Ghost of Africa

by Chuck Van Soye

  But Bret had a mission, mentally put the beauty aside, and made a beeline towards the casino’s business office, knocked on its door and entered on invitation. He introduced himself as Steffan, and requested to speak to the General Manager on duty, Mr. Lecouberry.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Lecouberry. My name is Steffan Doevendans, owner and CEO of Dove International Security, a worldwide consulting and contracting organization, headquartered in Colombia.”

  “Bonjour, Mr. Doevendans. How can I help you?”

  “I’m in Monaco because my temperament is disposed to gambling, and am seeking a site for a near-future meeting of my firm’s senior management and major customers, as well as enjoying a personal overseas vacation. I’m traveling with my bodyguard, who also happens to be an excellent photographer.”

  “From past experiences, I’ve learned it is appropriate to ask about rules for indoor photographs in advance of taking any pictures. Would you please be kind enough to tell me about how it’s done in Monte Carlo Casino?”

  “Ah, oui, Mr. Doevendans, we do have strict regulations on photography. Briefly, cameras may be used any place open for general public viewing, both outside on all of Monte Carlo’s grounds and buildings, as well as most interior public areas not specifically posted by signage against photography. However, photography within areas reserved for gambling is strictly prohibited.”

  “I, and most of my associates and guests will undoubtedly be spending the majority of our evening hours within the gambling areas,” said Bret. “Would it not be possible to arrange for a specially permitted photographer to take photos of our activities therein?”

  “As a rather expensive service, we do on rare special occasions have a casino staff photographer that could take a limited staged picture or two, providing there would be no other gamblers in the area.”

  “Wonderful, we have in the past paid for similar controlled photographs in a few other casinos in Macao and South Africa. Expense is important, for some services, but not when it comes to retaining lifelong memories. Perhaps I could make an appointment for your staff photographer to take a picture or two of me and my lady friends prior to any significant traffic early this evening before I start gambling?”

  “Oui, I will check with the house photographer and get back to you early this afternoon. What is your local phone number?”

  Late that same afternoon, Bret located Jacques, the evening Concierge, who had just arrived at his desk in a corner of the Fairview’s lobby. “Jacques, one of the bellmen told me you could help me arrange for one or two pretty girls to join me for a few hours this evening, say around 6:00 pm. I’m Steffan Doevendans, Room 524.”

  “Oui, monsieur,” he said with a knowing smile. “I can make that happen. There are many beautiful female companions in Monaco. Two? They are somewhat expensive. Perhaps €2000 each.”

  “If they are truly gorgeous and dress exceptionally nice, I’m willing to pay that,” as he laid a hundred euro bill on the desktop in front of Jacques, who soon was mentally adding into the total the €200 each of the girls would be tipping him also.

  “Bon Soir, monsieur,” he said, and added with a grin, “A very, very good evening, Sir.”

  * * *

  Lee Suite, Hotel Fairview, Monaco

  Bret returned to his room, awaiting Zhu’s return. At 5:35, the doorbell rang. He opened the door, casually saying, “Come on in.”

  In walked a statuesque brunette, young and beautiful, wearing a long beaded black sheath that made her curves pop. “Hello,” she said, “I’m Celeste, and am very glad you speak English. I’m from London, and have trouble speaking French.”

  “Wow, nice look ,” said Bret as he slightly caught his breath. “Just the style I wanted.”

  “Well, my escort service told me you wanted a girl who was dressed elegantly. Not the normal request, but if that turns you on, it’s okay with me.”

  At that moment, the phone in the other room rang, and Bret excused himself and ran in. “Hello, this is Steffan.”

  “Je regrette, monsieur. Mauvais numero; uh,wrong number,” said the thick French accent at the other end.

  Bret hung up and returned to talk with the girl.

  “No, no. You don’t understand,” he said to the girl, who by then had removed the top half of the gown, which was hanging at her waist, as well as one cup of her bra. “I want you to be my companion in the Monte Carlo Casino. By my side. Watch me gamble. Bring me luck. Pose for pictures when the casino photographer arrives. Please get dressed again. Can I pour you a drink? My name’s Steffan.”

  Confused, but responsive, she was wriggling back into her clothes, muttering quietly, “Sure meet some strange guys in this work.”

  Just then the doorbell rang again. Bret opened up to meet Gabrielle, who observed partially naked Celeste and said, somewhat disappointed, “Oh, am I too late for the fun?”

  “No, No, come on in, and I’ll explain everything.”

  Gabrielle was a tall American girl, blonde, smooth skin and bright red lipstick that contrasted with her flowing white chiffon dress. He wondered how she could walk in those high stilettos, and noted how confident and cool she appeared, without the glitz. She came to Monaco to meet and marry her French match from an online dating service. He had sent her the ticket, but when she arrived, she found out that he had been killed the previous day in a car accident. Nearly penniless, her youth and good looks promptly led her into the gentlemen’s companion trade.

  After a few drinks from the room bar, both girls were looking forward to what promised to be an exciting and profitable evening with Bret and his handsome bodyguard, Zhu, who arrived at just before 6:00 pm.

  The hotel room phone rang again. Bret went into the other room to answer. “Steffan Doevendans.”

  “Monsieur Doevendans, this is Francois, Monte Carlo’s official photographer. I understand you would like to take some special pictures in, perhaps, the Roulette Room, as well as some of the public areas. Correct?”

  “Yes, at whatever time is permissible.”

  “That would be at 6:45 p.m., before gambling traffic starts.”

  “Wonderful. Where can I meet you? I’ll have my bodyguard and two ladies with me.”

  “In front of the business office.”

  “Okay, 6:45.”

  Back in the Fairview, Bret said, “Girls, enjoy your drinks awhile longer. We’ll be leaving for the Monte Carlo Casino in about a half hour to meet a photographer who’ll be taking a few photos of our group. Freshen up a bit, do your makeup, and just look as beautiful as you are for the pictures.”

  Moving to the bedroom with Zhu, he said, “You and I have to get more formal. Put on the white shirt, tie and dark suit you brought. I’ll do the same. During evening gambling hours, no one can enter the Casino gambling areas unless properly dressed. The girls will be fine.”

  “While the photographer is setting the scenes and shooting me and the girls, perhaps you could judiciously employ the camera you sewed into your lapel, just in case the professional shots look too staged, or disappear for whatever reason.”

  “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Again, later this evening while I’m gambling, use your judgment when it’s safe to snap the action pictures Chu needs. There’s bound to be security people standing around watching everybody.”

  “Right. I’ll be careful.”

  Back in the living room, Bret announced, “Okay, ladies, let’s go.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Monte Carlo Casino, Monaco

  Just outside the casino’s business office at 6:40, the official Monte Carlo photographer exchanged greetings with Bret, Zhu and the girls. “Bon soir, I’m Francois. And you must be Steffan?”

  Shaking hands, Bret responded, “Yes, and this is my bodyguard Zhu, and my friends Celeste and Gabrielle. I suspect that Monsieur Lecouberry has already briefed you that I wish to have you take a staged photograph or two in one of the gambling rooms, providing there would be no distraction to gamblers
in that area.”

  “Oui, I have already determined that our Salle Blanche has no gamblers at this very hour, and if we hurry in and take the photos promptly, we will cause no distractions.”

  Bret started nodding and smiling agreement, until Francois added, “Except to awaken the four croupiers attending the European Roulette table there.” As Bret’s smiling demeanor suddenly changed to dismay, the jesting photographer added, “Non, non, do not worry; I’ve actually chatted with them, and they know your group photo has been approved by management.”

  Bret inquired, “Four croupiers? I’m used to only one.”

  “That’s the case with American Roulette. But it takes four for European French Roulette, in order to handle the betting. Aha, this is the entrance to Salle Blanche.”

  As they entered the prestigious gambling parlor, the initial impression of expansive ornate design from floor to ceiling captured Bret’s gaze and thoughts. They sure didn’t spare any expense when they designed this room, he mused. White gilded marble and oak comprised walls and even the high vault; an immense powder blue carpet with woven design spread out in all directions; dozens of sparkling glass and brass wall lamps plus twenty crystal chandeliers provided elegant luminance; and a side wall of exterior windows as a backdrop framed a porcelain bar heavily inlaid with gold. Four roulette tables, each capable of seating eight players, plus an equal number of other gaming tables, provided ample sites to wager one’s money.

  Francois deftly moved Bret and his lady friends to the far end of the first table, facing the opposing end, with three croupiers leaning forward with their rakes extended to place imaginary bets, and the fourth at the wheel. He seated Bret, placed a few piles of chips in front of him on the green-felt-covered table, and put some into his hand. The girls, one on each side of him, smiled with delight. Then Francois moved to the opposite end of the table, with Zhu alongside.

  Snap/flash.

  He asked Gabrielle to snuggle up and kiss Bret on the cheek for a second picture. Celeste, not wanting to be left out, did the same. Bret struggled to ignore this attention, feigning interest on the presumed table action.

  Snap/flash.

  A couple more quick close-up photos of the table and wheel follow. After thanks to the croupiers, the group left the Salle Blanche to take a few more pictures in the Main Salon and on the South Balcony. After thanking and tipping the photographer, Bret suggested that Zhu and the girls return to the Fairview for rest and refreshments. He promised to join them shortly, and left to visit the casino cashier.

  Because he decided to gamble with euros instead of dollars, he completed the necessary paperwork to transfer to his account the euro equivalent of $5000 from the KB Luxembourg Bank, the Monaco LLC bank Zhu helped set up with Julien’s $9000 cashier’s check. Then he joined the others in his suite at the Fairview Hotel.

  After a few drinks and nourishment from a selection of finger foods delivered by room service, Bret said it was time to get serious and gamble. He had planned to start with Blackjack, but instead decided to try his luck on the European Roulette wheel. So the happy group returned to Salle Blanche, none too soon as the girls were getting giddy, and Zhu had started to remove his coat and loosen his tie.

  Bret found an open seat at a table and observed the action for awhile. He was uncomfortable because the croupiers spoke French while controlling the betting, but he caught on eventually. He withdrew €1000 in chips, each valued at €25 for that first night of gambling. He decided to make a Plein (straight) bet on 7, a number he always considered lucky.

  On the next spin of the wheel, he asked the croupier to place his chip accordingly on the red 7 square of the table layout. About thirty seconds later, as the spinning wheel slowed down, the little ball dropped into the 7 slot, and a croupier said “Rouge sept,” while pushing 35 chips to the red 7 layout square. Bret had just won €875!

  Zhu gave him a thumbs-up from the other end of the table, and the girls squealed in delight. Gabrielle at his left shoulder gave him a quick hug, while Celeste at his other side gently bit his right ear.

  He felt a flash of joy, and a natural impulse to pull his winnings to himself, but he was stopped short by the thought, You’re not here to quietly win a few hundred dollars. You’re here to create a ruckus and draw attention to yourself. “Let it ride,” he said loudly.

  Multiple exclamations from several observers were immediately hushed by “Shhhh” from House security personnel nearby, intent on maintaining decorum.

  The wheel was by now spinning down, and the “pill” dropped once again into 7. The gathering crowd shouted delight, and no amount of hushing was effective for several minutes. Bret had just won €30625. He asked a croupier to add it to his house account.

  For the next hour, Bret placed bets on other solo numbers, multiple numbers, all red or black and lost more than he won. Then he placed another €25 bet on black 11. He won another €875 and shouted “Let it ride.”

  One of the croupiers spoke to the others, laughing. Bret couldn’t understand the French words, but knew they were saying, “He won this once, but like all suckers thinks he’s gonna do it again.”

  But to the delight of the now huge screaming cloud of observers, the wheel slowed and the pill dropped into 11. Bret had won another €30625!

  “Do it again Steffan”, the girls hovering nearby urged. They wanted him to bet the entire €30000 on the next spin. They were giggling, touching his shoulders, kissing his hair and making a scene. A casino security man gently chastised them, but Steffan spoke an audibly loud rebuke, “Hey, I appreciate the attention of these ladies because it brings me good luck.” The security guy stared back angrily at the strident American, but said no more.

  Meanwhile, Zhu stood at the opposite end of table, unobtrusively accumulating secret photos.

  After a whole string of silent losses, Bret spoke aloud, “I’ll give it one more try,” and had a €25 chip bet on the plain 0. He won again and let it ride to yield an unheard of third jackpot of €30625. The crowd of observers, and even other players, went wild with exclamations in multiple languages.

  Shouts of “Let it ride again” exploded from the crowd. All decorum fled from Salle Blanche. If Bret did so, and won, he’d be able to brag, “I almost broke the bank at Monte Carlo,” with winnings over a million euros. But the odds against three consecutive wins are astronomical. And Bret knew it. So Bret wisely banked the pot with the cashier along with the other two.

  “No-o-o, do it again,” the growing onlookers chanted. Security feared it was losing control, and tried desperately to quiet the crowd. They were delighted when Bret gave up his seat in preparation to leave.

  “No, thanks everybody, he said loudly, but I’m going to need some of these winnings (about $108,000 equivalent) as my stake for Blackjack and Baccarat in Salle Europe tomorrow night. Come and watch me win there.”

  Before leaving Monte Carlo with Zhu and the girls, Bret made arrangements with the Cashier office to transfer €15,000 back into his KB Bank account, leaving him with about €70,000 on deposit with the casino and €6000 more in his wallet.

  Back in his Fairview suite, Bret thanked the girls for their performance during the formal picture taking and in the gambling area. He paid each girl with the promised €2000, and added another €1000 tip each, asking them to return at 7:30 the following evening for more fun at the gambling tables.

  They both excitedly agreed, but having expected to stay for the night, asked for an explanation why they were being sent away early. “Don’t you like us?”

  Bret addressed their confusion, explaining to them that he was married and intended to fulfill his marital pledge to his wife. The girls reluctantly left.

  Zhu, was also somewhat stunned and disappointed, yet appreciative that Bret honored his sister. But he could hear the girls giggling outside the door and as they walked away down the hall. He turned to Bret, smiled and winked, said “See-ya later,” exited and chased the girls down the hall, shouting, “Wait
, I’m single.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lee Suite, Hotel Fairview, Monaco

  Bret sat outside on the breezy balcony, a steaming coffee in hand, staring at infinity across the glimmering ocean, and listening to it splashing against the hotel’s rock bulwarks three floors below. Night two of Monte Carlo gambling would have to await a lazy daytime interim of nearly fourteen hours.

  A male moan found its way through the open sliding glass door to stir his attention. He walked back into the room.

  “Ohhhh, someone please shoot me. I can’t cope with this headache one second longer. I feel like puking, and my back aches like hell.” Zhu had just peeped through slits between his eyelids under pressure from the early morning sunshine streaming through his bedroom window.

  “Zhu get up. Tell me what you want for breakfast? I want to place our order with room service.”

  “Pepto Bismol. Uhm . . . and a side of oxycodone.”

  “Sorry you feel that bad. But no kidding, you gotta eat, man. You’ll feel better eventually. So what do you want?”

  “A Bloody Mary with horseradish. If necessary, skip the horseradish. Oatmeal is the only solid stuff I might handle. Strong coffee for sure.”

  “Last night I heard you running all the way down the hall after those girls. Did you catch either?”

  “Both.”

  Shaking his head, Bret placed the order.

  * * *

  FBI Headquarters, Directorate of Intelligence, Washington

  To: Marcela Hewitt, Branch Chief From: Joshua Jericho, PPS

  With your encouragement, I phoned Julien Jasper Jones of Delta Intelligence Services, attempting to arrange a meeting with him this week or next. I resisted telling him the specifics of what prompted my request. He insisted he was too busy to do so, suggesting he might be available in a few weeks (if ever). So I relented and told him my interest was Bret Lee. He took a few seconds to respond, then cleared his throat and said he had an opening in his schedule the following day.