by Lyn Stone
She laughed merrily, as if they weren't confined in a quarter acre of weeds guarded by machine guns. Her resilience amazed him.
"Were your parents strict?" she asked.
Jack smiled at the memories that question brought. "Not at all. I was a free spirit and ran a bit wild. Dad is a doctor, an internist. My mother was a teacher. High school French. She does a lot of volunteer work now. They were both always so busy, they sort of left me to my own devices. I loved it."
"You were very popular during your school days, were you not? A 'hail fellow well met' as the English say?"
"A loner, always," Jack admitted. "I had many friends, yes. But I found it difficult to exchange anything of much importance with them. I guess you might say they were more like acquaintances."
"You were married," Solange said gently. "Your Maribeth, surely she was a close friend."
Had she been? Jack thought about it, then shook his head. "I suppose she was in a way. There were still things we never shared. We were a lot alike. Same background, same education, same training, same job."
"Much in common," Solange observed. "An excellent basis for a marriage. More important than love, I believe."
"Do you?" Jack asked, increasingly interested in what she thought about that. "And you, Solange? Have you ever taken the plunge?"
She smiled sadly. "No. Not into marriage, not even into love. Once upon a time I thought I might have both, but it was not to be."
"What happened?" Jack asked, drawing her down onto a bench at the opposite end of the garden from where René lay sleeping in the sun.
"We simply did not suit," she told him. He could see the honesty in her eyes. And also the hurt.
Whoever the man was, whatever he had done, Jack had a sudden urge to throttle him. "Tell me his name."
Her eyebrows rose, and she smiled hesitantly. "Why would you want to know?"
Jack smiled back. "I would like to thank him for being the idiot that he is. Otherwise I might never have met you. No husband in his right mind would have allowed his wife to work in a prison hospital. To tell the truth, I'm shocked that your father allowed it."
Her sudden frown and tightening of lips told Jack he had made a serious faux pas.
She drew in a sharp little breath, and when she spoke, her words snapped like firecrackers. "How many times must I tell you? I make my own decisions."
He couldn't argue with that. "So you do," he said, nodding emphatically. "Some of them questionable, but firm and unshakable. I can certainly vouch for that."
She got up from the bench and started across the garden, her stride that of a woman with purpose. That's what she was, delicate or not, a woman with purpose.
That thought reminded Jack that he had an assignment of his own to complete, one in which she had virtually blackmailed him into including her.
There was nothing he could do to get her out of it now, short of sacrificing the most important aspect of it.
She had become way too important to him already, a serious distraction he could not afford, yet one he couldn't possibly ignore.
Solange found it impossible to remain angry with Jacques. She knew he worried about her safety and could hardly resent his concern. If only he would stop talking about it, perhaps she could forget it herself for a few minutes.
It did bother her that he seemed to think she was helpless, little more than a millstone around his neck. But then, men generally did underestimate her because of her appearance.
More often than not her deceptive fragility had proved an advantage to her, but she wished Jacques could look past that and be different.
In so many other ways he was vastly different. There was an awareness, a core of supreme self-confidence, a quality that not only invited but demanded trust.
René obviously admired him. She could see it clearly every time the boy looked at him. Even Chari had begun to confide in Jacques. That quality was a valuable weapon when he wished it to be, she realized.
She spent what was left of the afternoon reading. René had quite a collection of paperbacks, mostly adventure novels. It seemed he was a great fan of Ian Fleming, whom Solange had never before had time to read. It amused her to cast Jacques in the role of Fleming's hero.
If only his heroines were not so interchangeable, she thought with a grimace.
"What is the matter?" René asked her. "You do not like that one?"
Solange smiled at him. "Yes, of course. It's fascinating. I must admit your taste in books surprises me, René. Given your interests, I would have guessed you would choose something different, biographies of famous artists or the like. Perhaps the classics."
He shrugged his shoulder and closed the dog-eared novel he had been reading. "These were Father's. I appropriated them from the rubbish bins when I was much younger."
His grin took on a gleam of mischief. "I used to play at being a spy for France, as Bond was for England. I discovered all manner of secrets about my teachers, though it was more of a personal nature than political."
"What a scamp you must have been. I wonder they didn't ship you home from school."
The gleam in his eyes died and he ducked his head. He said nothing.
Solange noted the sad vulnerability in the set of his slender shoulders. Though he did not say anything in response to her teasing, she guessed precisely what he was feeling.
He had no mother, had lost both the grandparents who loved him, and Chari had sent him away when he was still very young. Holidays home from school must not have proved pleasant.
He had created for himself a fantasy life where he was considered vitally important.
Could it be that he had fabricated this tale of the toxin and reported it to the authorities to exact a bit of revenge? Could his father merely be a paranoid recluse who hired armed guards to protect his privacy?
However, that would leave unaccounted for those odd shipments of supplies. Those purchases had been verified by outside sources after René had informed the authorities. Also, there was obviously a laboratory in operation on the premises. Chari had already admitted that.
No, René had not lied.
She would find the extent of his truth soon enough.
Jacques had assured her that Chari wanted her to assist in some way with the research.
What if she turned out to be as helpless as Jacques feared she was? She had never done anything like this before in her life.
Solange looked down at the book she held in her hands and fanned through the pages, watching as they riffled past her thumb.
Was she, like René, attempting to create a fantasy life of her own by forcing her way into this dangerous intrigue?
One thing she did know: there would be no closing of the book for a break on this one until it was over. And the resolution was in no way guaranteed.
And another thing to consider: loving James Bond never boded well for the heroine in the long term. In his next adventure there was always a new one.
Chapter 7
That evening after their walk in the garden, the atmosphere changed. It was almost as if the air held an electrical charge, a warning that lightning was about to strike.
This was it. Jack never discounted the revved-up feeling he always experienced when things were about to break or at least take a very important turn. Chari had called him in for another private talk.
He hoped he was right that this would be a turning point, because the waiting around was taking its toll on him as well as Solange, even more so since they had made love.
That had been a gigantic mistake on his part, thinking he could use that to calm her. Maybe release a little tension himself at the same time.
In her eyes he could see her confusion as clearly as he felt his own. Something more had happened in that bed than sex between two people who needed it.
But that was a problem they would have to resolve later. There was too much going on to deal with it now. Even if they had the time, they didn't have enough distance to think logically
about this.
"It is crucial that my work here remain totally confidential," Chari was telling Jack now. "This is why no one other than Piers is allowed outside the chateau unaccompanied. Him I know I can trust."
Jack had not asked about the enforced seclusion. Chari was beginning to volunteer information. This was good, working exactly as Jack had hoped. It was almost a courting process, this drawing him out. If Chari played true to form, Jack would have all the details he needed in a matter of days.
They were having another of their little one-on-one chats over cigars in Chari's library. The mandatory summons had come just after supper.
The man seemed hungry for conversation, hopping from one subject to another, discussing current works of fiction, music and films. He touched on current events and politics, but only lightly, as if testing, feeling Jack out about his views on these topics.
Jack offered only observations, never conclusions. He purposely aroused Chad's curiosity with his own lack of opinions or questions.
Anyone coming into a situation like this would naturally be wondering what the big deal was; what the "research" Chari had mentioned Solange could help with was all about.
"Understandable," Jack said. "Security is essential to most creative endeavors." He tapped his ash and relaxed back into the leather wing chair.
Chari smiled and Jack smiled back. They might have been two gentlemen farmers discussing the state of the weather.
The silence extended as they sipped strong coffee, puffed on the stogies and Chari waited for Jack to risk commenting further on the reasons for the isolation at the chateau.
He didn't. Chari expected him to be curious, to drag the story out of him about why all these extreme measures were necessary.
The windows were barred and all exits were securely bolted and welded shut except for main entrance in front and the door to the kitchens. Those were guarded both by cameras and guards working in pairs. No phones were in evidence anywhere, even here in the study that was Chari's private domain.
"Is the work to your liking?" Chari asked.
"Not taxing at all," Jack assured him.
It was true, he had found his duties light so far, mostly consisting of chores none of the others wanted to do, like making supply lists, doing a few loads of laundry and emptying trash cans. He knew the real task Chari had in mind for him would be eliminating the others once the boss had accomplished his scheme and got ready to break up housekeeping.
The whole setup was nothing like what French intelligence sources collected on them had indicated. Most of that consisted of erroneous assumptions constructed on appearance alone, and that, from a distance. They were all of dark complexion, well armed and looked like terrorists.
They were that, of course, but this was no politically based cell of hard-core believers out to abolish Western decadence. Jack didn't think any of Chari's hired men held any typically Middle-Eastern beliefs. Based on their conversations with each other and with Jack, they certainly had not been steeped in that culture.
Chari came closest to the profile, being half Iranian and half French, son of an expatriot from Tehran and a French journalist who hailed from Tournade.
René had filled in the gaps for Jack during one of their little talks. While working in Paris, studying at the Sorbonne, Chari and René's mother had married. She had already begun her career in film.
He had acquired a little notoriety when his movie had a controversial and rather dismal screening in Cannes several years ago. Though not a popular person in the film community, people did know his name. He had appeared in the news at the time.
Though it was not exactly public knowledge that he had returned to this particular house, his in-laws' old family home, he was reported to live in seclusion.
Nobody had minded that Chari was now a recluse until he had initiated what might be a very profitable hobby, one that had nothing at all to do with the movies. Now French intelligence, as well as select individuals working for the American Government, did mind. Very much.
"As I've said before, you possess qualities I did not recognize at first meeting, Mercier. You seem very confident. Certainly well educated. Piers says that you perform your assigned duties in an exemplary manner and have tendered some enlightening suggestions to improve security."
"This is not my first job," Jack admitted, but stopped short of offering any further information about himself.
"You have met the others, of course." Chari looked up and shook his head, his expression disparaging. Again, waiting for, almost encouraging Jack to ask questions.
"Yes. And Piers is an excellent cook."
He must be a professionally trained chef, in fact, given his habits in the kitchen.
Jack had overheard the guards called Todi and Edouard grumbling to each other in Italian. Vincent and Martin, who also paired off, rarely spoke to anyone else, but said enough that Jack had detected their sing-song island French.
These men were hired muscle from out of country, what the Europeans called guest workers, and—with the possible exception of Piers—obviously had no idea what they were protecting.
They didn't look scared enough.
Chari smiled again, sighing as he stubbed out his cigar and stood. "The woman. Our little doctor. Did you find her agreeable?"
Jack nodded, realizing he was about to be dismissed. He put out the stinking cigar and got up, preparing to leave as he answered. "Quite agreeable. She is quiet, but that suits me."
"Loud women offend me, as well," Chari agreed. "However, I was inquiring as to whether you had determined if she would be willing to lend a hand to the research I am doing."
Ah, the awaited invitation.
Jack simply nodded. "She will do as I say. Her need to please is her greatest weakness."
"Have you discovered whether she has any background in medical research?" Chari demanded. He looked a little piqued, probably because he had not been able to listen in on the activities and conversations between Jack and Solange beyond that first, staged love-making session.
"A little experience, so she says. Before his retirement, she assisted her father in his laboratory. He was involved in a minor way with the experiments dealing with HGH or something similar. Human growth hormones useful in antiaging formulas, I believe she said. A sort of sideline for him." This lie would be hard to disprove even with a background check, Jack hoped.
"That will probably suffice. She will have to move into the tower when she begins," Chari said, setting up the opportunity for Jack to ask about that part of the house.
He didn't. "Then, so will I, if you want her to do what you say." Jack shrugged. "Or simply leave us where we are."
Chari tensed, his eyes narrowed, his hands fisted. "You dare issue me this ultimatum? Keep you together or else?"
"No, sir," Jack answered with only a slight touch of subservience. "But you see it is not just anyone, but I whom she wishes to please. It was your idea for me to exert my control over her. That I've done, and as far as I can determine, there is no other leverage available to gain her cooperation except her feelings for me."
Chari laughed, at ease again. "Not troubled with humility, are you, Mercier?"
"Not in the least. So, do we move or stay where she can also tend your son?"
There were others who lived in the tower that Chari had declared off-limits. Based on what he'd observed, Jack figured there were at least two people living there, not more than three. These would be the brains Chari had hired to do the real dirty work. Chemists? Doctors? Scientists?
Jack could hardly stand to think of Solange being exposed to their company, much less the dangerous nature of their duties. He couldn't afford to dwell on that increasing fear for her or he would terminate the mission too soon. He almost had.
One thing he had verified: Chari's motive was not political or ideological. It was definitely greed. He had zoned in on almost as rapid a way to make a fortune as winning a national lottery. And the payoff would probably be simi
lar to that.
The question was, to what degree had the venture succeeded? Had he made any sales yet? Did he have a supply of the substance stockpiled? And who were his contacts among the groups who might be in the market for it? Once all that had been determined, this place, its contents and everyone involved in the whole nasty enterprise would become history.
The trick was to keep Solange and himself alive long enough to make that happen.
"You will remain where you are for now," Chari said, gesturing toward the door. "Bring her here to me first thing after breakfast tomorrow."
Jack nodded.
"Have you no curiosity at all, Mercier?" Chari asked as Jack was leaving.
He turned and regarded Chari with a non-expression. "None. Good night, sir."
It was ironic, almost to the point of being funny. Chari was dying to tell someone what he was doing, to brag about his scheme and how clever he was, how rich he was going to be. Jack was about to become that confidant.
He pulled his turn at watch, then returned to his rooms. Solange was asleep on her cot, turned away from him. How small she was, how vulnerable, he thought.
René met him at the door and was now urging him into the other room. The minute they were inside it, the boy demanded, "Are you really sleeping with her?"
Jack looked him squarely in the eye. "That is none of your affair, René."
"She is a good person. Why are you using her? I will not allow it!"
Jack sighed. He did not need this complication. "I care for her. I will protect her. So must you. We are in this together, René. You must trust me."
Chari's son treated Jack to a blatant look of disgust. At that instant the son wore all the arrogance of the father. The expression faded, replaced by resignation.
With a shake of his head, René left the room and trudged back to his bed. He sat on the edge and hung his head, looking powerless and dejected. And young, very young. After a few minutes he crawled back into the bed and turned away.