by Doug Solter
“Okay, but then why don’t these pipes come out of the water system, which is here? These pipes span out from this large container here.” Nadia clicked on a different folder that brought up more plans. “See? Those pipes and that container aren’t in the original AirTech design plans. And think about it, why would you need to water seeds in long-term cold storage?”
Emma thought about it. “You know, Jacqueline mentioned they were always concerned with moisture getting into the seed storage areas. Weird. So why put in a sprinkler that’s not hooked up to a water pipe?”
“Exactly,” Nadia said. “And if Raymond Foods wanted the modifications done to all of their facilities around the world, why not have AirTech design them into the master plans since Raymond Foods was paying them millions to install it anyway? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I bet my dad’s engineers were wondering the same thing. Maybe they brought this up to Jacqueline?”
“Didn’t Mr. Gooden say that his engineers brought it to his attention first?”
“Right, and Ben told my dad, who then talked to the engineers. But then they all decided to fly back home instead of confronting Jacqueline about it. I wonder why?”
“Your dad needed proof,” Olivia said, jumping into the conversation, her dress now on. “Think about it. Raymond Foods paid his company eighty-four million dollars to install these new systems. That’s a lot of flipping money to lose if they piss them off by making baseless accusations against AgEurope. I’d wager your dad wanted his lawyers involved before approaching Jacqueline.”
“We should send all this to Ben and see what he thinks,” Emma said.
Olivia glanced at Emma’s and Nadia’s clothes. “We leave in a half hour. You both better hurry and get your pretty on.”
Le Coq Rico sat on top of the Montmartre butte. The restaurant had wood-paneled walls, plush seats and the scent of roasted chicken. Jacqueline reserved a private room in back, where the five ladies all sat together. The meal itself was in traditional French style. The first course was appetizers. The second, soup. The third, cheese. And the main course, grilled chicken with snails. As he delivered each course to their table, the young waiter complimented Emma in French. At first it was her lovely dress. Then her lovely earrings. Then her cute New York-accented French.
Emma was always cautious around boys. The problem wasn’t getting them to pay attention to her. The problem was understanding what they expected from her. Emma tossed the problem around in her head once again when she found a note on the side of her main dish.
Le Café Oui Parle. Midnight. I’ll be waiting.
The waiter was in his early twenties. Obviously confident. And cute. Maybe this guy was modest in his expectations. Could Emma hope for a guy like that? One that knew how to romance a girl? A guy patient and willing to go that extra length to win her heart instead of expecting quick gratification from a blond object?
Emma showed the note to Miyuki, who giggled and swiped it from Emma. She gave it to Nadia and her eyebrows lifted.
Miyuki leaned over and whispered, “Are you going?”
Emma referenced Jacqueline with her eyes. “Not now. We’ll talk about it later.”
Miyuki paused. “I think you should meet him. It’s Paris! What do you think, Jacqueline? Should Emma go meet this young man at the café?” Miyuki offered the note to her. “Isn’t it romantic?”
Jacqueline put down her wineglass and examined it. “From our waiter? He is handsome. But I thought you wanted to go dancing with your friends tonight?”
Olivia grabbed the note from the table and read it. Her mouth twisted down.
Nadia speared a small piece of chicken with her fork. “Didn’t you swear off boys this month, Emma? You wanted nothing more to do with them, if I remember.”
“Ha! That’s before the French hottie served us cheese.” Miyuki giggled.
“Can you tell us more about Raymond Foods?” Olivia asked, desperate to change the conversation. “AgEurope is a division, am I correct?”
Jacqueline sipped her glass of wine. “Oui, Mr. Raymond owns food companies all over the world. North America, Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Russia…his market share is astounding.”
“And the company grows the food, processes it, and distributes it too?” Olivia dotted her lips with her napkin before returning it to her lap.
“From plants to pancakes.” Jacqueline smiled. “The Raymond Foods company motto.”
Jacqueline and the Gems worked on their meal and conducted more mindless small talk, crystal clicking as knives and forks touched plates. The young waiter did another check of the table. He held a long warm smile for Emma. She played it cool and concentrated on Jacqueline when she spoke.
Jacqueline savored more of her wine as she glanced at Olivia. “How long have you been working for Mr. Gooden? Pardon me, but you look…rather young to hold such an important position. You must be quite brilliant.”
Olivia played it off. “I graduated early. Wasn’t looking for a job straight out of school, but Mr. Gooden had this training program for new college graduates that I stumbled into. And I liked the company.”
“You enjoy climate control systems for buildings?”
Olivia took her time chewing her food before answering. “To be honest, not really. I’m interested in football. Rothchild Industries owns the team in Chelsea. I’m hoping to transfer there and be in sports management one day.”
Emma admired the save. Olivia knew how to think on her feet.
Olivia drank some water. “What’s it like to work with Ron Raymond? From everything I’ve read about him, he’s intense.”
Jacqueline finished her wine. “He’s a demanding boss, yet fair. People think the food industry is boring and lacks innovation. Ron Raymond sees it differently. The man is a visionary. Like a Steve Jobs or a Bill Gates. New crop-growing techniques. Genetic crossbreeding to build stronger seeds. Better animals that are healthier to consume. More humane slaughtering techniques.”
Nadia and Emma stopped eating their roasted chicken.
“I admire the man,” Jacqueline said. “He’s a man of action. Says he’ll do something and always follows it through to the end. He gets things done.”
“A workaholic?” Emma asked.
Jacqueline grinned. “You’re familiar with such men. Your father?”
“My dad so loved his work. The time we were together, he would be talking about this new project and that new project. What exciting new gizmo his tech firm designed. His hockey team getting into the Stanley Cup playoffs.”
“Your father was proud of what he built. Ron and your father had a lot in common. I’m sure that’s why he picked your father’s company to do business with. Ron Raymond only works with men who see the world as he does.”
Emma wondered if Ron Raymond had any children. And what those kids were like. Did they feel like runner-up in their parents’ lives too?
Jacqueline and the girls wrapped up dinner and said their goodbyes. Miyuki and Nadia acted inpatient, wanting to go straight to the clubs that were Paris hot spots to see celebrities. Emma noted Pierre driving up to the curb in a dark sedan, replacing the driver she had seen earlier that day. Maybe Pierre was more than just Jacqueline’s executive assistant? The woman in question climbed into the sedan and was whisked away to places unknown.
The Gems went back to their hotel, dropping their entourage cover for the night.
Emma slipped off her heels in the elevator as it took them up to their floor. Olivia took the pins out of her pulled-back hair and let the curly strands drop over her shoulders. Miyuki read a fashion advertisement on the wall in French. Or maybe she was looking at the pictures.
Nadia pulled at her skirt. “I hate my legs. They look like they came from a Muppet.”
“You be quiet.” Miyuki playfully draped her arm over Nadia’s collar. “You don’t look like a…what is Muppet?”
“A Muppet is like Kermit the Frog or Miss Piggy,” Emma said.
Miyuki
clapped her hands together. “Yes! Ha! I love Gonzo.”
“Just call me Miss Piggy, then,” Nadia said. “Short and fat legs.”
“Don’t be stupid. You have pretty legs,” Miyuki said.
“Seriously, you’re tripping over nothing,” Emma said. “You won’t let any guy see them anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Nadia asked.
“Well, since you’re a…” Emma stopped and changed course. “Hey, there’s advantages to not showing your legs. You don’t have to shave a lot.” She threw up a smile.
Nadia frowned. “Since I’m a what?”
Emma bit her lip and didn’t quite know what to say.
“That woman is dangerous,” Olivia said out of the blue, not paying attention to the conversation. “The hairs on my neck wouldn’t stop prickling. I’d wager Jacqueline’s involved in whatever is going on here. Tonight she was fishing for answers. We better keep our guard up.”
The gold elevator doors opened. No one moved.
Nadia was still waiting for Emma to answer her. Miyuki stared at the floor in an awkward kind of way.
Olivia tilted her head. “What’s up with you lot?”
Nadia fired Emma a look before stepping off the elevator. Olivia shrugged and followed. Miyuki was next, leaving Emma alone. She caught her image in one of the elevator’s shiny gold walls. Emma shook her head at herself before picking up her shoes and trailing the girls down the hallway.
A hotel employee stepped to the side to let them pass before continuing. Nadia slowed, her mind occupied with something. Emma passed her and reached their hotel suite just as Olivia swiped the room’s card key. The red light turned green and she pushed the door open. Inside the room, all the drawers were pulled and dumped on to the floor. Articles of clothing were everywhere. Pillows sliced open and the contents scattered all over the beds like confetti. Sheets pulled off. Closets stood wide open. Hangers thrown to the ground. The bathroom was hit too. Drawers ripped out, as someone had rummaged through the cosmetic bags and cabinets too. It was a mess.
“Glad we had our purses with us,” Miyuki said.
“And our phones,” Emma added.
Olivia scoffed. “This is why Jacqueline invited us for dinner.”
“What if it was a burglar?” Emma asked. “I’m sure they have crime in Paris.”
“It’s too convenient, love. How would the burglar know we’d be gone?”
Miyuki held up a diamond necklace. “And why would he not take this?”
Dad’s sweet-sixteen gift to Emma. She held out her hand and Miyuki handed the necklace back.
“My laptop’s gone,” Nadia said. She hesitated a moment before rushing out of the room. The girls followed Nadia back into the hallway. She ran to the elevator landing. The hotel employee was still there, waiting on an elevator. He had dark hair and a trimmed goatee.
“Sir? Did you recently see anyone around suite 811?” Nadia asked.
The man acted confused. “I do not speak English.”
Emma stepped in and repeated Nadia’s question in French.
“Non. I saw no one,” he said in French.
“May we see his messenger bag?” Nadia asked.
“Tell him we want to search it,” Olivia added.
“Give us your bag. Please? We want to search it,” Emma said in French.
The man shook his head.
“This bloke works at a premier five-star hotel in Paris and doesn’t speak a syllable of English?” Olivia asked. “And where’s his name tag? The hotel employees down in the lobby all had one.”
The man with the goatee went very still…then shoved Nadia into Olivia. The girls smashed into each other and fell to the floor.
The man hauled ass down the hallway.
Miyuki charged after him. Emma followed her halfway down the hall before realizing the other girls were still at the elevator.
“Go! We’ll head him off in the lobby,” Olivia shouted.
Emma gave a thumbs-up and ran towards the end of the hallway. The door to the fire escape was drifting shut, so Emma threw it back open and plunged into the dark stairwell. Below her, loud steps echoed around the concrete. Emma bounced down the stairs as fast as she could. Round and round each flight of stairs she went, each floor descending in order…
Seventh floor.
Sixth.
Fifth.
Fourth.
Third.
Second.
Emma reached the ground floor. She shoved open the door and the crisp night air bit her skin. The wide street next to the hotel was dark. A handful of streetlamps were at a distance, but not any close enough to make a difference here. Miyuki stood a few feet away, scanning the quiet street.
Emma breathed hard. “Did you lose him?”
“He’s here somewhere.” Miyuki tried to catch her own breath. “Take this side of street. I’ll take the other. Behind us is dead end, so I assume he went this way.”
The two girls split up. Emma walked along the sidewalk, peeking around cars and in the windows to all the closed shops. Emma tried to remember her training. If the man tried to attack her, Emma wanted to throw a kick because if she could knock the man silly in the head, the girls could come and help when he recovered. But Emma hoped Miyuki would find him first.
A shadow moved.
Emma froze. Leg kick, she reminded herself. Leg kick.
She took a few more steps. Whatever it was, that shadow was hiding behind the corner of this cheese shop. Emma wondered if it was safe to call out to Miyuki. Her friend might not have enough time to come save Emma from getting her butt kicked.
Emma prepared herself. Time for the actress to get into character. “Whoever you are, come out from behind the building or…I’ll kick you in the head.” She hoped that sounded threatening enough.
It did. The man jumped into view and ran down the sidewalk.
“Miyuki!” Emma yelled as she ran after him.
Miyuki hauled ass from across the street and joined Emma as they chased the man around a few corners.
A luxury hotel stood proudly on the street. Above the main entrance, a large metal sign with black letters that glowed in the night spelled out The Hotel Beau Barriere. Paris. Waiting under the cloth awning were two valets dressed to impress.
A man with a goatee raced past them.
Then Miyuki and Emma bolted past, yelling at the top of their lungs.
The valets laughed.
“Two girlfriends. Very bad, oui?” the first valet said.
“Hey!” a girl yelled.
Olivia stormed out of the main entrance, with Nadia in pursuit as they ran after Miyuki and Emma.
“Four mad girlfriends?” the second valet asked.
“He’s a dead man, non? Glad I’m not him,” the first valet said with a laugh.
Emma watched the man with the goatee veer away from the hotel and out into the busy street. French drivers slammed on their brakes and honked as the man weaved through the vehicles. Emma slowed.
Miyuki didn’t. She charged right into traffic, navigating the mess of angry drivers wondering what the hell was happening.
Emma pushed herself forward, tracing Miyuki’s path through the maze of stopped cars.
Olivia and Nadia ran parallel to the street, looking for a less dangerous way across it.
The man stopped near a white Peugeot and climbed in back. The Peugeot’s driver pointed a gun out the window.
Gunfire cracked the air as Miyuki hit the ground and rolled under the cover of a parked car.
Emma’s heart pumped like a racehorse. This was real. Holy crap. People were shooting at them.
The driver aimed his gun at Emma.
She copied Miyuki and dropped to the ground.
Crack. Crack. Crack. Real bullets pinged into the cars above her.
The sound of tires squealing pushed Miyuki back to her feet. Emma took her cue and peeked over the Toyota she was hiding behind. The white Peugeot raced down the street. There was no way to catch
the man now.
Miyuki rushed over to a young Frenchman unchaining his motorbike. “May I borrow this? I give back.”
The Frenchman scoffed at the question.
“So very sorry.” Miyuki lifted her leg and shoved the man off his motorbike before climbing on it.
Emma ran over to her. “What are you doing?”
“Chasing after them. Hop on.”
Emma had never been on a motorbike before. Didn’t they need helmets?
Miyuki jumped on the starter and the cycle roared to life. “You coming?”
Emma didn’t want to, but Miyuki might need her help. She swallowed her fear and tossed her leg over the bike, settling in behind Miyuki.
“What are you two lunatics doing?” Olivia yelled from across the street. “Don’t go after him. It’s too flipping dangerous.”
Miyuki gunned the throttle. The motorcycle’s front tire lifted off as they flew down the street. Emma held on tight. Getting shot at was terrifying. But being on this motorcycle wasn’t exactly calming her down either.
Up ahead, the white Peugeot made a left.
Miyuki’s hand opened up the throttle and the bike accelerated. She weaved around cars and threw the bike around a city bus. They were so close to it that Emma could’ve reached out and touched the metal rivets. Miyuki leaned into the left turn and didn’t slow. Emma glued herself to Miyuki and closed her eyes. She felt the motorcycle clear the left turn and shift its weight to the center.
Emma opened her eyes and saw a wall of traffic. All three lanes.
Miyuki braked hard and steered the bike up on the sidewalk, whipping around surprised pedestrians. But the girls were making better progress than the traffic snarled up beside them.
“Do you see them?” Miyuki asked.
“Not yet,” Emma replied.
Miyuki guided the motorcycle off the sidewalk and in between two lines of traffic, using the seam in between the vehicles as a bike path.
A white Mercedes.
A white Honda.
A white Peugeot. Emma pointed. They were in the far left lane.
Miyuki maneuvered in front of a slow delivery truck. They were almost on top of the car when—