Operation Due Diligence

by Owen Parr

  “I am sorry, sir, our rules do not allow that. You’ll have to leave it here, and I will have someone deliver it to the Mullers,” the security guard told Alex.

  His heart was now pounding. So much so that he thought the guard could hear it. He finally talked his way in past the security guard with another fifty dollar bill and was headed to Julia’s front door.

  The doorbell rang inside the Mullers’ condominium. Julia had decorated the rooms for maximum comfort in the French country style in shabby chic. Large white linen sofas topped with plump colorful pillows above the dark parquet floors made the ambience very welcoming.

  “Jonathan, there is someone at the door. Can you get it?” she said.

  “Dear, I am on the balcony smoking a cigar. I would appreciate it if you would get the door,” Jonathan said, somewhat loudly so Julia could hear him.

  “Jonathan, I am changing into my robe and—”

  Jonathan interrupted. “It’s probably just Marge from next door. You look fine.”

  Fuming, she acquiesced and finished putting on her robe and slippers, and went to answer the door.

  Julia opened the door, expecting Marge. She was startled to see what appeared to be a baker with a big cake box hiding his face.

  As Alex lowered the box and his face became visible, Julia’s original smile turned into a frown, and she became irritated and confused.

  “Julia,” Alex said in a very low voice, “I am sorry for the theatrics, but I need to see you tomorrow, please.”

  Julia offered no response as she reached for the box.

  She was feeling flushed and agitated and, not knowing how to react, she remained silent. Holding the box with her left hand, she pushed the fingers of her right hand through her hair.

  “Julia, is it Marge?” The voice from the balcony bellowed now.

  Julia reacted quickly to keep Jonathan from coming to the door. “No, Jonathan, it’s a cake delivery from my office. I got it.” She knew Jonathan would be relieved because he would not want to put out his Cuban Cohiba while drinking his favorite Zacapa Rum neat if it had it been Marge.

  “Julia, it is your favorite, white chocolate raspberry cheesecake,” said Alex, hoping this would have some effect on her.

  Julia was still unresponsive.

  Taking off his baker’s hat, Alex said, “Please, meet me at Lincoln Park at noon tomorrow, Julia. Please, I need to talk to you. It’s not personal,” he added.

  Upon hearing that, she looked at Alex, but said nothing.

  “Lincoln Park at noon. Thank you,” said Alex, as she closed the door while Alex looked into her blue eyes.

  The front door closed, just as the sliding glass door from the balcony opened a bit and Jonathan stuck his head into the living room. “So, what was that about?” Jonathan asked.

  Julia, now in the kitchen, was opening the box. Still in shock, she said, “It’s a birthday cake from my office.”

  “What kind?” He asked.

  “White chocolate raspberry cheesecake,” she said, as her heart continued to beat rapidly.

  “Ugh, whatever happened to plain chocolate cake?” He said.

  As she took the cake out of the box, she noticed the envelope that Alex had inserted and opened it.

  “Oh, my God,” she said to herself, as she blushed and a small smile lifted her face.

  Jonathan came in from behind Julia, as she quickly crumpled the note, and put both his arms around her waist. “Happy Birthday, honey. You are looking radiant and better than ever.”

  “Yeah, right,” she said.

  Pressing himself against her backside, he suggested, “Darling, why don’t we start celebrating your birthday?”

  Not allowing him to finish the sentence, Julia snapped, “Jonathan, don’t even go there. Finish your cigar, take a cold shower, and I’ll see you mañana.”

  “What’s up with all these showers?” said Jonathan.

  “What?” She inquired.

  “Never mind. I’m talking to myself,” he said.

  She wanted to read in bed for a few minutes, but her mind was racing with the anticipation of seeing Alex tomorrow. She was struggling and thinking, ‘Why now? What does he want?’ She closed the book, realizing she was not going to be able to concentrate, let alone read. Her mind wandered back to her first encounter with Alex.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  PARIS, FRANCE

  TEN YEARS EARLIER, THE YEAR 1990

  After their chance meeting at the Arc de Triomphe, Julia accepted Alex’s invitation to have a glass of wine.

  “When in Paris . . ., ” she said to Alex as she followed him to a café.

  They sat outside at one of the sidewalk tables. The Parisians were going about their business— some walking, a few bicycling, yet others jogging along the Champs-Élysées.

  “You should be on that bus, Alex,” she said.

  “What bus is that?” He asked.

  “That city tour bus there,” she said, as she pointed to a double-decker tour bus that was going by.

  “Ah, the dreaded city tour,” he said. “Been there, done that.”

  She felt very comfortable, sitting there with Alex. The music in the background—“At the Café” —added to the ambience of the moment. “What brings you to Paris?” She asked.

  “I am an international law attorney currently working with a law firm in Panama. We have some French clients interested in extending their international operations into Panama. So, here I am,” he said.

  “I am surprised they are not entertaining you today,” she said.

  “Oh, they wanted to, but I’ve had two days of small talk and too much cordiality,” he said. “I needed to take a break from that.”

  “And here we are making small talk and being cordial to each other,” she said.

  “Yes, we are. Yet, I feel very relaxed without a need to impress you or be on guard—if you know what I mean,” he said. “Can I ask if the feeling is mutual?”

  She thought about that for a second as she put down her wine glass. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression, Alex, but I must admit being relaxed as you say. And, I am enjoying the moment,” she said.

  “I have a suggestion,” he said.

  “Uh-oh, and what is that?” She asked.

  “I would like to learn more about you, and I think we should follow this chance encounter with dinner later this evening.”

  “I think the wine, the music, and Paris itself is having an effect on you,” she said.

  “My intentions are honorable, trust me,” he said.

  “You said you were an attorney,” she quipped.

  “Yes, I did say that, but I don’t understand,” he responded.

  “Well, you want me to trust you and believe that you have honorable intentions,” she said. Laughing, she continued, “Are those not oxymorons in your profession?”

  “Very funny,” he said, sharing in her laughter. “Tell you what? You pay for our tab here, and I’ll buy dinner tonight.”

  “I’ll be more than happy to take care of the tab here. As far as dinner tonight, I’ll have to think about it,” she said. “Walk me to my hotel.”

  “By all means. Where are you staying?” he asked, as he looked surreptitiously through his sunglasses at two men who were following Julia. He did not want to tip his hand that he had spotted them.

  “At the George Cinq Hotel,” she answered, motioning to the waiter to bring the check. She felt guilty, although nothing had happened to make her feel that way. She was attracted to Alex, and deep down she felt she wanted to be with him, thus her feeling of guilt. She rose from her chair as Alex pulled it back for her and then asked, “Are you married, Alex?”

  They began walking as he answered, “Yes I am. I married my high school sweetheart, but because of my work and travel, I am sorry to say our marriage has evolved into a constant battle of sorts. Yet, we are still together.”

  “Any children?” she asked.

  “No, we were never able to
have children. Perhaps that would have made a difference in our relationship.”

  “Yes, I agree, children for the most part can enhance a marriage,” she said.

  “True, but sometimes, if the marriage does not go well, you can spare the children from the malaise that can present itself,” he said.

  “I suppose you are right,” she said.

  “I don’t know that much about you. Want to fill me in?” He asked.

  “Sure. I’m an investment banker with Goldman Sachs, and I hope to make partner soon,” she said. She decided small white lie was required with the rest of her explanation. “I am here in Paris to meet with a firm that has an interest in acquiring a U.S. company. I have been retained by the local firm to analyze the feasibility of the intended acquisition.”

  “Do you like what you do?” He questioned.

  “Oh, I love it. It’s very rewarding, not just financially, but in many ways. Also, I love the fast pace and the competition,” she added, as they were approaching her hotel.

  “About dinner,” he said.

  “As long as your intentions are honorable, Mr. Counselor, you can pick me up at eight o’clock here in the lobby. Is that fine?” She asked.

  “Eight will be great. I look forward to it,” he said.

  “See you then,” she said. She stayed in the lobby and watched him leave as Alex looked back and waved goodbye. She returned the wave but was a bit embarrassed that he had seen her looking at him as he walked out.

  Replaying in her mind what he had said about his marriage, she was relieved that Alex had not inquired about hers. Truth be told, her marriage was no better than his. She had put up with her husband’s infidelity for many years—to the point where it had become abusive. Her marital relationship with her husband had ceased to exist for about a year. She had made her work the only meaningful relationship in her life.

  ****

  As Alex left the George Cinq and headed back to his hotel, he was floating on air enjoying the many sites and smiling Parisians that crowded the streets. He had found Julia totally enthralling and was looking forward to their dinner plans as if this would be his first date ever.

  He had not been very truthful with Julia about his role there, but then he could not reveal his involvement in the dangerous clandestine situation. The two men that had been on Julia’s tail, he noticed, continued to follow him. He walked for a few blocks and entered a hotel. He cautiously walked to the lobby bar, sat on a leather ornate bar stool, and ordered a brandy. Taking out his phone, he dialed.

  “Gordo, do you see what’s going on?”

  “I’ve been behind you all the time, brother. One guy went in. The other stayed out here.”

  “I am looking at the one in the lobby through the mirrored wall at the bar,” Alex said.

  “Do you think they made you?” Gordo asked.

  “They don’t know who I am. They are either Cuban intelligence or Noriega’s goons following her,” he said, as he took a sip from his brandy. “I don’t think they’ll hang with me. There’s no reason to.”

  “Did she tell you why she is here?”

  “No. I didn’t expect she would. We just met. Why get into all that, right? Stay with the guy out there, and I’ll wait here.”

  “No need to wait. They are coming out. I’ll follow them. Talk to you later, brother.”

  For the last four years, Alex had been using an American law firm in Panama as a cover while continuing as an NOC operative for the CIA. An NOC did not have the official cover of an American embassy and could be disavowed by the CIA and the U.S. government or both at any time.

  Alex had been honest with Julia about his marriage, though. As he had said, “work and travel” had negatively impacted his marriage. He knew Alicia had grown callous about their marriage, and Alex knew it was his fault. The nature of his undercover work and the assignments in Nicaragua, Panama, and Venezuela had taken a toll on Alicia, and he had done nothing about it. He had allowed his work to become the primary source of achievement and gratification in his life, but deep down he knew his days as an NOC were numbered and part of him was looking forward to that.

  ‘Tonight has to be perfect,’ he thought to himself, knowing full well that his mission was to protect Julia and not fall in love with her.

  He arrived at the famous George V in a limo. Looking at his watch, he saw it was seven-forty-seven and felt relieved that he had arrived just before the agreed-upon time. Somehow, he knew Julia would not appreciate him being late, and she would not be one to lag in her arrival. Walking into the lobby, he immediately saw Julia stepping out of the elevator. She was dressed in a stunning black and white dress. With Julia, less was more.

  Walking towards her and smiling, he asked, “Madame Muller, ça va?”

  “Très bien, Monsieur Cardenas,” Julia responded.

  They walked arm in arm out of the hotel. Alex could see the reaction that others in the hotel lobby had toward them. It was as if their aura was permeating the immediate vicinity and drawing others into their positive energy field.

  He waited for Julia to get into the limo as the driver held the door open for her. As he did, he looked around cautiously to locate the men that had been following them. He saw no one.

  “Alex, if you don’t mind, I am a bit anal about wearing seat belts,” she said.

  “Really? Seat belts in the backseat?”

  “Yes, please, if you don’t mind,” she said, as the car left the hotel’s porte cochère. “So, counselor, where are you taking us?”

  “I have a couple of places planned that I thought we would try out tonight,” he began. “Our first stop is the Opéra Garnier Martini Bar.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen the building. It’s impressive and beautiful, but I’ve never been inside.”

  “Good, neither have I,” he said, smiling and gazing into her eyes.

  “Then what?” She asked.

  “Wow, you don’t want any surprises, do you?”

  “Normally, I am the one doing the planning. I guess it is an old habit of mine,” she said.

  “Well, I’ll tell you, but I want you to relax and enjoy the evening. We are going to Restaurant Lapérouse. It’s classic French, and both the building and the restaurant have quite a history dating back hundreds of years.”

  “I’m beginning to think you are taking me on a city tour of old Paris,” she said, jokingly.

  “Funny, I like to do my research. My goal is to go to places that neither one of us has been to, so we can create our own memories.”

  “A Cuban romantic in Paris,” she said, sighing.

  At the Opéra Garnier Martini Bar, he had arranged for a table on the terrace to enjoy the unique setting that it offered. The conversation remained casual as they indulged in adult beverages. He was enjoying the evening and could see that Julia was enjoying herself, too.

  When they arrived at the Restaurant Lapérouse, the maître d’ showed them to a private dining room that Alex had arranged. Established in 1766, it was one of the oldest restaurants in Paris. Decorated in typical French 17th century fashion.

  “Impressive,” she said, as she sat down.

  “We have to look at the mirrors before we leave,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I hear the mirrors have scratches all over them from the days the mistresses would double-check their diamond’s value as they left the restaurant,” he replied.

  Looking at the maître d’, he said, “Monsieur, may we have two Absolut martinis, shaken and slightly dirty?”

  “Oui, monsieur. May I suggest blue cheese stuffed olives?” The maître d’ asked.

  Julia looked at the maître d’. “Yes, please, so far he has not been given anything to eat,” she said in perfect French.

  Alex laughed, looking at the maître d’ who had a puzzled look on his face, and he saw the moment was right to inquire about Julia’s marital status. “So, tell me, are you married?” he asked.

  “You really want to go there
?” She replied in return.

  “Yes, but only if you want to share,” he said.

  “Well, our marital statuses are somewhat similar. Jonathan, my husband, and I have been married for six years. He is a renowned plastic surgeon—a very good one at that. However, I am afraid that his extramarital escapades have taken a toll on our relationship,” she replied.

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “We’ve tried counseling, but it takes a willingness to change in order for that to work. At first, I blamed myself, but I am over that now.”

  “I have to ask why are you still married?”

  “I could ask the same about you,” she retorted.

  Alex sat up and ignored her comment.

  “Our married life lacks a lot, including intimacy,” she went on. “He has his work, and I have mine. We share a few things for the sake of appearances, I guess.”

  “It sounds like there’s a huge void, though.”

  The waiter brought the drinks and set them down on the table.

  “Let’s toast to happiness and my definition of it,” Alex said.

  “Do share,” she said, picking up her glass.

  “Happiness has three ingredients. The first is feeling at peace with God. The second is feeling someone’s love, and really loving someone back,” Alex said.

  “Very deep, Alex, very deep,” she said softly, and both were silent, as they sipped their martinis.

  Then, abruptly, he said, “Let’s order.”

  “Yes, let’s. I’m starved.”

  He jumped up slightly in his chair.

  “What was that about?” She asked.

  “My beeper just vibrated and caught me off guard,” he said looking at the coded message in his digital display, it read, “2+2 back on.”

  “Everything all right?” She inquired.

  “Just business,” he replied, as he replaced the beeper back on his belt. He interpreted the message to mean that their tail was back on. Two teams of two men each.

  “Must be serious,” she said. “Your demeanor just changed, and you assumed a very no-nonsense look.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just making quick plans about the notification,” he replied. “Forgive me, and let’s get back to our dinner.”