Mercer walked away.
“That leaves me alone with the naval officer,” Marie said and smiled.
“And it leaves me with the attractive French PhD.”
“You flatter me.”
“Just stating the facts, ma’am.”
Jake sipped his beer. It was a local microbrew that left an aftertaste of hops.
“So, tell me what you do in the Navy,” Marie said.
“Pretty much since my last year at the Academy, I’ve committed myself to the dream of commanding a submarine. So I became a submarine officer.”
“I know a man — a close friend, actually — who commanded a French submarine.”
“Do you know how much power a commanding officer has?” Jake asked.
“My friend mentioned that he missed the authority he once had.”
“Did your friend ever tell you any good stories about what it’s like to command?”
“He told me how he loved the power, but he also mentioned that political forces constrained him.”
“True.”
Marie leaned forward.
“I’m sorry, Jake. I cannot hear you.”
Jake motioned that Marie should follow him out of the bar.
At Gamekeepers, Jake drank a pint of LaBatt while Marie sipped from a vodka martini. He talked about his newest hobby of rock climbing.
Marie described the beauty she had seen while hiking between the rustic towns scattered among the wooded hills of the Luberon region. Their conversation flowed for hours.
Jake had suffered weeks of poor spirits, but a beer buzz and an intriguing woman had lightened his heart.
“I would like to hear more about your career,” she said.
“Well, unfortunately, I got assigned to a Trident Missile submarine with a bastard for a captain. It’s been hard.”
“I read Caine Mutiny. Your captain is not named Queeg, is he?”
Jake smiled.
“We call him Ahab. I volunteered Bly and Queeg, but they didn’t stick.”
“They say that absolute power corrupts absolutely,” Marie said.
“My captain proves that theory, but I also know a guy, a really good friend, who commands a submarine and is loved by his men,” he said. “So maybe you can have power and keep your integrity.”
“I understand that a submarine is a good place to wield power,” Marie said. “But if you really want power, then why limit yourself to a submarine? You could influence more people and earn more money by running a company.”
“Good point. But there’s an allure to submarines that you can’t find anywhere else. Picture wielding amazing destructive force in absolute secrecy.”
“I doubt I would like that,” Marie said. “War does not appeal to me. I can only imagine the allure.”
And now, that’s all I can do, he thought.
Marie’s gaze became soft and inviting.
“It’s late, Jake. Would you be willing to escort me to my hotel? I’m new to town, after all.”
Part of him wanted to accept the invitation. Another part resisted. He decided that he would be a gentleman and escort her.
A cab brought Jake and Marie to the Sheraton Towers lobby. He slipped the cabbie a generous tip and led her through the lounge and back into the cool night where they stood before a wall overlooking the Chicago River.
A breeze blew and she shivered. Jake placed his arm around her. He watched with anticipation as her lips moved toward his.
“Wait!” he said and turned his head.
Marie pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I thought you were attracted to me.”
“I am.”
Jake held her.
“A piece of machinery on my submarine blew up and cut me pretty badly. It left me practically impotent.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “But you’re still an interesting person.”
The comment lifted his spirits.
“Can I talk to you again?” he asked.
“Certainly. Why not?”
“Thanks,” Jake said. “I appreciate it.”
“Perhaps we can talk tomorrow. Perhaps even meet for lunch. It’s your decision.”
“Take a cab to Einstein Bros Bagels on Clark Street, by North Avenue. When I’m in town, Grant and I always eat there from about eleven to noon.”
“I will meet you there at eleven.”
CHAPTER 8
Poring over charts in the antechamber of the Taiwanese Minister of Defense, Renard lifted his wireless phone. He was eager to know what Marie had found.
“You’ve discovered something?” he asked.
“Our man claims to have recently become impotent from an accident at sea,” Marie said.
“Unfortunate,” Renard said but felt his lips curling into a cruel smile.
“I did not pry. But by his demeanor, I suspect neglect or even malice in the events surrounding he accident.”
“Is he depressed — anxious?”
“I’m tired,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”
“Please, I have little time.”
She sighed.
“You must continue,” Renard said. “You’re discovering details about this man that can turn him into an ally. You might be finding something of incredible value to me.”
“I thought I was of incredible value to you.”
“Of course you are.”
“Nice to hear it,” she said.
“About our man? His state of mind?”
“He’s perfectly rational and not lacking in self-confidence. In fact, I wondered at times tonight who was seducing whom.”
“Must you tease me?” he asked.
“You deserve it! You use me like a whore and expect me to be your loyal handmaid?”
“Can you forgive me for the time being?”
“Perhaps.”
“Thank you. About our man?”
“He rides an off-road motorcycle, practices tai kwon do, and climbs rocks,” she said.
“Then he does not lack courage. Or bravado. What of his friends and family?”
“He seems to have only a few friends. He told me his father was a CIA officer who died young at the hands of the Chinese. His mother died several years ago. I did not pry for more details.”
“You’ve done very well. Get a suite by the airport and leave word of your coordinates with my assistant in Marseille. I will meet you there as soon as I can, but I have a project here I must finish first.”
“I can get more information from him before I leave.”
“How is that possible?” he asked.
“I have a rendezvous with him tomorrow. I agreed to see him for lunch and coffee.”
“To torment me or to help me?”
“Perhaps I did so with no regard to you whatsoever.”
“You must not show. Leave Chicago tomorrow morning.”
“That’s cruel!” she said.
“If you fail to show, he will blame your absence on his condition and become more frustrated. I need him to feel alienation and isolation in order to exploit him.”
“Do you understand anything but how to manipulate people?” Marie asked.
“I’m cursed with such a gift,” Renard said. “Is our man returning home soon?”
“He was to stay here only during the weekend.”
“Follow him home. I will join you in two days.”
Through the window of Einstein Bros Bagels, Grant Mercer watched huddled pedestrians fight Chicago’s wind. He slurped a latté.
The man across the table stared at a half-eaten cinnamon bagel. Mercer couldn’t remember having seen his friend so despondent.
“She isn’t coming,” Mercer said.
Jake remained stone.