As Amanda entered the bar heads turned. Jeremy tried, unsuccessfully, to maintain his composure but he was soon fawning over her. They had reserved the best spot in the bar, a three-seater chair with a hooded top that resembled a stylish horse-drawn carriage and looked as if at any moment it might be linked up to a couple of mares and galloped off into the night.
‘That is a rather daring outfit, Amanda.’
‘I wear what I feel comfortable in.’
‘I see. Tell me, do you like Goddard films?’
‘Jean-Luc, the prominent director and pioneer of the New Wave? Of course.’
‘You remind me of the girl in one of his films.’
‘Do you mean “A Bout De Souffle”? I seem to remember she double-crosses her lover and he ends up getting shot!’
Jeremy laughed. ‘I was thinking more of Bardot in “Le Mepris”!’
Amanda soon lost count of how many cocktails she had drunk. She would have guessed it was more than three and less than six, but she didn’t care much. They headed back to their respective hotel rooms to change for dinner. This time Amanda opted for a below-the-knee deep red Dior dress, paired with glittering diamond studs. On her feet she wore a pair of black peep-toe Christian Laboutin kitten heels, the red soles tying the look neatly together. A small burgundy Jimmy Choo evening clutch completed the outfit.
At nine-thirty the two of them entered the glorious Lasserre Restaurant on the Avenue Franklin Roosevelt. The interior was stunning in the grand Parisian style. An elevator transported them up to the resplendent dining area.
Amanda was absolutely ravenous and convinced Jeremy that they should plump for the full eight-course tasting menu. All of the dishes were dancing with colour and everything was very, very French. Each component was presented beautifully and every dish looked like a work of art. Foie gras, one of Amanda’s favourite ingredients, featured more than once.
The meal was punctuated by extras such as amuses bouches of light cauliflower infused with truffle oil. When each course arrived at the table, flanked by a group of elegantly attired waiters, the dishes were hidden by silver plate toppers, which were then removed in unison in a moment of practised drama.
By the end of the meal, in spite of all the delicacies still on offer, Amanda was flagging. They had been eating for almost three hours by that point. Jeremy showed no sign of slowing and was tucking into his cheese with gusto. The cheese trolley itself was wondrous, piled to the brim with soft, aromatic cheeses in between solid and liquid states. They tasted glorious, the potent flavours making their taste buds sing. Finally, though, even Jeremy leaned back in his chair, a contented look on his face. He reminded Amanda of an aristocratic English gentleman from the 1900s, ready to burst out of his dress shirt after a large meal.
As they sipped their coffees together at the end of the meal, dreamy music played in the background. Above all other aspects of this wonderful restaurant the thing Amanda found the most appealing was that the people around them were really enjoying themselves. The restaurant was full of so many interesting characters, all laughing, joking and having fun whilst enjoying great food, wine and company. Eating quickly was something that the French had never seen a reason for. In other cultures you might snatch a quick meal and then head off in search of entertainment for the rest of the night, but in France meals were events in themselves.
Jeremy was as much fun and as warm-natured as ever. Amanda found his relentless optimism immensely endearing. He was someone who created a great positive energy, which in turn brought positivity to those around him. As they sat together chatting, Lasserre’s pièce de résistance was revealed. The roof of the restaurant was drawn back, as if by magic, to reveal the glittering night sky above. The evening, which had been near-perfect up until that moment, was now complete in its perfection.
Amanda gazed in wonder up at the black velvet and diamond expanse above her.
‘You look lost in thought,’ Jeremy observed.
‘This evening has been so wonderful I can hardly believe what we have been through so far.’
‘For now at least, you can relax and enjoy Paris as you deserve to.’
‘I feel as though we deserve the Légion d’honneur after what we’ve been through.’
‘Have you not enjoyed yourself so far?’
‘Yes… a thousand times, yes – but I must admit there have been times during this assignment when I have wanted to return to my simple life, times when I have yearned for the predictability of my old job in investment banking. It may have been hard work, but it certainly didn’t endanger my life.’
‘Amanda, tonight we are in Paris enjoying Michelin-starred food prepared by chefs who care so much about their dishes that each one is a masterpiece And look about you – are we not in truly stunning surroundings? And just a few days ago we were enjoying the sunshine in the south of France. For me, the uncertainty involved makes doing what I do well worth it. I never know what tomorrow has in store – and I wouldn’t have it any other way. So many people are stuck in banal, uninteresting jobs and have to drag themselves through each day, whereas I can say that I genuinely love what I do.’
Amanda met his gaze. His brown eyes contained a richness and depth she had never known the like of. He looked very relaxed at the moment, but she felt strangely safe with him, knowing that he could at once jump into action if danger befell them.
‘Would you like to go for one more drink before we head back?’ Jeremy asked.
‘I would like that very much.’
Jeremy decided to take Amanda to the world-famous Hemingway Bar at the Ritz Hotel, named after the author Ernest Hemingway, who used to frequent it.
They hailed a taxi in the Avenue Franklin Roosevelt and were whisked off in the direction of the Place Vendôme. The driver was a young man with a cheeky smile who told them how his family had originated in Morocco but had now been in Paris for over forty years. He was chatty and good-natured and laughed and joked with them throughout the short journey.
When they reached the hotel they realised they hadn’t got the right change for the fare. Their driver, whose name they had learned was Christophe, volunteered to get change from the doorman at the hotel. Amanda and Jeremy giggled. They were outside one of the grandest hotels in Paris and now a young man kitted out in the most modest street wear had been forced to go and get some change on their behalf!
They tipped Christophe generously and the doorman smiled at them as they entered. The Hemingway Bar itself was a discreet and luxurious place. Typically for the Ritz, it was opulent – yet it was subtler than some other areas of the hotel. The excellent drinks were served in heavy crystal glasses. Some of the ladies’ drinks were accompanied by a single red rose.
Jeremy chose to try a caramel-hued cognac, while Amanda opted for a ruby-red Kir Royale. The bar had a quiet, relaxed ambience and the pair of them sat close together so as to be able to talk privately. They found themselves once again surrounded by amorous couples. In the dim lighting of the bar they were drawn together even further. The conversation was punctuated by episodes where Jeremy would lean close to Amanda’s ear and whisper things he did not want others around them to hear. These whispers became an excuse for Jeremy to get close to Amanda and she did not deny him the opportunity. The one drink each they had intended to have turned into three and as time drifted away it seemed as if they were leaving the rest of the bar behind until there were only the two of them in the entire universe.
Chapter 17
Christophe, the taxi driver, parked just round the corner after dropping Amanda and Jeremy off. He lit a Gauloise and rolled the window down, drawing deeply on his cigarette. He needed a moment of respite before heading back out to pick up the next fare.
CRACK!
Christophe reeled from a sudden blow to the back of his head. Through the pain he realised there was a man in the seat behind him, a man who now grabbed him in a headlock, applying strong pressure to his neck.
‘Where are the couple you pick
ed up?’
‘What couple?’
‘Don’t mess around!’
The man in the rear plucked a cigarette from his own mouth and, still restraining Christophe with one arm around his neck, stubbed it deliberately under the taxi driver’s chin. Christophe yelped.
‘Me..de! What the hell are you doing?’
‘Tell me where you dropped the couple you just picked up.’
‘They are in the Ritz, okay? Now let me go!’
The man behind Christophe laughed coldly and with a firm twist of his hand and arm snapped the young driver’s neck. The lifeless body slumped forward. The killer stepped nonchalantly back onto the street and closed the door. He pulled the cap he was wearing down over his blond hair as he planned his next move.
Amanda was mortified. The glass from which she had just been drinking had slipped from her hand and fallen on the table, splintering in all directions. Small, clear droplets clung to the table like raindrops. A young waiter hurried over and quickly swept up the fragments without saying a word in response to Amanda’s apologies, as if it was not at all an unusual occurrence.
Amanda felt terribly embarrassed and was sure everyone in the bar was looking at her.
Jeremy placed a reassuring arm around her shoulders.
‘Don’t worry it, Amanda.’
‘They might throw me out!’
‘Perhaps you should be more concerned about the attention you are drawing to us. Aren’t we supposed to be undercover?’ he quizzed, laughing.
The evening has passed so quickly. It was already four a.m. Fatigue hit Amanda suddenly and she found herself fighting to keep her eyes open.
Place Vendôme was enveloped in darkness and quiet as they came out. They made the short walk back to their hotel, where the doorman let them in, but the concierge desk was empty. Jeremy walked Amanda to her room. Her stilettos had begun to hurt her feet by this point and she was finding it increasingly difficult to hobble the last remaining steps along the corridor of floor three to her room. Jeremy supported her across the threshold. Once inside the room Amanda collapsed onto the antique sofa in the ante-room of the suite.
Jeremy gently divested her feet of the heels and was unable to resist running his eyes down the length of her shapely feminine legs.
Amanda yawned. ‘It’s very late. Would you like one more espresso for the road?’
‘I would love one.’
Amanda dialled room service and asked for two coffees to be sent up. ‘Would you mind waiting a moment,’ she said to Jeremy. ‘I desperately need to freshen up.’
‘Of course not, take as long as you like.’
Amanda went to the bathroom and ran herself a devastatingly hot shower. The Annick Goutal gel de bain douche caressed her body with its richly scented lather. When she returned to the room she was clad only in the soft thick fabric of a white Egyptian cotton bath robe, her hair lightly moist and tied up to reveal her delicate neck and shoulders.
She found Jeremy on the sofa with two steaming espressos in plain white china cups and saucers on the coffee table in front of him. He looked up as she came in and couldn’t take his eyes off her. The vapours from the coffee rose silently in the air and he secretly urged them to form wispy hands whose digits would beckon her towards him.
Amanda nestled into the sofa a slight distance apart from Jeremy and breathed in the aroma of the coffee before taking her first sip and feeling it trickle down the back of her throat, warming her deliciously inside. The sexual tension between them was palpable, swelling to fill every inch of the room. Amanda felt that if she made just one move they would be drawn together like magnetised polar opposites and it would take great strength to pry them apart.
Jeremy downed his espresso in one, like a shot of liquor. The hairs pricked up on the back of his neck.
‘The more I learn of you the more intrigued I become,’ he murmured.
Amanda’s clear round bright blue eyes shone like seawater. Jeremy saw in them an ocean of possibility and depth. Jeremy’s own eyes seemed shiny and reflective to Amanda, brown as cocoa.
Jeremy’s gaze was attracted to a wet strand of hair resting above Amanda’s brow. A droplet of moisture was suspended from it and even as he watched it dropped and landed above her lip on the right-hand side of her mouth. Almost without thinking about it, he reached out a hand and wiped her lip dry with his finger. The touch of her skin sparked a fire deep inside him. His heartbeat quickened and he found himself both unwilling and unable to remove his finger. Amanda drew a quick breath. She felt suddenly dizzy and in the grip of emotions she could not control.
Jeremy slipped an arm round Amanda’s waist and pulled her closer. She felt his body against hers, every contour of his muscular form becoming known to her in that moment. Then he pressed his lip firmly against hers and their tongues came into contact, exploring and eager. The movements were natural, like the steps of a dance they both knew.
Amanda felt Jeremy holding her tighter and her own hands began to play over his muscular arms and back. Her whole being felt malleable and ready for his embrace. It felt like every touch of his fingers would leave impressions on her skin, like footprints on clay. She was barely conscious of the robe slipping from her shoulders and falling away. She was balanced upon the precipice of discovery.
SMASH!
Completely without warning there was a tremendous explosion of noise as someone came crashing through the window. Fragments of glass and wood flew across the room. Jeremy and Amanda broke instantly apart, utterly taken by surprise.
The man stood in front of them, gun in hand. Despite her shock, Amanda recognised his face instantly. It was the same man who had so nearly killed them after their car crashed – the man she now knew to be Balthazar Charles.
‘Both of you will put your hands above your heads and your faces to the wall,’ Charles grated.
He smiled to himself. For a wealthy magnate with a sadistic penchant for killing this would be a most pleasurable job. Two gunshots to the temple should do it. It had been far easier than he had expected. At this time of night there would only be few evening staff on duty and he should be able to make his exit without hindrance and as he had come in, via the line he had suspended from the roof of the building. Mexico was nice this time of year, with warm weather and quiet beaches by the sea. He would be able to buy himself a large house. A few bribes would keep the locals quiet about his presence among them if anyone tried to track him down.
Jeremy cursed himself for being caught unawares like this. He could not see a way out of the situation and had utterly failed to anticipate the danger that had been awaiting them. Did the man holding the gun intend to keep them hostage? Did he want information? Could they possibly bargain with him? As the questions raced through his mind he heard the click of the safety catch on the gun being released.
The vulnerable position in which Amanda found herself left her with very few options. Had she had her gun, or even a glass, she could have done something. It seemed hopeless; there was no option but to accept their fate. She heard the click of the safety catch. Was it really all going to end here? She moved closer to Jeremy, her hands still above her head.
It was then that she saw it. Her jacket was on the windowsill right in front of them. It contained a cologne bottle given to her by James. She had just one chance to make use of it.
In one swift gesture she wrenched her jacket off the ledge and swung it with force, still holding one corner, into the radiator, shattering the bottle and instantly filling the room with choking cologne fumes.
The gun fired but the sudden movement had put Charles off his aim and the bullet lodged in the wall beside her. Amanda rolled sideways and in the confusion Jeremy ducked and then launched himself low across the floor at their would-be assassin. At the last moment he rose to direct an uppercut towards the chin of his target.
Charles himself was well trained in the art of combat; it was part of the territory of the job. He blocked the uppercut and quickly del
ivered a forceful sideways punch of his own, but only succeeded in striking Jeremy’s left arm. Jeremy aimed several more blows, but all were blocked. Similarly the assassin was unable to land his assaults on Jeremy or get another shot off. It seemed like stalemate, but then Jeremy lost his balance as he stepped backwards on some debris from the broken window and almost toppled over. Charles struck him hard with the butt of the gun and Jeremy landed heavily upon the floor.
A demonic smile stole over the assassin’s face as he levelled the gun at him.
‘Jeremy, hold your breath!’ Amanda instructed, quietly but urgently.
Jeremy clapped his hand over his mouth and nose and in the same moment, even as the hitman began to apply pressure to the trigger, the full force of the vapour hit him. He gasped, choking and spluttering and holding his throat as his body hit the floor.
Jeremy rose unsteadily to his feet and dragged Amanda away from the range of the fumes. ‘Amanda, I must get to the manager before the other staff get involved. This needs to be covered up by SVHQ. We can’t risk a media circus.’
‘Okay, go ahead. I’ll wait here.’
‘No, come with me. I don’t want you staying here with him.’
The motionless body on the floor was still a source of terror in spite of the assassin being rendered unconscious and Amanda didn’t argue. It was the thought of his absolute intent to harm them, without a trace of compassion, that frightened her more than anything. Before leaving the suite, Jeremy took the precaution of handcuffing the assassin to the radiator pipe, then placed the key in the inner breast-pocket of his jacket.
When they reached the front desk Jeremy asked to see the manager as calmly as he could. The manager turned out to be a stunning and formidable-looking woman named Elodie.
‘Oui, monsieur? Can I help you?’
‘Yes, we need to talk to you in private.’
Moments later they were sitting in the manager’s office with the door firmly shut.
Amanda: Tales of an international female spy Page 11