by Lyn Stone
Solange had thought it best that René not be conscious when they arrived. As in the prison, the worse his health seemed, the better it would be for him. At least for now.
One of the men disappeared inside and returned shortly with a distinguished-looking man of around forty. He was dark-haired, black-eyed and his skin color—as did his given name—suggested Mediterranean blood. He was slight of build, though possessing a sort of wiry strength his son had not yet acquired. Solange knew simply by the resemblance in their features that this had to be Ahmed Chari.
The guard with him aimed his weapon directly at Solange's head as Chari approached the car's back door and opened it. His sharp, assessing gaze traveled over his son. Then he asked her, "What has happened to him?"
"He was beaten by the guards at Baumettes Prison. For insolence, so they said when I arrived to treat him. They realized he was of some importance when advised of his identity, and so they brought him to the infirmary to be treated." Solange knew the majority of the prisoners in French jails were Islamic. The places were ter-rorist breeding grounds these days. Perhaps Chari had some influence in those circles. His current activities certainly made that probable. Why had he not used it?
"Will he recover?" Chari asked, hiding his concern as a father rather well, if indeed he had any. Though he was quite handsome, she had never seen a colder countenance on anyone. Merely looking at him gave her a chill.
"Yes, I believe he will eventually," she answered truthfully, "but he has had some internal damage. Surgery was not indicated at the time, but it might well become necessary later if he has continued problems."
"You have been treating him from the first?"
"He suffered alone those first two days before they brought him to the infirmary."
Chari turned to the guards. "Carry the boy inside. Put him in his old room, the nursery on the first floor, and bring in a cot for the doctor." Then he looked at Mercier. "Get rid of him."
"Wait!" Solange cried. "He saved René's life! It was he who overpowered the guard responsible for your son's beating! Is this how you reward his good deed?"
Chari looked at her as if really seeing her for the first time. She almost shivered under his regard. "What is this man to you?" he demanded.
"Nothing at all," Solange declared. "But he did save your son's life and I simply do not believe you should kill a man for doing you so great a favor!"
"Kill him, Doctor? I merely wanted him sent away." Slowly Chari shifted his attention back to the object of their conversation. "So who are you and what offense sent you to the prison?"
"Jacques Mercier. They say I was involved in receiving stolen weapons, but..." he let his voice taper off with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Get on the radio, Piers, and contact Vaughn in Marseilles. See if this man is lying. If he is not, bring him to my study."
With that, Chari walked back into the house and disappeared. Solange's frantic gaze connected with Mercier's. Neither spoke, but the look he gave her betrayed a brief hint of gratitude and even a little surprise. Her own expression must have been wild-eyed with fright, though she was trying hard not to show how terrified she felt.
Two more men came out carrying a frayed and faded litter that might have been scavenged during World War II. Gently, at her direction, they transferred René from the back seat of the car onto the carrier.
She reluctantly abandoned Mercier to his fate as she accompanied her patient into his father's house. One of the guards gave a cursory check for weapons hidden beneath her clothing and then plundered more carefully through her medical bag. Satisfied, they left her alone with René. She tried not to let herself wonder whether she would ever be allowed outside the house again in her lifetime. Or if Jack Mercier would ever see the inside of it during his.
Later, after suffering a humiliating and thorough body search and waiting for Piers to make his phone call to Marseilles, Jack relaxed a little. He was inside. Next step accomplished.
He attempted to put all thoughts of Solange Micheaux out of his mind when he arrived in Chari's study. She was in even more danger than he had worried she would be. He had figured Chari would be a little more grateful for his son's survival and that he would treat Solange with some respect because of her part in that. Apparently, the man had little in the way of paternal feelings and no kind regard at all for females.
Jack now wished he had opened that car door in Tournade, shoved her out forcefully, then sped off before she knew what had happened. Right now she'd be under no threat whatsoever if he'd done that.
But then again, he could be dead now if she had not come along. If she hadn't interceded with Chari, he'd probably be out in one of those fields with a little dirt kicked over him.
"Sit down, Mercier," Chari instructed. "Cigar?"
Jack reached forward and took one. He hated the stinking things, but some men thought smoking them together was a bonding experience. If Chari were one of those men, Jack certainly did want to accommodate him. A little bonding was needed right about now.
"Drink?" Chari offered, gesturing lazily with one hand at the sideboard.
Two fancy decanters stood there wearing a coat of dust. Did Chari practice the religion that forbade it or was he just careful not to let alcohol fuzz up his brain? In either case, Jack wasn't about to break any unspoken rules.
"No, thanks. Never touch it."
Chari smiled his approval. "Good. We should get down to business. Tell me about these weapons you have allegedly imported."
Jack shrugged and took a puff of the cigar before he answered. "A man called Jurin hired me to pick up a delivery in Narbonne. I drove there, went where he directed me to go. The police were waiting. They hauled me in along with the men who had actually had possession of the shipment when they arrived. I was in Baumettes awaiting trial. You know how that goes."
"Unfortunately." Chari picked a speck of tobacco off his lip with his fingernail. "How did you come to rescue René?"
"I saw the guards knocking him around. He looked like a kid who didn't need to be where he was. When I got a look at his doctor, I figured she didn't need to be there, either. So...since I had no love at all for the bastard who used his fists on children, I took him out. Then I took them with me." He smiled. "I was going anyway, you see."
"You had to have help. Baumettes is fairly secure, but even I could not find a way to liberate René."
Jack somehow doubted he had tried all that hard. Will Griffin had encountered no problem in bribing the right people. Be that as it may, Chari was the one Jack had to deal with right now. And he had to convince Chari he would be a valuable asset.
"You're right. I did have someone on the outside. He crossed a few palms, got the right key, the right vehicles."
"Where is he now?"
Jack smiled. "I had no further use for him."
"How did you find your way here?" Chari asked. "The work I am doing requires solitude. I have made certain that few people know my address."
"René mentioned the location when he was delirious with fever," Jack lied. "I hoped that out of gratitude you might offer me a position here."
"And how would you know what sort of business I am in and what work might be available?"
Jack sighed and rolled the cigar between his fingers. He met Chari's gaze directly and smiled. "I understand you make films. I confess I have not seen any of them, but I am not much acquainted with the arts."
"The last was well received in Cannes four years ago," Chari informed him with a haughty sniff.
Jack almost laughed. The film had tanked miserably and the public screening had proved a joke. Chari had delusions of grandeur that made Napoleon seem modest.
"I've heard that you live a reclusive life. Whatever it is you are doing now, I can ensure that you remain undisturbed."
Chari nodded. "Do you trust this helper you hired for the escape not to have followed you here?" Chari watched him carefully, his eyes narrowed. "I do not wish more unexpected company."
"No. Where is the man who helped you?"
"I do not believe in loose ends," Jack said. The pin-ball dropped in place. Jack could almost hear the ka-ching declaring him a winner with the only correct answer.
"Perhaps I could use a man of your...experience," Chari said, though he still wore the suspicious look Jack figured he'd been born with.
"You need not worry that the police will come here seeking the boy. As far as the authorities know, we are headed out of the country. We will have been observed and reported."
"By someone else who could change a story and betray you. I believe you have too many accomplices," Chari declared.
"No, this was just an acquaintance who owed me a favor. She made a phone call for the false report, but has no idea where I am at present." Jack smiled. "I try to plan for all contingencies."
"You are hired."
"Thank you. How is the pay?"
"Excellent once the job is complete. You won't need it before then." Chari stood, a sign that the conversation was finished as far as he was concerned.
Jack had a sneaky feeling Chari never intended to issue any paychecks when his project was over. In view of that, he thought he might as well risk making a better deal with the new boss. Maybe come to an arrangement that might offer Solange more safety.
"One more thing," Jack said boldly.
"Yes?"
"I'll settle for half pay, get rid of any...loose ends you have dangling when you've done whatever it is you're up to. Also I will make certain you're not followed if you decide to change locations."
"And what would secure your generosity in this regard?" Chari asked slyly. "A little medical attention, perhaps?"
Jack grinned and stubbed out his cigar in the lead crystal ashtray on Chari's desk. "Precisely. Have we an agreement?"
"Sounds reasonable. You calm her fears, see that she takes care of the boy and make her enjoy her stay well enough that she won't make any attempt to leave or contact anyone. If she does, you are to prevent it and then dispose of her immediately. Can you do that, Merrier?"
"Of course. I assume you are not interested in her yourself, then?" He needed to make certain of that. If Chari made any move on Solange, Jack knew he would have to kill him, even if it blew the mission. He would just have to perform whatever damage control he could after that.
Chari frowned. "She is beautiful, but I dislike women who believe themselves intelligent. I detest the ones who really are."
Jack laughed as if it were a joke, but he knew better. Chari was speaking with conviction at this point. "She's smart all right."
"Has she any experience in a laboratory?" Chari asked, idly tapping the ash off his cigar, fastidiously extending his smallest finger.
Jack shrugged, not really wanting to seem too curious. "I could ask her. We aren't all that well acquainted. Yet," he added meaningfully.
"Do so. She might be able to assist with what I have initiated if you could persuade her to cooperate. Find out what you can about her experience and report to me in the morning. Meanwhile, make yourself useful. See Piers for your accommodation and the schedule for the day."
Jack nodded. "He is your second in command, is he not?"
"Very observant, Mercier. Tell him to give you the old au pair's room that is adjacent to my son's. The woman may visit you, but she is to sleep on her cot in the room with René."
Jack sauntered out. He wanted to run directly to Solange and see that she was all right, but he knew better. Instead, he searched out Piers, the only one of Chari's goons who appeared to have any brains to go with his brawn.
He found him in the kitchen stirring a huge pot of soup. "Smells wonderful," Jack said. "Since we got so intimately acquainted with that body search, I hope I can charm you out of a bowl of that later on."
Piers grunted. It could have been a chuckle. Jack leaned over the stove and inhaled deeply, his eyes closed. "Tarragon, eh? Confess, you were once a chef."
"If I may offer you a bit of free advice, Mercier? Speaking the first thought that enters your head can be lethal in this place."
Piers sounded less provincial than the other men Jack had encountered here. Like Chari, he seemed much better educated than the rest.
The calluses on the outer edges of his hands betrayed training in martial arts. Those on the tips of the fingers of his left hand indicated he was probably a guitarist. The spices he used in the soup—several more than the tarragon Jack had mentioned—revealed the man had more than a rudimentary interest in cuisine. A real Renaissance man, this one.
He looked to be somewhere between thirty-five and forty, and dressed much the same as the other guards in jeans and long-sleeved pullovers, topped with a pocketed vest. Clips for his weapons were just visible, peeking above the edge of the pockets like naughty gremlins.
Jack wondered where to obtain the uniform of the well-dressed terrorist around here. He felt out of place in his grim blue prison uniform, but didn't imagine he would be allowed to go shopping right away. The thought of asking made him smirk a little.
Piers frowned at that, probably wondering what he was up to. Jack decided he'd better alleviate that curiosity. "Mr. Chari said you should give me orders as to my activities and then direct me to the room next to René's where I'll be staying."
"Fine. Dinner is at eight."
"Evening attire?" Jack quipped.
Piers chuckled.
"Seriously, I could use some other clothes if there are any available." Jack plucked at his collar and grimaced.
Piers continued stirring his soup. "On the way to your room, we will stop by mine. We are the same size."
So they were. That was good for the clothes issue. Not good if they ever squared off hand to hand, which they might in the near future if Jack could not secure a weapon before the big showdown.
"You will take the evening watch on the roof from nine to midnight," Piers told him. "If you sight anything moving, you are to alert the others. When it is time, I will furnish you a handset, programmed to the correct frequency, and night vision goggles."
He put down his long-handled spoon, carefully resting the bowl of it on a saucer, then wiped his hands on a dish towel. "Come with me."
Jack felt the punch of relief that always came with a successful infiltration. Chari suspected nothing and would accept him as one of the hirelings. No problem there.
The only thing that worried Jack now was ensuring that Solange had a purpose as far as Chari was concerned.
Once René was well, unless she had another task to complete for him, their host might see her as excess baggage.
In one way it was fortunate that Chari had suggested she work in the laboratory. At least Jack hadn't had to suggest it himself. On the other hand, Jack could hardly stand to think of allowing her into the potentially dangerous facility.
He had never wrestled with this kind of apprehension when Holly embarked on a dangerous aspect of a mission. Even when Maribeth had gone undercover on the job, he hadn't been this on edge.
They had been well-trained operatives, of course. Maybe that was why. They were as prepared as they could be.
But his gut told him that was not it. Solange had touched something inside him no one else had ever reached.
Chapter 4
Solange heard voices in the next room. She pressed her ear against the door and listened, recognizing one of the men as Mercier. A huge wave of relief washed over her. She had begun to fear that her intervention on his behalf had proved unsuccessful after all.
She waited for at least a quarter hour after she heard the other man leave and close the door. Figuring he'd had plenty of time to go elsewhere in the house and not overhear her talking to Mercier, she then opened the door and quietly slipped inside the room.
"Solange?" Mercier exclaimed as he exited the door facing the one she had entered. His hair was wet, his week's worth of beard shaved. And he stood there naked as the day he was born.
She blinked hard, but found she was unable to keep her eyes shut. Solange had seen more than her share of male bodies in her time, but this one blew her doctor's detachment away completely. Perhaps it was the way he moved, his well-honed muscles flexing with a silent strength and grace that piqued both admiration and fascination. His was not a physique built for show, but for action. For use. The very thought made her shiver with anticipation.
"I...I suppose I should have knocked."
"That's all right," he said, sounding unaffected by the intrusion, "since we're destined to be lovers. You might as well see what you're up against."
Lovers? Shock would have kept her silent even if he hadn't raised a finger to his lips in warning. He walked toward her, wrapping a towel around his waist as he moved.
Solange came to her senses and backed up a step just as he reached her.
He beckoned her closer, then placed one hand on her shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "They are listening. Follow my lead." Then he stood away and said in a normal voice, "Don't look so surprised, Doctor. A woman such as you cannot go unclaimed for long in a houseful of men. If you remain unattached, it could cause trouble in the ranks."
She cleared her throat, trying to focus on anything other than him. The room in which they stood provided little in the way of distractions. The plaster was cracked, the paint peeling in places. The furniture consisted of a table, a chair and a large double bed.
She forced her gaze back to Mercier rather than look at that item. "I am here only to improve René's health. Suppose I do not wish to become...involved with you?"
He smiled. It totally changed his countenance and Solange couldn't tear her gaze away. "Ah, but you do wish it," he said in a seductive growl. "A man knows these things. You want me. I can see it in those gorgeous blue eyes."
Eyes which she now rolled at such blatant boasting. Could he see it? Was he serious?
He pulled a comical face and pinched her shoulder gently to show that he was merely acting. "Come now, Solange. Be reasonable. Kiss me as you did last night, hmm? You were not so haughty then, eh?"