Amanda: Tales of an international female spy

by Richard Marques

  The man before them stood tapping his patent leather shoes on the floor.

  ‘You have both failed me.’ he told them, his voice oily and threatening. ‘Viktor, I had thought I would be able to trust you to carry out my simple instructions.’

  The fixed, resolute stare of the large, scarred, thug faltered and he looked suddenly ashamed.

  Their master’s attention switched to the shorter man. ‘As for you, Stefan… this was a chance for you to prove yourself to me. You have failed miserably, he observed.

  Stefan twitched miserably.

  ‘The target should have been eliminated straight away. Now she is alive and aware that we are in her pursuit. Surprise is paramount. Secrecy and efficiency are what I expect. The two of you have accomplished none of these. I would have been better off completing the assassination myself.’

  Stefan winced at his master’s tone. He was clearly becoming more and more agitated and his voice was tinged with a dangerous malice.

  ‘Which of you two is to be held responsible? Who allowed the sitting target to escape their clutches? Who failed to stop this meddlesome member of an unwelcome organisation complicating our plans?’

  Viktor’s expression had returned to a hard, blank stare. Stefan squirmed under his master’s gaze.

  ‘I-I didn’t mean to let her go, sir!’

  ‘Anyone who works for me must be relied upon to succeed without fail. Anyone standing between me and my purpose, which is now so close to fruition, I cannot tolerate. Anyone who lets me down in such a manner must be punished.’

  Beads of sweat appeared on Stefan’s brow beneath his curly black hair.

  The master’s right hand tightened on his silver-topped cane with such force that his knuckles went white. Stefan turned to run, but found himself restrained by Viktor. He turned back, quivering with fear.

  ‘Now you shall see what happens to those who fail me…’

  Stefan shook his head in terror as his master raised the cane and pointed it towards him. With one swift movement he removed the bottom portion of the cane like a sheath, revealing a rapier of glinting steel. Then he thrust it forward with a swift and accurate motion, piercing his victim directly in the heart.

  Stefan collapsed in a lifeless heap on the floor.

  ‘Dispose of him Viktor.’

  Viktor began to pick up the body.

  ‘And, Viktor, I shall expect better from you in the future...’

  Chapter 7

  Once she had recovered, Amanda contacted SVHQ to let them know of her close escape. She was put straight through to Charlotte, who did not seem particularly surprised by the turn of events and acted as if such things were a common occurrence. Amanda suspected that it was viewed as an inherent part of the job, just as repetitive strain was to a typist.

  She managed to keep media coverage of the incident to a minimum and in due course it was mentioned merely as a ‘minor disturbance’ in the local press, meriting no more than a line or two well off the front pages.

  The memory stick Amanda had been given by Monsieur Chaumert turned out to contain intricate details of the security systems that protected the Solution d’energie headquarters. Not only was the building protected by security guards, CCTV and thermal imaging, but there were also motion-sensitive alarms in direct communication with the police. It was baffling that the perpetrators had managed to enter the building, remove the documents, and leave without activating the alarms. Also, how had they managed to pass into the vault-like heart of the building and gained knowledge of the codes required to unlock the safe in Chaumert’s office?

  Amanda hardly knew where to begin, this being her first case. She felt totally out of her depth. However, it seemed logical that there must have been some insider help in order for the theft to have been carried out so successfully. She decided to devise an action plan, to give the mission a sense of structure. Her first move would be to return to the Solution d’energie headquarters to examine the CCTV and thermal imaging footage from the evening in question. She would then need to search the building for any evidence that had been overlooked. Afterwards she would draw up a list of suspects who could have been involved in the theft. Chaumert had told her that Maxine would be available to help her while he was away. Although Maxine was, of course, a suspect herself, Amanda felt she would need to liaise with someone while Chaumert was gone – besides which, she might be able to glean some information that would help her cause without letting Maxine know that she suspected someone from inside Solution d’energie of aiding the thieves.

  The building seemed to have taken on a completely different character that morning as it basked in the early Mediterranean sunshine. It looked somehow less foreboding, far more ordinary. Maxine was dressed in a different uniform to the rest of the guards today, perhaps as a mark of her status in her employer’s absence. She was wearing a dark jumpsuit and a pair of knee–high, heavy-looking black boots, all in stark contrast to Amanda’s skirt, blouse and heels.

  Maxine sat with Amanda as she spent the rest of the day pouring over the information she had been provided with and tried to assemble the pieces of the mysterious puzzle in her mind. Maxine informed Amanda that she, personally, had secured the documents in the safe at approximately six-thirty p.m. after Monsieur Chaumert had finished a meeting with a client. She had locked the vault and returned home at ten p.m., at which point the late-night security team had taken over. She had not noticed anything out of the ordinary that evening.

  The CCTV cameras were motion-sensitive and the daily footage was transferred from digital video recorders each morning. The files were stored on a remote hard drive. The thermal imaging systems were the most advanced on the market, utilising passive thermography with a sensitivity range of 1˚C to 2000˚C. At Amanda’s request, Maxine provided a list comprising the names and addresses of all SVHQ employees and contractors and gave her a USB drive containing the CCTV and thermal imaging footage for the day the documents were taken and the two days either side. These had, of course, already being examined by experts, but Amanda felt she needed to see the footage herself.

  Amanda returned to her hotel room that evening armed with the new USB drive and her trusty exercise book, the pages of which were divided into small squares rather than lines, like the paper used to draw graphs. This was a throwback to her French schooling at the Lycée Français Charles de Gaulle in South Kensington. The notebook contained a scribbled shorthand summary of the case so far.

  The evening she had planned included a good meal in the celebrated hotel restaurant and then taking a cup of cocoa to bed and carrying out the painstaking task of examining the CCTV and thermal imaging records for any discrepancies. Amanda had been more than a little shaken following the foiled assassination attempt but felt reassured now that the hotel manager had warned the staff to be extra-vigilant. They had even put in place extra security measures of their own, including some French male officers in fetching, well-cut uniforms.

  As she held a pair of Boucheron earrings to her ears and debated which outfit to wear for dinner, she heard the distinctive ring of her mobile telephone.

  ‘May I speak to Ms de Frey?’ inquired a deep and masculine French accent.

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘My name is Jeremy Mertaux. I am from the Paris branch of SVHQ. I have just arrived in Nice with orders to take you out to dinner.’

  Amanda was more than a little taken aback. If she did go out, her plans for the evening would have to change – and she had an awful lot of work to do. On the other hand, she did have a lovely Sonia Rykiel dress which was just perfect for the occasion (she had only had the chance to wear it once since she had bought it) – and this darling little Yves Saint Laurent cocktail ring and bracelet set would complement it perfectly. She could wear her new Christian Laboutin shoes… how could she refuse?

  ‘Okay, when and where do I meet you?’

  ‘L’Univers de Christian Plumail at eight p.m.’

  She ended the call and glanced at
her watch. It was already seven-thirty. She quickly slipped into the well-cut, figure-hugging polka-dot dress, fastened a string of pearls around her neck and placed the striking silver ring on the middle finger of her left hand. A splash of Jean Paul Gaultier Classique Femme and a cute Moschino clutch in hand, she felt imbued with confidence as the doormen hailed her a taxi outside the hotel. Amanda could tell that the late-middle-aged Albanian taxi driver was suitably impressed by her demeanour and she smiled to herself, looking forward to the company, good food, good wine and the thought of being able to enjoy Nice’s nightlife rather than being stuck in doors with her work.

  The restaurant was both elegant and impressive – Amanda later discovered it was considered one of the best in Nice. Jeremy was already seated at a table by the window and instantly recognised her, standing to greet her with an embrace and a continental kiss on each cheek. He was, to her surprise, devastatingly handsome, tall and slim with dark features and high cheekbones and beautifully dressed. Jeremy was already enjoying a bottle of Côte du Rhône but now ordered himself and Amanda two sparkling flutes of champagne as an aperitif. Amanda chose Coquilles St Jacques with diver-caught scallops for her main, while Jeremy plumped for a filet steak in Roquefort sauce with allumetes (French fries). Over a starter of freshly caught oysters in a red wine vinaigrette, Jeremy gave Amanda a summary of how he had come to work for SVHQ himself. Born to a family of winemakers in Bordeaux he had been educated at Henri-Quatre in Paris; after completing his entry exam he had attended Sciences Po. He had completed a graduate programme at UNESCO and then been posted to north Africa. It was then that he had been headhunted by SVHQ in Paris. His induction into the organisation had instilled in him the same sense of excitement as it had in Amanda. He had now been working for SVHQ for two years and had participated in one other major case, involving a drugs cartel in South America.

  Paris, Jeremy explained to her, was a place unlike any other in the world. A place full of dreams and romance. The moment he had set foot in the city he had fallen in love with it. He felt its beauty was unparalleled and so were the food, art, wine and women. He emphasized that Parisians take their food so seriously that every meal is treated as an event to be enjoyed and prolonged, hence the extended two-hour lunch breaks taken even by those in the private sector. Wine was also an integral part of Parisian life; indeed, he joked, it was likely that that if you cut their veins and arteries they would gush burgundy rather than blood.

  Amanda admired the consummate passion with which Jeremy described Paris. His descriptions were so colourful and vivid that she could almost imagine herself there. It had been so long since she had been to the French capital that she had almost forgotten what it was like to walk the bistro-lined streets in the early morning and smell the scent of freshly baked golden baguettes carried by the wind.

  Jeremy also reminisced about his childhood visits to the south of France. He had fond memories of running about the rugged coastline playing hide and seek, exploring cavernous rock faces or digging large gullies in the sand to form a moat for the fortress his father had built at his insistence. When he had heard of the case he had immediately put himself forward to be sent to Nice, the scene of such happy memories, and was ecstatic to be chosen.

  As the empty oyster platters were swept away Amanda spoke of her own childhood experiences in London and Switzerland.

  ‘I was born in London and lived in a house in Chelsea with my mother and father. My father is an English diplomat and my mother is an artist. My mother was born in France and met my father at a party at the English ambassador’s residence in Paris. I attended the Lycée Français Charles de Gaulle in South Kensington and then completed a three-term programme at a Swiss finishing school, the Institut Villa Pierrefeu. My mother was always too busy with her painting to have much time for me and my father spent most of his life away on business so I rarely saw him. Then I-’

  Jeremy suddenly raised his hand, motioning for her to stop.

  ‘Then you returned to England, where you studied PPE at Magdalen College, Oxford. Whilst there, you were elected president of the Oxford University student union and graduated with exceptional first class honours. Having completed a master’s degree in linguistics you began working in the banking industry. After a brief but successful stint at URS you were recruited by Rosenberg & Jackson. Your career was going from strength to strength and you were named employee of the year in January, but you were not enjoying working in the City, finding it unfulfilling and ego-driven. You were looking for an alternative profession and responded to an advertisement to work for SVHQ. You attended an interview and the job, was of course, given to you – at which point you were sent almost immediately to France on this assignment. The chairman must have been very impressed by your performance to send you on such an important case so early on in your career with SVHQ.’

  Amanda sat stunned. Jeremy had obviously done his research and profiled her. She should have expected it – he was, after all, in the security business – but it had caught her off-guard nonetheless. She obviously had a lot to learn about the industry.

  ‘Then you already know about Monsieur Chaumert?’

  He nodded.

  ‘And you knew everything about me before I even met you!’ She found impossible to keep a note of indignation out of her voice.

  ‘I did not intend to offend you, mademoiselle. I am here to support and assist you. You will soon learn that in this business one must be completely informed at all times. It can mean the difference between life and death.’

  Jeremy was very charming, but Amanda remained unimpressed and resolved to do some research of her own. She hated the idea of someone knowing everything about her whilst she knew almost nothing about them. How could you begin a relationship with someone on an equal footing when the other person knew your entire life history?

  In spite of this Amanda was determined to enjoy the rest of the meal and took a moment to appreciate the dish in front of her. The Coquilles St Jacques was presented with the utmost elegance. The tender scallops were delicately arranged in their shells and covered with a luxurious creamy sauce and gratin. The aroma was splendidly rich and when she tasted the scallops, nestled in their velvety surroundings, they were the most succulent to have ever passed her lips.

  After such a plentiful meal, dessert was unthinkable for either of them. Strong French coffees, on the other hand, were most definitely in order. Jeremy was still as personable as ever and kept her entertained with tales of the hilarious pranks he and his brother had carried out as teenagers.

  Once they had finished, Jeremy suggested a walk along the seafront. The air was warm and lightly salted. It caressed their faces delicately as they walked side by side. Jeremy smoked a Gauloise and cut a Belmondo-esque figure as the wisps of smoke shimmied off into the sky. It was long past sunset but the clouds were still alight with golden flecks as if skeins of the precious metal had been spun into long strands and threaded through a large needle. The sea was calm and foamy, with soft egg-white peaks.

  As they walked back to Amanda’s hotel she told Jeremy more about her mother’s art and described how her mother seemed gifted with the talent of somehow being able to bring the people she painted alive. Her brush lent magical life to inanimate paint.

  Jeremy walked Amanda up to the entrance of the Negresco and kissed her farewell on the cheek. The touch of his lips was as delicate and momentary as that of the sea breeze through which she had just passed. He touched her lightly on the arm.

  ‘Goodnight.’

  Snuggled in her bed a little while later, Amanda revelled in thoughts of the wonderful evening she had just spent. She felt comforted that now she had someone by her side to help her unravel the elusive mystery before her.

  Chapter 8

  Despite Jeremy’s help, however, a week later no real progress had been made. The Solution d’energie building had been searched inside and out. Numerous interviews had been conducted with the security staff and Amanda had seen the CCTV an
d thermal imaging footage so many times that she felt she knew every moment off by heart.

  She had been in regular contact with SVHQ in London via video-link and had kept them briefed of her progress. They had, of course, known that Jeremy would be joining her but had conveniently forgotten to tell her. They informed Amanda that Jeremy was one of their most highly regarded international agents, in spite of his fairly recent employment. He had progressed quickly through the ranks of SVHQ and was among the favoured agents of choice for high profile cases. The chairman’s orders, relayed to her by Charlotte, were to follow Jeremy’s advice without question.

  Monsieur Chaumert had also been in contact. Although he was not pleased to discover the documents had not yet been recovered, he was glad to learn of Jeremy’s involvement in the case and seemed happy with the process being undertaken by SVHQ in order to catch the culprit.

  Jeremy was stationed just a stone’s throw away, at the Hôtel Palais de la Méditerranée, and came to meet Amanda every day to discuss his ideas, any developments, and the best way in which to proceed with the case. That morning he looked as handsome as ever, casually dressed in beige chinos, brown leather driving shoes and a light blue short-sleeved Lacoste polo neck. In his left hand he held a paper bag containing two pain au chocolat and in his right a bottle of champagne.

  ‘A celebratory breakfast!’ he proclaimed jovially. ‘Today is the day we recover Monsieur Chaumert’s documents!’

  Jeremy was certainly capable of maintaining positivity in the face of adversity. Amanda just wished she could be so optimistic.

  She had booked a small conference room in the hotel where they could enjoy their champagne breakfast and discuss the case and where they had got to. She had put together a timeline of events, along with a summary of the security recordings. The CCTV footage was unusual in that the first time the assailants appeared on camera was not until the attack on the security guard. Before this time they had somehow managed to remain unseen. There was still no clue as to how they had entered the building and how they had gained access to Chaumert’s office. Similarly, the attack was the first time the thermal imaging cameras had picked up any discrepancies. It also remained a mystery as to how they had disabled the alarms and been in possession of the pin code necessary to unlock the safe. Finally, it was unknown how they had managed to escape without detection.