by Cole Reid
“What message?” asked Arthur.
“Someone is trying to kill me,” said Georgia.
“Who?” asked Arthur.
“I don’t know, Sir,“ said Georgia, “But I think Patrick is dead and some of the others are dead also.”
“The King of Diamonds told you this,” said Arthur.
“No, Sir,“ said Georgia, “He didn’t tell me anything. I’m saying I received a package from someone identified as him.”
“Do you know if he sent the package?” asked Arthur.
“I don’t,” said Georgia, “But I know someone is following me.”
“How do you know that?” asked Arthur.
“Events,” said Georgia.
“What events?” asked Arthur.
“As soon as I arrived in Paris, I received a package,” said Georgia, “It said it was from him, the King of Diamonds, and to meet him in Le Havre. I went to Le Havre and he didn’t show up at the meeting spot. But someone wanted met at that spot. I know because it was a closed restaurant. I realized that and I left Le Havre.”
“Why did you leave the city?” asked Arthur.
“Because the King of Spades is missing,” said Georgia, “That’s why you sent me to Paris. I figured if someone killed him and they knew I would be sent to investigate, they could target me as well. When I got back to Paris I heard about a shooting in Le Havre. It was all over the news. That happened the same day I was there. You must have seen the news.”
“I did,” said Arthur.
“Do you know what that means, Sir?” asked Georgia.
“Why don’t you tell me what you think it means,” said Arthur, “You’re the one in the field. I trust your eyes and ears better than mine here.”
“We are compromised, Sir,” said Georgia, “I’m talking about Full House. Somehow it’s been compromised.”
“That a strong supposition,” said Arthur.
“Sir,” said Georgia, “It’s the only supposition.”
“Why?” asked Arthur.
“How else would anyone know of these links?” said Georgia, “Hagan, Patrick, me. There is only one link between us, Sir. And it’s not from playing tee ball at the Y, when we were kids.”
“So you don’t think the package sent to you was from Hagan,” said Arthur.
“Maybe,” said Georgia, “But whoever it was, wanted to get me out in the open. And they knew about the link between me and Hagan. Why else would I obey? Why would I go meet Hagan? Someone knew why and they tried to exploit that link. Sir, Full House is compromised. You have to extract the others, where ever they are.”
“That would take time,” said Arthur, “But I’ll come. We’ll sort this out.”
“Thank you, Sir,” said Georgia, “But, Sir, you should not tell anyone you’re coming to France. If we are compromised, it won’t be safe.”
“I appreciate your concern,” said Arthur, “Where are you at the moment?”
“I’m in a hospital in Bourges,” said Georgia.
“Hospital?” said Arthur, “Why are you in a hospital in Bourges?”
“I left Paris,” said Georgia, “I thought it would be too easy to locate me there so I came to Bourges.”
“Smart,” said Arthur, “But how did you end up in the hospital?”
“I was staying at a cheap hotel near the rail station,” said Georgia, “I thought it would be a better place to hide than the nice hotels in the city center. I dressed with cheap stocking and ankle boots and red lipstick to look like, like a prostitute.”
“Why would you do that?” asked Arthur.
“There are a lot in the area. I thought of it as a great cover,” said Georgia, “It worked better than I wanted it to.”
“How’s that?” asked Arthur.
“I went to a grocery store to buy food and was walking back to my hotel and I was mugged,” said Georgia, “They called me a whore and they took me in the alley and kicked me and stole my purse but left the groceries. They must have been thinking I was carrying lots of cash.”
“Probably, you did just come from buying groceries. And prostitutes deal in cash. When it rains, it pours,” said Arthur, “I’ll come. Don’t go back to the hotel. You didn’t use an identifying name when you registered in the hospital did you?”
“No, Sir,” said Georgia.
“Good,” said Arthur, “Ok, stay in the hospital. I’ll find you…”
“Sir,” said Georgia, “I was wondering about new credit cards. I don’t have anymore resources. They were all stolen when I was mugged. The rest are back in the Paris flat.”
“Don’t worry,” said Arthur, “I’ll take care of that. Just stay in the hospital till I arrive. I’ll pay the bill. Just stay there.”
“Yes, Sir,” said Georgia. Georgia spent the next two full days bedridden. The hospital was worried about her ribs. They didn’t want her to move around. Georgia was worried about her condition. She didn’t want her muscles to get weak. She had improved her conditioning during her stay at Chateau Constance. She couldn’t measure her conditioning and compare it to when she was training at Harvey Point. The vineyard at Constance wasn’t a measured course. She could time her progress up and down the rows of the vineyard but she could only compare it to her previous times running the vineyard. She didn’t run vineyards at Harvey Point. The one constant was her time dropping. She got faster each week at Harvey Point. The same was true about running the vineyard at Constance, faster each week. She could feel her muscles becoming flat against the bed. She could smell the lack of muscle definition setting in. It felt like rigor mortis. Which didn’t make her feel like an agent in play.
Chapter Fifteen Agent in Play
Georgia knew Arthur wouldn’t send someone to kill her in a hospital. There were too many witnesses. The halls were full of staff and visitors. A nurse checked in on her regularly and he would have to register himself as a visitor. And the biggest problem of all, was one Simone had laid down for him. She had chosen the playground, Bourges. Bourges wasn’t a big city, less ways to escape; less people on the street; less crowds to get lost in. The population of the city of Bourges was between seventy and eighty thousand. It would be too difficult to make a run for it in Bourges. People would notice you running. It showed Arthur’s brilliance in choosing Paris as a killing field. Paris was big. Everything happened in Paris. Anything that happened wouldn’t cause an eye to bat. But Bourges was looking for something to look at. The city wanted to bat an eye. It just didn’t happen that often.
Arthur arrived on the third day after the phone call. By the time he arrived, Georgia was in a room with another woman. There wasn’t much they could say in the open. Arthur came through the door wearing a black windbreaker. It reminded Georgia that it was mid September. The weather was beginning to change. She spent over two months at Constance, the rest of the summer.
“How are you?” asked Arthur. Georgia raised her cast hand.
“I see,” said Arthur.
“Thank you for coming, Sir,” said Georgia.
“We did need to talk,” said Arthur, “Figure this out.”
“We do need to figure this out,” said Georgia.
“There’s time,” said Arthur, “I’m staying at the Bourges Club de Prix in the city center. One of the nice hotels you tried to stay away from.”
“That shows you’re smarter than I am,” said Georgia.
“How’s that?” said Arthur.
“I don’t think anyone’s bound to mug you there,” said Georgia.
“Let’s hope you’re right,” said Arthur, “Any word on when they’ll release you?”
“They wanted me to stay five days,” said Georgia, “Just to give my ribs the time to solidify. Then they’ll let me go day after tomorrow.”
“Ok,” said Arthur, “We’ll talk then. I’ll have a room waiting for you at the Club de Prix. And don’t worry about hospital bill. It’s taken care of.”
“How did you ever get to your position by being so kind?” said Georg
ia.
“By knowing whom to be kind to,” said Arthur winking, “We’ll talk. I left some cash on the books for you when you are released. You have to take your receipt to the cashier and have it stamped before you can get your personals back. The bill is oversubscribed by one thousand francs so they’ll refund that to you. Use it to grab a taxi to my hotel. I’m in the North Suite, top floor.”
“I’ll be a welcome change to a hospital ward,” said Georgia, “Thanks again, Sir.”
“You just get well,” said Arthur, kissing Georgia on the forehead. “We’ll talk.”
•••
Georgia’s instructions were simple and simple to follow. She went to the desk and was given her billing receipt. She took the receipt down the hall to the cashier, feeling like cashing out at a casino. She handed him the stapled papers and he looked them over, stamping each one. He told Georgia there was a credit on her patient account of one thousand francs. He gave her the money in fifties and one hundred in twenties. She went to reclaim her clothes and found her staff nurse to say goodbye.
The taxi to the Club de Prix was eight minutes including stops. Georgia went to the front desk and said she was a guest of the gentleman staying in the North Suite. The woman at the desk made a quick phone call, before showing the direction to the elevators. The hotel was only five floors. All suites were on the top floor. There were eight rooms on all other floors but the top floor only had four, making each suite double the size of a regular room and with a terraced balcony. The suites were marked North, South, East and West. The North Suite was to the right of the elevator. Georgia walked to the door not knowing what to expect. She knocked anyway. Arthur came to the door wearing a white shirt and navy slacks.
“Georgia,” said Arthur, “You look like you.”
“They took the gauge off but please don’t punch me in the nose,” said Georgia.
“Hey,” said Arthur, “No need for that. You’ve already proven you’re tough.”
“Would you like something from the fridge?” asked Arthur.
“Just a Coke,” said Georgia.
“Sure,” said Arthur, “Have a seat.” Georgia sat down on the beige upholstered rolled arm bench that was adjacent to the matching sofa. Arthur came to the sofa and handed a can of cola to Georgia.
“So be frank with me,” said Arthur, “Why have you brought me here?”
“I’ve already said,” said Georgia.
“That’s right,” said Arthur, “Over the phone you mentioned about something’s going on with Full House. My question for you is what exactly do you think is going on?” Georgia popped the tab of her cola and took a sip.
“Can I ask you a question, Sir?” said Georgia.
“Sure,” said Arthur.
“Did you give any of us up?” asked Georgia.
“Why would you ask me that?” said Arthur.
“I think,” said Georgia, “I think you’ve done something.“
“What something?” asked Arthur.
“I don’t know,” said Georgia, “But I have my thoughts.”
“Care to share?” said Arthur.
“Only if you do,” said Georgia.
“Ladies first,” said Arthur.
“Thank you, Sir,” said Georgia, “Something is leaking at Full House. Isn’t it? How could we be compromised so soon? We’re college kids. How can someone be on our trail? How do we get found out so easily? In only a year.”
“Unless I gave you up,” said Arthur, “Am I right?”
“The Peer Program had been deactivated for what? Five years?” said Georgia.
“Eight,” said Arthur.
“All the more telling,” said Georgia, “You’re the one who submitted the proposal to have the program reinstated. That gave you access to a lot of money under new budgeting requirements by Congress. The Agency had more money so you applied for some of it.” Arthur’s eyes fixated on Georgia. She was making an impression.
“And why would I reinstated the program to sabotage it?” said Arthur, “Have you thought about that? It’s my program.”
“Because the program wasn’t the point,” said Georgia, “It was the money.”
“If that’s a complaint about your salary, consider this,” said Arthur, “We were paid much less when I joined.”
“To complain about my salary, I wouldn’t complain to you,” said Georgia.
“That’s the most intelligent thing you’ve said so far,” said Arthur, “Did you figure out so much on your own or did you have help?”
“Wait a minute,” said Georgia, “The biggest was my assignment. It was bullshit. Did the Agency really want those minutes or was it you? There are other ways to figure out what the Soviets were up to in Vietnam.”
“You have to crawl before you can walk,” said Arthur, “Besides your assignment was designed to be indetectable. We didn’t steal that document. We just photographed it. You just located it for us. That was a nice little assignment for your first outing. What? Did you think we would send you after Brezhnev? Come on Georgia. Come on.”
“That’s the cover,” said Georgia, “It was just something to get your feet wet. That was what you planned to say all along. When Full House came under review that was going to be what you said in the hearing. They were young. They needed to have something to get their feet wet.”
“Georgia,” said Arthur, “Are we done with this?”
“No,” said Georgia, “I’m not yet with the period on the end of the sentence.”
“Then can we be done?” asked Arthur. Georgia took a sip of cola.
“Probably not,” said Georgia, “Because the biggest proof is right here.”
“What ?” asked Arthur.
“You,” said Georgia, “You came here, to France. You’re an administrator. Why are you not back at your desk?”
“You forget I was once a field agent also,” said Arthur, “I’m no stranger. The field doesn’t frighten me.”
“You wouldn’t step out of one role back into the other,” said Georgia, “You wouldn’t leave your desk, which I’ve never seen but suppose is nice. You wouldn’t come all this way, just for me.”
“So are you admitting to setting me up?” said Arthur, “To bring me here.”
“You did the same to me,” said Georgia.
“Ridiculous,” said Arthur, “Now I need a drink.” Arthur walked toward the mini fridge. He set a miniature size bottle of Grand Marnier and a second can of Coke on the counter. He found a whisky glass on the shelf next to the fridge. He took something else out of the fridge and set it next to the glass. From across the room, it looked like polished metal. It didn’t have the shape of a flask.
“You know I hate drinking a cocktail without ice,” said Arthur. Georgia casually stood up and walked behind the sofa, toward the edge of the shallow that was relieved for the window. It was a subtle action but it put her upper body out of Arthur’s line of sight. She could hear him pouring the cola. It was a rocky sound not a smooth sound. The smooth sound came next, the cognac.
“I’m giving you a fair shake,” said Arthur, “Usually drinking and marksmanship are at opposites.” Arthur held his drink in his left hand and his polished metal in his right hand. He took a sip.
“This is personal Georgia,” said Arthur, “It’s not a service weapon.” Georgia dipped her head forward for a split second to see what Arthur had in his right hand. It was tiny, a .22 caliber short mini-revolver. It looked feminine in his hand. Georgia realized why Arthur was holding a revolver. The bullet cartridge wouldn’t go flying like with a pistol. He didn’t want to get down on his knees looking to recover the cartridge. It also meant he needed the bullet to go into her and stay there. He didn’t want the bullet or cartridge recovered. It would be easier to dispose of her body without fresh bullet fragments to worry about. Any blood left, he would say it was his, say he got drunk. The sound of the gunshot could be him falling off the bed—the cause of his injury. Georgia’s recognition of events gave her a small window.
She knew Arthur needed a clear torso shot. He couldn’t risk a headshot. The skull was too hard. It could cause the small caliber bullet to split pushing bullet pieces everywhere. He’d have to find the pieces. He would miss some. A gut shot was better, to bury the bullet somewhere in her spine—no exit wound. Georgia realized if she denied him the desired target she might live.
“How good of a shot were you?” asked Georgia.