Jacqueline, an efficient, highly qualified nurse-practitioner who originated from Corsica, was very suspicious of the circumstances surrounding Amanda’s admittance to the hospital. Jeremy had turned up in a taxi with the unconscious young lady, announcing that he was her husband and that his wife was in need of urgent attention following a car accident. Jacqueline very much doubted that he was the lady’s husband. Firstly, he hesitated when asked Amanda’s date of birth and could not fill in the extensive admission questionnaire fully. She also noticed that neither of them wore a wedding or engagement ring. Finally, he was very brief about the details of the accident. There was definitely something unusual going on. As well as being a nurse, Jacqueline was a professional gossip who loved to play the detective. She would be keeping a close eye on these two.
That afternoon Amanda came round from her coma. Jeremy was downstairs getting a coffee at the time. As Amanda lay outstretched on the hospital bed her tired eyes felt as heavy as lead. She tried to sit up, but it made her head feel as if it was splitting in two. She lay back down again. Where was she?
Her vision was blurred. It almost felt as if her head was the axis of the room and the whole world was spinning around her. She tried to concentrate on just one object in the room. There was a chair in the corner so she fixed her eyes upon it. The blurring began to clear and the spinning slowed until the room became stationary. The rest of the objects in the room, which had thus far been drifting above the floor, now seemed to float back into place. But she still had no idea where she was.
After she had regained her sight, the next sense to return to her was smell. A strange sort of smell was emanating from her surroundings, the scent of a strong and caustic kind of cleanliness. Somewhere in her brain she knew what it was, but her memories were so fragmented and disorganised, like the contents of a filing cabinet caught in a tornado, that she could not extract the information. She kept grabbing mentally at these associations but, just like documents caught in a high wind, as she came close to them they retreated out of reach.
She determined to succeed in her struggle to grasp the recollection. She visualised an image of herself running forwards and diving towards a pile of papers and grappling with one of them to prevent it from being carried away. As this vision of herself held the sheet of paper and studied it, the memory she was after came rushing back to her. It was iodine. She was in a hospital.
A hospital! The revelation was like a missing puzzle piece. All her senses now rushed back at once. She could hear a low, resonant bleeping sound, presumably from the machine that she saw she was hooked up to. She could taste the air as she breathed in and it passed over her soft palate, sickly and medicinal.
She looked down at herself. Drips were embedded in her arms and hands, pumping a concoction of drugs and liquid nutrition into her body. She felt like a human pin-cushion. She was clothed in a thin hospital gown, coarse and prickly against her skin, but she could also feel the softness of the cotton bedding around her. Her left shoulder had a purplish-coloured bruise on it, spreading out from a central point like the growth rings of a tree trunk. At that point, with the impact of an anvil dropped from above, she remembered why she was there.
She tried to sit up again, but she did it too hurriedly and was forced down to the pillow once more by the pounding in her head.
‘Jeremy... Jeremy,’ she croaked, repeating his name with increasing volume at each syllable.
Jeremy was just coming up the stairs when he heard the familiar voice calling his name. He almost spilled the coffee he was carrying as he rushed into the room and saw that Amanda was finally awake, her head slightly propped up on the pillow and her eyes wide open. She was paler than normal and looked frightened. He abandoned all restraint and seized her in a big hug, dumping the coffee mug on the side-table and splashing the contents.
‘I have been so worried about you! This is all my fault. I should never have-’
Amanda feebly lifted a hand into the air, cutting him off in mid flow.
‘We are in this together, Jeremy,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t blame you at all – only…’ she paused to catch her breath, ‘…from now on I drive.’
Jeremy smiled and released her. The relief he felt could hardly be explained, so he sat quietly beside her, holding her hand.
Amanda had rarely felt so ravenous. It was if her body had been ransacked by a virus, draining it of all reserves. Jacqueline had come storming in only to find Amanda awake, reading ‘Voici’, a French gossip magazine. Jeremy was sitting in an armchair beside her, half asleep. Jacqueline had scolded Jeremy for not alerting her of Amanda’s return to consciousness sooner and insisted that Amanda fill out more forms, presenting her with a pile of papers, a clipboard and a black pen. However, when Amanda had completed the forms to her satisfaction she had carried on fussing around them, wiping up the spilt coffee and fluffing up Amanda’s pillow. Once she had done this she had set about performing a brief medical examination. Amanda had insisted that Jeremy leave while she was checked over. Nothing untoward was discovered, so all they had to do was await the results of her blood tests. X-rays had already revealed that she had not broken anything, much to Amanda’s relief.
‘You must be hungry, mademoiselle. A good meal will make you feel better. I will go and speak to Claude.’
Jacqueline had not asked Amanda what she would like to eat, but what she had returned with could not have been more perfect. Claude, who was evidently the head cook, had fixed them up two steak-frites, simply presented on white porcelain plates. The fine slabs of meat before them were two of the most tender-to-the-bite entrecote steaks available, served with an unashamedly generous portion of crispy French fries.
However, that was not the entirety of the feast. Jacqueline had also managed to sneak them a bottle of Saint-Emilion that was so smooth it felt miraculous. It was one of the most satisfying meals of Amanda’s life, not just because it tasted absolutely delicious, but also because she needed it. They decided to forego dessert and coffee and instead sat together over the rest of the wine while contentedly watching French television.
Jeremy had decided he would set up camp next to Amanda’s bed, as he hated the idea of leaving her side at a time like this. However, as soon as Jacqueline heard this she ordered him out at once. This was not a hotel; this was a hospital with strict visiting times. Besides, it was terribly unhygienic to have people sleeping all over the place and making life difficult for the cleaners. They had quite enough to do already.
Jeremy scowled. ‘Okay then. I’ll return in the morning, first thing.’
‘I’ll be fine, Jeremy, don’t worry.’
Later that evening Jacqueline helped Amanda bathe and tried, unsuccessfully, to get some gossip out of her.
‘Is he really your husband? How did the car crash occur?’
‘I’m sorry, but I cannot discuss the accident with you. I have been told that I should not talk to anyone about the incident by the police.’
‘The police?’
Jacqueline was even more intrigued now, but was unable to shake Amanda’s resolve to keep the details of the incident to herself. It was still relatively early in the evening but Amanda, who was still taking a powerful cocktail of pain killers, soon fell into a deep sleep.
The man who had let himself unseen into the hospital in the dead of night stole quietly through a set of open double doors at the end of a long corridor and took in the succession of closed doors that led to various hospital suites on either side. One of them must be the door to her private room. He double-checked a folded piece of paper in his pocket, although he had already committed the room number to memory. He approached the door silently, treading softly, like an alley-cat.
He was just starting to open it when suddenly he saw a white-clad figure moving in the distance; it was a nurse! He retreated quickly and ducked around the corner as the nurse came down the corridor. She hadn’t seen or heard him. The nurse walked on by and disappeared into one of the other rooms, closin
g the door behind her.
This was his chance. The man walked straight up to Amanda’s door and went on in. There she was, the girl he had come to find, fast asleep. She was in for a big surprise. He came right up to the bed and stood over her.
Amanda stirred. Though she was dreaming she sensed someone near, something told her to wake up. She opened her eyes and saw a figure standing over her in a balaclava. She opened her mouth to scream but the man clamped one hand over her mouth, silencing her. With one smooth movement he removed the balaclava with his other hand.
The tousled hair, the twinkling blue eyes, the crooked smile – it was James!
James put a finger to his lips to indicate that she needed to be quiet and then removed his hand from her mouth.
‘James, what on earth are you doing here?’
James smiled. ‘I have been sent to check on you, of course. I mustn’t be seen here, though – strict instructions from SVHQ. Are you feeling okay?’
‘Yes, I was feeling much better until you crept up on me. What time is it?’
‘Three a.m.’
‘Three a.m.?’
‘Yes, and you need to wake up. We have a lot to do before morning.’
James spent the rest of the night updating Amanda in hushed tones on intelligence that had been obtained by SVHQ regarding the case. He also equipped her with some new toys before finally leaving at five-thirty. During the whole time they were not disturbed once.
At six o’clock, thoroughly exhausted, Amanda fell back to sleep.
Chapter 15
It was seven in the morning. Jeremy had been unable to sleep the entire night, what with tossing and turning and all the while thinking about Amanda. It was a hot night and he had slept naked, without covers. At around three a.m. he had awoken with a start and decided to get up. Armed with a strong coffee and a good novel he had sat on the sofa, trying to concentrate on the pages of text before him. His mind had continued to drift anxiously to Amanda lying helpless in the hospital. The injuries she had suffered had left her unable to defend herself, but he had to trust the hospital security to keep her safe. The only problem was, did they realise the type of people they were dealing with?
On returning to the hospital at seven o’clock he located Jacqueline, who told him that Amanda was awake in her room having just finished breakfast. Jeremy knocked on the door but there was no answer. He knocked again, then rapped his knuckles on the door a third time; still nothing. He entered the room very quietly, tiptoeing in, and was shocked to see Amanda’s bed before him, empty and perfectly made. The room was spotless and looked as if no one had ever been there. For a moment he thought he had come through the wrong door, but then he spotted the copy of ‘Voici’ and knew he was in the right place. He was about to go off in search of someone to ask where Amanda was when he heard a voice behind him.
‘Looking for somebody?’
He turned to see Amanda smiling at him in the shadow of the door. She was dressed in a skin-tight black leather cat suit and stiletto boots and her hair tied in a high pony tail. She was evidently feeling better.
‘I was expecting to find you in bed, convalescing.’
‘We must leave immediately. I have received additional information from SVHQ that requires urgent action.’
‘Are you sure you are feeling well enough? What shall we tell Jacqueline?’
‘There is no time for discussion.’
With that, Amanda strolled towards the window and placed a small, clear, circular sucker pad on the glass. The pad was connected to a small black device, rhomboidal in shape. It emitted a low beeping noise and an LED light flashed red to show it was in operation. Amanda stepped away from the window and depressed a button on a small remote held in her left hand, at which point the window shattered to pieces. Jeremy covered his ears at the deafening crash then his mouth dropped open as Amanda vaulted through the empty frame.
Jeremy stood frozen in shock. Then he realised that he was meant to follow and jumped through the window frame after her. By the time he found her she was settling into the driving seat of a black Lamborghini parked at the corner of the building. She pulled on a pair of black aviator shades and ordered him to get in. The moment he hit the seat Amanda put her foot on the accelerator.
‘When you said you would drive in future, I see you weren’t joking.’ he quipped.
Amanda ignored him. ‘SVHQ believe that an organisation named ENCO is behind the document theft. ENCO is a rival company to Solutions d’energie that desperately wants the contracts for nuclear power plants across Europe. The UK, France, Spain and Germany alone have a combined population of around 255 million inhabitants. For the construction, delivery and cleanup these contracts are worth several billion.’
‘What do we know about ENCO?’
‘The ENCO group is a public company with multiple shareholders. However it is believed that one man holds approximately seventy-one percent of the shares of the company through various anonymous guises.’ Amanda flipped a switch and a digital display within the dashboard revealed an unusual-looking gentleman in a black suit. ‘His name is Balthazar Charles. He is an extremely secretive figure, but is known to have been schooled at Radley, one of England’s traditional public boarding schools. He is a lover of all things English and is a regular attendee of English summer season events including Royal Ascot and Glyndebourne.’
Jeremy looked at her.
‘How did you learn all this?’
Amanda once again ignored him and carried on. ‘SVHQ have received information that ENCO may soon attempt to sell the documents. We are to gain entry to ENCO’s Paris headquarters and search for evidence of their plans.’
Jeremy eyed her appreciatively. This new Amanda was supremely confident, and it only served to enhance her attractiveness.
Amanda informed him that they were first to meet up with the SVHQ representative with whom they had planned to rendezvous before the car chase that had landed Amanda in hospital. They would access ENCO’s headquarters that evening.
They met Maurice in the Café de Flore on the left bank. Situated in the Sixth Arrondissement of Paris, it was said to be where Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir had discussed their existential philosophies. Maurice, the SVHQ representative who had been sent to meet them, was an older gentleman in his mid-fifties. Years of stress and late nights had left him with dark circles under his eyes and deep-set wrinkles. Despite this he maintained an air of French machismo and he possessed a mischievous twinkle in the eye that recalled a naughty schoolboy who drove his teachers to distraction.
Amanda and Jeremy faced him across a small wooden table with red tablecloth. Without speaking, Maurice pushed a small black file over to them. He nodded, indicating they should look through it. Within the file they found a set of unmarked plans, obviously relating to the ENCO building.
‘Are you prepared?’ His voice was deep and gravelly.
‘Of course,’ Amanda assured him.
Maurice took a glug of red wine from the small glass in front of him. Then he stared intently at Amanda’s face as if trying to assess her strength of character. The bill lay unregarded on the corner of the table on a small metal dish.
‘You are to gain access to ENCO’s headquarters tonight. We will meet again tomorrow to discuss your findings.’
He handed Amanda a ten-euro note to cover the bill, then quickly finished his glass of wine, shook hands with Jeremy and walked out through the door. There was no explanation offered for the brevity of the encounter and they were given no information as to where they would meet Maurice the next day.
Amanda was thirsty so she ordered a bottle of Badoit sparkling water. They drank the water in silence, while listening to the jazz playing in the background. After about fifteen minutes they decided it was time to leave. Amanda added some money to the ten-euro bill Maurice had left, then her eyes narrowed. There were two words scrawled on the back of the note in black, spidery handwriting. The word ‘heures’ was written below the fi
gure ten and the word ‘Pompidou’ was inscribed below it. After a few seconds, Amanda deduced that they were to meet Maurice at ten a.m. at the Centre George Pompidou in Beauborg. She said nothing of this to Jeremy and settled the bill.
That evening they ate early in a small restaurant that prepared fresh pizzas in Saint Germain. Both of them felt exhausted and headed straight for their beds. They had a long night ahead of them.
The alarm shrieked, dragging Amanda back to consciousness. It was one a.m. French time. Within a few minutes Amanda was up, showered and ready to leave; this was to be her first time breaking-and-entering and she was more than a little anxious about it. The all-in-one cat suit was donned once again, but this time she teamed it with a short cropped leather jacket. She also had a large Dolce & Gabbana holdall in which she had gathered the equipment required for the night ahead, which included some of her new gadgets from James.
Amanda hailed a taxi and headed west in the direction of the ENCO building. It was a gloriously clear night and the air was cool and crisp. From the window of the taxi she could see the dancing, glimmering colours of the City of Light. The Eiffel Tower was a glittering beacon of wonder, a golden tower topped with a white diamond-like light in the upper section. It was at moments like this that the beauty of Paris became so evident. Twinkling and sparkling, the historic city came alive; the display around her was enough to rival any pyrotechnics.
The ENCO office was located on the outskirts of the city in ‘La Defense’, the main business region of Paris. When Amanda was still a few blocks away she got the taxi-driver to drop her off. She would walk the rest of the way so as not to arouse too much suspicion, especially if the story of a break-in surfaced in the news the next day.
Jeremy was standing in the shadows of ENCO’s large steel and glass construction. He was wearing a long grey mac and a porkpie hat, like Dick Tracy. Highly impractical, Amanda couldn’t help thinking to herself.
Amanda: Tales of an international female spy Page 9
