The entertainment center’s black finish swallowed the overhead parlor light. A six-disk compact disk player, DVD player, and a plethora of movies and music covered the center, but she saw too many titles to draw any conclusions about his tastes.
End tables at either arm of an Ikea loveseat held plants and potpourri but no pictures. A coffee table supported generic coasters from a local brewery. The room seemed sanitized of insight into Jake’s history.
Sweeping balls into pockets, she drew the somber conclusion that Jake was too careful to reveal anything about Renard.
He descended the staircase.
“That was fast,” she said.
“Hey, I can take n… quick showers.”
He almost said “navy showers”, she thought. He’s only human. Maybe he will slip up.
“Tommy Hilfiger okay?” he asked.
She grabbed his shirt and nudged her face in it. The scent was invigorating with a jolt of citrus. She smiled and drew him into a kiss. It was their first deep kiss, and taking command of it rekindled her confidence.
He seemed uncertain, even nervous, but he didn’t pull back until she broke contact. She had owned the kiss from start to finish and felt ready to take ownership of him.
“Do I get a kiss after every shower?” he asked.
“You’ll get one every time I think you’ve earned one.”
“How do I earn one?” he asked.
“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”
CHAPTER 6
His thighs burned, but with each step, he gained energy. Despite being HIV-positive, Jake felt invincible. He wondered if he were in love with Olivia.
The twisting dirt path took him by an elderly couple resting against a rock outcropping.
“Bonjour,” he said.
“Good morning, young man. It’s a wonderful morning for a climb,” the old man said in the sunny French of the country’s southern provincial region.
“You must have started at dawn,” Jake said.
“We’ve done this every Sunday at daybreak for forty years, weather permitting. From up here I can see all my land and my sheep. Doing this keeps us young.”
“I think it’s worked,” Jake said.
He bid the couple farewell and kept climbing toward the summit of Mont Saint Victoire, the peak glorified by Cézanne.
At a turn, a chapel came into view. Jake crossed the doorstep and smelled the damp oak. Except for a statue of Christ and a few rows of pews, the chapel was bare.
In the grassy yard outside the chapel, a well attracted his attention. He moved to it and peered between the bricks. Dirt covered the dried up hole.
He glanced at a natural rock wall and moved to a gap that yielded a view of distant valleys. Although he knew a sheer cliff awaited, he could not resist dangling his toes over the edge and looking down. Danger enticed him.
An updraft from the valley blew the scent of lilac across his face. He inhaled and turned back to the yard. The older man who had trailed Olivia through the streets of Avignon had exchanged his Armani blazer for hiking boots, jeans, and a flannel Abercrombie & Fitch shirt.
“Good to see you, Henri,” Jake said in French.
Henri ran a wand over Jake’s clothes.
“Checking for bugs,” Henri said. “Pierre’s orders. He’s inside with the others.”
“Others? How many?”
“See for yourself. Come on in.”
Jake entered the room that would have passed for a misplaced barn had the wooden tables and chairs been bales of hay. Six men sat at a table eating croissants with Brie and Camembert while sipping coffee from tin cups.
Upon Jake’s entry, the conversation died. Six faces looked at Jake, and he recognized all but two.
“What the hell’s going on?” he asked. “A submarine sailor reunion?”
“And now all of our guests have arrived,” Renard said.
Wearing garb similar to that of Henri, Renard stood.
“Shit, Pierre,” Jake said, “you and Henri could pass for twins.”
“My dear man,” Renard said. “Henri’s ego is big enough. Don’t suggest that he’s more handsome than he already thinks he is.”
Jake and Renard exchanged kisses at each other’s cheeks.
“What’s going on?” Jake asked. “Why the party?”
“I’ll explain after breakfast,” Renard said.
A stranger’s hand emptied a thermos into a cup. Jake thanked the man and sipped back coffee.
“Jake, that is Claude LaFontaine,” Renard said. “He was the engineer officer when I was the executive officer on the Rubis. He’s just retired.”
Jake shook LaFontaine’s hand.
“And this is Antoine Remy,” Renard said. “He was my best sonar operator when I commanded the Améthyste. I believe you know the rest.”
Jake greeted the sonar operator and sat. The conversations remained lighthearted and centered around memories of the French submarine force. When the plates were empty, Renard stood.
“Gentlemen, please,” he said.
As if rehearsed, the men left Renard alone with Jake.
“This is our place to talk in private,” Jake said. “I was hoping you called me up here to discuss how I could transfer Marie and Jacques from Taiwan to our hideaway while you were busy shaking down your Agosta. I didn’t expect your mercenary crew.”
“Marie and Jacques will stay where they are,” Renard said. “Their best protection is to follow Li’s agenda.”
“Then why’d you summon me here?” Jake asked.
“I need you for my mission,” Renard said.
“No way. I’m not setting foot on another submarine.”
“My debt to Taiwan is also yours.”
Jake jammed his finger into Renard’s sternum. The Frenchman coughed.
“You came to me,” Jake said. “You brought the whole Colorado thing together.”
“You would prefer that I rewind time and leave you with your career as an American naval officer in shambles and your navy’s betrayal gnawing at your soul? I rescued you in exchange for helping me sell warheads to Taiwan. We failed, and you share the burden of that failure.”
“Things change,” Jake said. “I’ve got a life now.”
“I’m starting to sense that,” Renard said.
“Is that why you had Henri following me?”
Renard lit a Marlboro.
“I was candid that I had men following you during the first months after the Colorado. This is nothing new.”
“I thought you had stopped,” Jake said.
“I did, for a time, but I started again. I never should have stopped, actually. The more people you meet, the greater the danger. You may have a surgically altered nose, but someone from your past could recognize you. Too many Americans are starting to tour the south of France.”
“I don’t like being followed without knowing it.”
“Now you know,” Renard said. “I’ll have someone watching you as often as I can spare.”
“Why not always? Henri could help wipe my ass.”
“I only use those who know of our past to watch over you, and most of them are graduates of the French submarine fleet. They are not surveillance experts. You need to protect yourself, and I fear you’ve forgotten to be wary of new people.”
“So I can’t get close to anyone?”
“No, indeed you may not. Not in our present situation. You would risk ruining us all. You can trust no newcomers with our secrets.”
The elderly couple that Jake had passed during his ascent strolled into the room. Jake smiled and waved.
“Switch to English,” Renard said. “Keep your voice low in case they understand. I’m concerned about people you meet, such as the young American lady.”