by Phoenix Ford
After a long discussion John went with the police to a their office where they completed a written report. He pulled out a card in his billfold and called Jean Paul Solleder of the Sûreté. Jean Paul answered after the first ring. John reminded him of who John was and explained that another attempt had been made against him. After some discussion John agreed that he would remain in his hotel room until Sylvia returned but that Jean Paul would assign an officer to accompany John to Monoprix and Galeries Lafayette tomorrow morning where he needed to buy new toiletries and to the big WH Smith bookstore on rue de Rivoli. He would go crazy in his room if he didn’t have something good to read. Every last item he had with him in Paris except for the clothes on his back and things in his pocket and briefcase had been destroyed in the explosion. Fortunately his laptop was in the briefcase. One of the two street cops kindly agreed to drive him in his car back to his hotel and to stop at a convenience store on the way where John could buy some emergency personal items. He felt shaky after yet another incident, almost as if he had a large target painted on his back. Briefly he thought of having a shot of whiskey but quickly dismissed that idea. He understood from his friends at his 12-step group in Houston that with more time in the program these types of thoughts would gradually fade away as his mental response to a crisis. He was learning to "walk through" his emotions instead of numbing them.
At ten o’clock the next morning two uniformed police officers drove John on his errands. One of them stayed with the car, and the other walked with John everywhere he went. He bought everything he needed at Monoprix and Galeries Lafayette. They then drove to the WH Smith on the rue de Rivoli. John loved this particular bookstore in Paris because it not only stocked books from U.S. publishers but also British books, many of which are never sold in the U.S. He always found several good books when he went to this store.
Near the hotel John asked the driver to please stop for some snacks from a couple of places. The hotel had a restaurant so he could have his meals there, but it was always nice to have something to munch on in the room. He planned to read an Italian murder mystery he found at WH Smith which had been translated into English.
When he got back to his room John settled in for the day. He would be waiting to talk with Sylvia tonight.
At a few minutes past seven o’clock in the evening John’s cell phone rang. “Hello, John,” Sylvia said on the other end of the line.
“How did things go today?,” John asked.
“Not much progress. The explosives shipped from Paris are definitely not here. Further, I checked with Angola customs through official channels, and they have no record of any such shipment waiting to clear customs. I don’t believe those explosives were shipped here. I believe they were likely somehow diverted elsewhere for shipment to Syria. It seems that all top management as well as most of Angolaturbine’s business records are located at their Paris offices. I am highly suspicious of the warehouse manager in Paris so I am putting him under surveillance.”
“Did Reggie talk with the president of my company?,” John replied.
“Yes, everything is cool with the president. He was apparently very understanding and wants to help anyway he can.”
“But what about my due diligence? How can I get it started and get the Paris law firm we retained started if someone is trying to kill me?,” he asked with a pained expression.
“Don’t worry we have a plan. The CIA and MI6 work closely to fight the Islamic State. Reggie’s CIA boss talked to the director of MI6 and got me assigned to work undercover on this matter indefinitely. Because we have already introduced me as your assistant that’s the cover role I will play, acting as your body guard and continuing my investigation at the same time. But now that I have been to Angolaturbine whoever is behind this whole mess will be aware that you now know that the explosives are missing. For that reason I expect the attempts on your life to stop. After all, what they didn’t want discovered has already been discovered.”
“Well, as of last night when I tried to go to Monoprix after our telephone conversation another attempt was made against me, this time on the Champs Elysees. Fortunately two street cops were walking by and saved me. When will you return to Paris?,” John asked.
“My flight leaves Luanda at seven o’clock tomorrow morning, so I’ll be back in the afternoon. Why don’t I meet you at your hotel at 7 PM in the lobby? I’m going to stay in the same hotel in the room next to yours to make sure you stay safe.”
“Thanks, Sylvia. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” John put down the phone.
CHAPTER 12
“Angelo, let’s back off for now. John McRae has obviously discovered that the explosives are not at Angolaturbine or waiting to clear customs in Angola for Angolaturbine. He will try to use the work orders authorizing shipment to find the person responsible. Those orders all bear the forged signature of a project manager fired the week before shipment. I’m sure if they bring in law enforcement it will soon be known that the signatures were not authentic. I can’t imagine how they could ever determine who really signed those orders.” Eleanora was on an encrypted telephone line in her bedroom in Rome. It was about ten o’clock in the morning and a magnificent summer day. Eleanora was looking forward to her annual August in Taormina, Sicily.
“Okay, cara. I am really sorry our French associates let us down so badly, but this guy is like a cat with nine lives.”
“Yes, it seems that way,” she replied. “So let’s be clear. No more attempts unless I request them.”
“Understood.”
At two o’clock in the afternoon Eleanora walked into a medium sized trattoria near the Piazza Navona. Monsignor Polombo was already standing and smiling at the table. They shook hands since women are not supposed to kiss priests except on the hand. “It’s always such a pleasure to see you, my dear,” the Monsignor said to Eleanora. “Likewise,” she replied and smiled broadly as she sat down.
After Eleanora settled into her seat and the waiter had brought a small ceramic pitcher of white wine, the Monsignor asked “How are things going?”
“Reasonably well, but not perfectly. The Americans definitely know that the explosives shipped from Angolaturbine’s warehouse in Paris were not sent to Angola. Fortunately they will have an impossible time at the freight forwarder’s offices trying to unravel the shipping trail. It would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. They have probably reported the missing shipment to law enforcement which will trigger all the anti-terrorism organizations and spy agencies into action because explosives are involved, but I’m not too worried about them finding anything because it’s all so buried in layers and layers of shipping documents and mislabeled contents. The good news is that the suicide vests were a great success. Based on reports from Syrian Christian spies at least thirteen of the most extreme clerics were killed along with several of the top the Islamic State officials who were attending those Friday prayers.”
“Has anyone taken credit for the explosions?”
“No,” Eleanora replied. “I believe the Syrian Christians want to keep them guessing as long as possible to avoid reprisals, but the Islamic State must suspect them after finding a crucifix on the suicide bomber who was shot and killed before he could detonate.”
The waiter came to the table. Eleanora ordered spaghetti vongole and a salad. The Monsignor ordered minestrone soup and a pork chop with potatoes and spinach. Eleanora favored this particular trattoria because it was hidden deep enough in an ancient neighborhood that not often found by tourists. Most of the restaurant’s patrons were Italian business people. It had a nice atmosphere with a vine covered garden with tables in the back.
After the waiter left their table Eleanora said “Now I’ll tell you the best part. The Syrian Christians made contact with one of the People’s Protection Units of the Kurdish Supreme Committee. They have agreed to join the efforts of the Syrian Christians to bring the same terrorism back to the Islamic State which it is inflicting on innocent people throughout the re
gion.” She leaned over and spoke in a whisper close to the Monsignor’s ear. “They have obtained enough potassium cyanide to poison the entire water supply of Al-Raqqah. After the death of thousands maybe the Islamic State will at last give up its insane plan to impose its extreme view of Islam on the entire world.”
“I am sad that so many have to die,” replied the priest. “But such is war. And this is a war, a war of survival for anyone who doesn’t share the Islamic State's version of Islam.”
“Yes, it is sad. But these people are merciless. They behead Christians just because they are Christians. They do the same to Kurds, to Shiite muslims and even to Sunni muslims who don’t share their extremist views. They have destroyed some of the most ancient monasteries in the world. The Allies’ bombs are helping to take back a few cities in Syria, but the Islamic State actually controls more territory today than it did a year ago.” Eleanora sipped her wine as the waiter started to put their food on the table.
“Well, is our part in all of this completed?,” Polombo asked.
“Unfortunately, no,” replied Eleanora. “Money. The Syrian Christians and the Kurds have very little money. We’re going to need to continue sending them money.”
“Well, that’s no problem,” replied Polombo. “Why don’t you get an estimate of how much they need to accomplish these activities. This time I’m going to request the entire sum from a single Austrian businessman. He’s a real estate tycoon with billions who is a good Catholic and would be happy to do anything he can to stop the Islamic State in its tracks. He’s somebody I can trust and with whom I won’t have to share the details other than to say it’s to help defend persecuted Christians in the Middle East. Also, asking only one person reduces the chance of anyone finding out the truth.”
“Very well, “ smiled Eleanora. They ate their lunch and chatted about Eleanora’s latest planned restoration of a painting. Afterwards Eleanora returned to her villa on the other side of the river. She walked back because it was such a beautiful day.
CHAPTER 13
At six o’clock in the evening the phone in John’s room rang. He reached over and picked up the receiver.
“Hello, John. Sylvia here.”
“Hi. Did you make it back from Luanda?,” he asked.
“You didn’t hear me arrive in my room?,” she asked.
“No, but I took a siesta until about thirty minutes ago. I was probably asleep.”
“Sleep sounds really good,” Sylvia said. “I didn’t get much sleep in Angola.”
"Why don’t we have an early dinner so that we can discuss everything. Then you can go to bed early. Can you be in the lobby at about seven o’oclock?” He looked at the bedside clock. “That’s fifty-five minutes from now.”
“Yes,” she replied. “That sounds perfect.”
“Good evening, Sylvia, “ John said in the lobby as Sylvia stepped out of the cage elevator. She looked quite chic in a light gray summer pants suit, turquoise necklace and earrings and Cartier watch. Her shoulder length dark blonde hair was loose. No one would guess she was packing a Beretta in a holster under her left arm.
“Good evening, John,” she smiled. “I didn’t eat much today, so I’m starving!”
“Well, judging by what I hear about the food in Luanda, you were smart to wait. There’s a restaurant I know in the 1st arrondissement, the Bistro Victoires, where we could go if you like. It’s not too far.”
“Oh, I think maybe I’ve been there before, sort of an old-fashioned place. Yes, that sounds good.” Sylvia smiled and started walking towards the door. “Let’s catch a taxi.”
It was early enough that Bistro Victoires was only half full. They were seated right away at a table for two with old-style bent wood chairs. John ordered a glass of Sauvignon Blanc for Sylvia and a Badois mineral water for himself while they read the menu. Sylvia ordered salmon croquettes, and John ordered leg of lamb. After the waiter left with their orders Sylvia said “Excuse me, John. I’m going to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”
John said “Okay” and watched her walk away. She was thin but quite curvaceous in all the right places. He admired the self-assured bounce of her hips. He guessed she must be between 32 and 35 years old and at the zenith of her beauty. When she returned he stood until she was seated.
“So, tell me about Angola,” John said as he took a sip of wine.
“Well, unfortunately there isn’t that much to tell. The warehouse there is completely empty of all explosives. The explosives that were supposedly shipped to them from their warehouse in Paris never made it to Angola. Tomorrow I must go to the office of the freight forwarder here in Paris to review their records as the first step in unraveling the trail.” Sylvia took a sip of her wine. “Not bad, “ she said.
“How does this situation affect my need to start the due diligence for my employer’s possible acquisition of Angolaturbine?,” John asked.
“Now that everyone knows you have discovered that the explosives are missing nobody should have any motive to try to kill you. Also, on behalf of the CIA Reggie formally requested MI6 to assign me to this case. I am to continue posing as your assistant while I unravel the trail of the explosives, providing protection to you at the same time. If you like you can return to the offices of Angolaturbine outside Paris tomorrow. From what I found in Angola it’s clear that that’s where all their important records are anyway because the French were managing the company from here. I imagine your due diligence will require you to go to Angola too at some point, but I need to accompany you when you make that trip as a precaution.”
“It’s a relief knowing that I can resume what I came here to do,” John replied. “Also, you make pretty good company, you know, “ he grinned.
Smiling back at him, Sylvia said “I will accompany you tomorrow as your assistant. There are a couple of things I will need to locate. The first is a list of all visitors to the warehouse here in Paris for the week before and the week after the shipment of explosives. Secondly I need a list of all people including employees entering and leaving the Angolaturbine offices each day for that same two week period. And now that I just thought of it, I will need the HR file for the terminated project manager who allegedly signed those work orders authorizing shipment. I’m going to send his authentic signature together with the original signed work orders to our handwriting experts in London. I’m pretty certain they will determine those signatures are forgeries."
“Okay. Tomorrow I can set up a meeting at Angolaturbine between their present management and the Paris-based law firm we are using for the formal legal due diligence. Their lawyers here in Paris will be coordinating their overall legal due diligence but will be associating with an Angolan law firm in Angola for the legal due diligence to be conducted there. That will include an environmental assessment of their manufacturing facilities, a safety review, a whole barrage of questions and interviews to flush out any violations of the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act and a host of other potential liability issues. Accountants will be going over all their books with a fine-toothed comb. They will also need to meet with the Angolan tax authorities. These lawyers will need to explain the process to the present management, introduce their people and gain the cooperation of the management. After this process has been underway for a couple of days I still
need to go to Angola to inspect their facilities there, meet their local management and review what records they maintain in that office. A more in-depth review will be performed by the lawyers. So, you are going to accompany me?,” John asked. He was starting to enjoy Sylvia’s company more and more.
“Absolutely. I must maintain my cover as your assistant. Also, this trip will give me the opportunity to have casual conversations with the clerical employees who often can be a good source of information. You need my protection too…..just in case.” She smiled.
John sipped his wine and smiled back just as the waiter began to serve their meal. It looked delicious.
CHAPTER 14
Jo
hn and Sylvia sat in a second class RER train car as they left the Chatelet-Les Halles Metro station. It was 8:45 AM.
“I called the president of Angolaturbine and the law firm and have set up the meeting for 2 PM in the large conference room at Angolaturbine. That’s probably the same room where our lawyers will be camped out for the duration of the due diligence process. That will give us some time to root around for the information you need. Our accountants should be there when we arrive. Their job is one of the most time-consuming so I am eager to get them started. One of our major liability issues is tax. In view of what you learned in Angola, do we need to report the missing explosives to the police?,” John asked.
“No, I’ve been keeping the Sûreté well informed. I am required to do that while operating on French soil. They have started their own investigation and made all the reports required in France. When we visit the freight forwarder I imagine we’ll learn that they have been interviewed and had their offices searched by law enforcement.” Sylvia admired a chateau on top of a big hill in the far distance as she looked out the window of the moving train.
“I had one idea about the warehouse. Maybe they have some kind of security camera system,” John replied. If so, we could review the film for the weeks before and after the shipment of explosives.”
“Believe me,” she said, “that was one of my first thoughts about the Paris warehouse when I was at Angolaturbine in Luanda, but I was told that because they have a security guard service 24 hours per day they don’t have any such system. I met the guards and am suspicious of the one who works the night shift. I discussed him with the Sûreté, and they are doing a background check on him and the other two guards. Sometimes security guards are rather shady characters. They work horrible hours, have boring jobs and earn low wages. This makes it tough to find good people to work as security guards.”