someone would invest to find a cure for the one illness to which there was no remedy; old age. She glanced into the mirrored wall of her office and smiled at the reflection looking back at her. A beauty stared at her with flaming red hair that had the perfect amount of curl which she always wore loosely like a mane about her shoulders. Her skin was flawless. She possessed the creamy smooth complexion that comes from the northern European stock. It was the kind of skin which never saw the sun without at least a thirty SPF sunscreen. Her peridot green eyes glimmered as if lit from behind. It was a perfect combination for a stunning beauty. She had the perfect face and figure to head a company whose sole purpose was to provide youth and beauty to an aging and unattractive consumer. The only thing that prevented her from being perfect was a nose a trifle too pointed and her chin was just as sharp giving the impression that despite all of this beauty, there was something hard about her. She never once considered surgery to soften the effect. As the president of her own company it didn’t hurt to look as if she could squash you beneath her feet without the slightest hesitation. As her power grew she realized she liked the look of intimidation and the smell of fear she produced simply by entering a room. It was true that none of her employees or investors ever saw anything but a warm and generous woman. Nonetheless, they were all certain that beneath the surface lay a dormant volcano that at any moment would erupt all around her. Now she was preparing for a performance unlike any she had ever attempted. She was going to seduce Taylor Hamilton. She was not going to seduce him with sex, that would be too easy as long ago she had perfected that art. No, she needed something more challenging and more exciting. She was going to seduce him with mystery. She was going to bring him very close to her secrets that she had been hiding from the world. If he was anything at all like the numerous journalists she had met, she knew he would not be able to resist. She looked herself over again making sure that she appeared genial, almost demure. She was dressed accordingly in a very modest but stylish dress of the most non descript taupe color which set off her skin and her hair. Her eyes needed no help being noticed. They were the eyes of a cat. Large and hypnotic they drew people in wherever she went. There was nothing sexy about her dress but it fit her body like a tight leather glove. It was completed understated and most definitely effective. She wanted him to feel superior as if he possessed the upper hand. She wanted to lure him in with a false sense of security. Perhaps this would be easier than she imagined but she was not going to take any chances after waiting so very long for this moment. Besides, if he was who she believed he was then he would not be able to resist the temptation she was about to lay at his feet. She pushed a button on her elaborate phone with her brightly lacquered nail.
“Ellen, please call the Ritz and make certain that the bottle of Vueve Cliquot in Mr. Hamilton’s suite is sufficiently chilled. Ther
e is nothing more disgusting than room temperature champagne, especially after a long flight. I don’t care what year it is as long as it is an expensive one. Oh yes, and make sure that the flowers arrived on time. I want no mistakes with our little reporter.” Her silky voice paused for dramatic effect. “Do you understand?” She said this in the most passive of manners yet the underlying threat was palpable.
“Absolutely Miss D’Aumont.” A timid voice responded. “Will there be anything else?” Celine smiled like the Cheshire Cat when she heard the fear in her assistant’s voice.
“Yes. When you finished with these things you can go ahead and take the rest of the day off. You certainly deserve it for putting up with me.”
“Thank you Miss D’Aumont. But it is truly a pleasure working for you. I have never been happier at a place of employment.” She had the tone of a professional ass kisser but Celine liked it. She released her finger from the black button and went back to observing the perfection of the image staring back at her. Three walls of her office were all mirrors. She was a vain woman and in a strange way she was proud of her vanity. She was tired of all the self effacing people she met everyday. This false humility offended her more than anything else, as if people were just begging you to prove them wrong and say something nice about them. With so many mirrors it was very easy to see what was going on at all times in her domain. Nobody could so much as roll their eyes or stifle a yawn without her seeing it. She was certain of herself. This time she would be the victor and she would not be beaten again. The thought of revenge only spurned her on even more. Just thinking of her former lover filled her with hostility. He had a way of getting to her; a creepy way of getting into her mind which drove her crazy and she wondered if she did the same for him. If only she could get to him and get under his skin. This was the foundation of her plan all along. This time she was going to take everything from him slowly and painfully and one at a time. First she would take his money and his property and then she would move on to the people closest to him; the people he loved. That reminded her, she had to schedule an appointment with Sasha White. She would pretend that they were meeting to discuss her exemplary skills and the possibility of a raise and a promotion. Money was nothing to her. She knew exactly how wealthy she was though at some point in her career she actually stopped counting and each year she had become richer and richer. What she needed was believability right now. Sasha must not suspect a thing. She must gain her trust and even her friendship if she was to pull off this scheme. She also needed to get to Taylor Hamilton before her ex did. She might just have to sleep with him after all. She laughed because she knew she could pull that off too for men always liked to dominate in the sexual arena yet in the end they were always the ones being dominated. They were victims of their own desire for more. She would decide when she met him. He was still young and from the photograph sitting on her desk he was very attractive. Black hair and those cold gray eyes that were impossible to penetrate. The kind of eyes that looked right through you to the very center of your being with a detached coldness that was almost not human. They were the kind of eyes that could see a lie forming on the lips. She reminded herself not to underestimate him, she had made that mistake before. She would have to tread very carefully. She grabbed her purse and headed out the glass doors. She saw her secretary Ellen had wasted no time in leaving. Her desk was empty and tidy which reminded her of Ellen herself. She had a vacuous quality that Celine needed by her side. Someone so close to her could not be too bright or too observant and Ellen lacked any curiosity whatsoever. She put her nose to the grindstone every day at Celgen and that was the way she liked it. No task was too formidable and she never once complained during all those long nights and weekends Celine was fond of throwing her way. She was the perfect accomplice to Celine as she had no knowledge or interest in the trap that she was helping her boss to set. She was living the her dream job with a dream salary that she had never previously imagined she could make with her Associates degree in business. She was making more money than most of her previous employers and all those jobs had been so dull and lackluster. None of them provided the intrigue and glamour that working with Celine and Celgen did. Celine had offered her a life that was high above her mediocre expectations. Ellen was a little mouse and Celine had offered her the key to the cupboard.
Working for Celgen was a lucky break that most people never get and now Celgen was about to go global with genetically engineered beauty products. Ellen had gained notoriety she never had before. She worked for one of the most interesting and exciting companies in France and soon the world. She was the envy of all her friends who were as mild and as dull as she was. For the first time in her life she was an interesting character with an interesting life. Celine never traveled without her and she found herself in a daze in Monaco and Los Angeles and all the glamorous places of the elite rich that wander about the world as if each city were just another room in their house. Even if Miss D’Aumont had been a cruel boss she would have never left her. She was as loyal as a pet dog and would never betray Celine to anyone, at least not knowingly. Celine could not have chosen a better pawn.
CLAIRE
Ellen rushed to catch the metro to get to her neighborhood before the streets became too busy. She was far too shy for the heavy pedestrian traffic that claimed the streets of Paris every morning, noon, and night. She still couldn’t believe her luck as of late and began to imagine that her life was something out of one of those awful romance novels to which she was addicted. Most people around her were just beginning their lunch and would be headed back to work and Ellen was free. She had no idea what she was going to do with her spare time but she didn’t care. Most likely she would read one of her books and hang out with her cat Olivier. Ellen was a solitary figure with a few single boring friends but she liked to spend most of her time living in a fantasy world where the women were skinny and beautiful and the men were rugged and disarming. An entire afternoon off was a blessing to her. She was so oblivious to everything about her that she did realize for one instant that she was being followed. A woman in black maintained a distance from Ellen and was very careful not to make herself too obvious. It was clear to her that the young woman she was following was absorbed in her own thoughts. She probably could have walked directly behind her for many blocks without being noticed. Still she had to be careful. It was broad daylight after all and far too many witnesses were on the sidewalks. She needed to follow her home. It would be difficult with so many people around her but she of all people knew how to make a distraction.
Anyone observing the woman in black would have noticed after a time that a large black bird was never far from sight. The bird flew from lamp post to lamp post and it was very clear that the bird was following her. But everyone was far too interested in their own lives and their own agendas to notice a random bird and a woman dressed all in black in Paris. She would undoubtedly be tagged as one of the myriad of fashionistas from all over the world who believed that dressing in black made her an artist. There was nothing unusual in her appearance or demeanor. She walked with purpose as did everyone who lived in the city. No casual ambling of a tourist marked her step. She walked boldly peering out from the dark Chanel sunglasses that enveloped her face to watch the young American who had no idea who she was and truly no idea who she really worked for. Finally, she entered the Metro and the pursuer had no problem getting on the same train. She stood a little away from her target and pretended to be absorbed in the map of the underground. After several stops they both got off the train in Montmartre and took the large elevator up. She never would have guessed this neighborhood for such a plain and unassuming young American, yet here she was walking through the artists neighborhood. The plain woman stopped at a small bakery and ordered and baguette and a few croissants. The woman in black waited outside and focused her attention to her thoughts.
“Come to me.” She repeated this sentence over and over again in her mind until she looked up and saw the black bird pee
ring down at her from a tree. She smiled up at the bird and glanced around. Her subject was leaving the bakery and heading up one of the steep narrow streets which ran which ran throughout this hilly neighborhood. The young woman turned to a door in one of the buildings made of gray stone with red shutters. She punched some numbers onto the keypad and the door unlocked. She walked through quietly and was swallowed up in an instant. Right before the door closed the woman in black managed to cram her pointed toe into the little lobby. She looked around to see if anyone was watching. Not a soul was paying her the slightest attention. She walked into the darkly lit room and saw Ellen climbing the stairs. There was no directory in sight so she would have to follow her all the way in. This time she behaved quite like a spy, quietly and slowly making her way up the rounded stairwell. On the third floor Ellen left the stairs and made her way through a narrow hall. It too was dimly lit and so obviously old like everything in Paris but certainly elegant with an old world luxury that was rapidly disappearing in the modern world. As Ellen put her key into the lock, the woman in black approached her and spoke softly.
“Excusez moit Mademoiselle.” She registered the shock in Ellen’s eyes. This little mouse scared very easily. “Do you speak English?” She asked quietly and assumed an expression of anxiety and fear. If the woman had any instinct at all she would have seen right through the insincerity of the stranger in black. Instead Ellen blushed and giggled like a school girl at the sound of her native tongue.
“Oh my goodness! You scared me! Are you new here?” Ellen forgot the key in the lock and approached the woman. She did not have a suspicious bone in her body. Her feet made no sound against the dark red carpet laid over an equally dark wooden floor. The stranger did not remove her expensive sunglasses which Ellen had taken to admiring and for a moment wondered if the woman worked in the fashion industry. She was very chic and Ellen could not help but wish she could be a little more like this woman. Perhaps they were going to be friends and Ellen could break away from her timid and nervous little group of women that she was so used to. The stranger’s face broke into a wide smile.
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