“That frog died for a good cause,” he said.
“Close your mouth. You’re being American.”
“You want the other one?”
Olivia shook her head.
“You sure?”
He jammed the second head in his mouth.
“Well, maybe half.”
He shrugged his shoulders, grabbed hers, and pulled her to his mouth.
“Jake, this is gross.”
He nudged the frog’s butt into her nose. She blushed but bit into the frog. He inhaled his half of the chocolate amphibian and pressed his lips against hers.
She pulled back, covered her mouth, and chewed.
“It’s sad,” she said. “But I think that’s the most romantic kiss you’ve given me.”
He handed her a napkin. She cleaned her face and swallowed. He wrapped his arm around her waist, drew her in, and kissed her again.
She grabbed his ribs and embraced him, and he let himself become lost in her. She was the most amazing woman he had met in his life, and he didn’t want to let go.
As Pierre Renard came into view, the butterflies in Olivia’s stomach went hysterical.
She stood, exchanged a southern French cheek-to-cheek greeting kiss with Marie and Pierre, and sat back down. A waiter poured the house’s red wine into four glasses. Olivia tasted it and found it bitter.
“Ah,” Renard said in English. “Dry. Crisp. The vineyard that supplies this restaurant has been in the same family for eight generations.”
“I think it’s a bit too strong,” Marie said.
“Me, too,” Olivia said. “A bit bitter for me.”
“More for us,” Jake said.
Olivia rubbed Jake’s knee. He was wearing a two-tone gray and black dinner jacket over his white dress shirt. He had worn her blue tie, and that’s all she cared about.
“So,” Renard said, “English or French tonight?”
“I could still use the French practice,” Jake said.
“I was asking the lady,” Renard said. “Someday, I will turn you into a gentleman.”
“French is fine,” Olivia said.
“Where to begin?” Marie asked. “We’ve been dying to meet the new love of Jake’s life.”
“Love of his life?” Olivia asked.
“Of course,” Marie said. “We’ve known that boy long enough to know when he’s head over heels.”
Jake blushed, groaned, and put his head in his hand.
“You’re embarrassing the poor boy,” Renard said.
Olivia ran her hand across Jake’s back.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s fun to watch him squirm.”
“Maybe we should rescue him,” Renard said. “Tell me, then, what brings you to Avignon?”
Olivia recited the combination of truths and lies that she had internalized as her cover.
“The architecture. I’m supporting my new hobby with a few drawing courses, but it’s really just an excuse to keep traveling. I’m sure Jake told you that my father was a cop in Hartford and died in the line of duty. Between his insurance and pension, I’ve had some financial freedom.”
“That must have been devastating,” Renard said. “I lost family when I was young.”
“So you understand,” Olivia said. “It turned my whole life around. I had just earned my PhD in psychology and was going to be a criminal psychologist for the Hartford Police Department. When my father died, I needed time off to rethink things. I guess I’m still just rethinking.”
“And why not?” Marie asked. “Life is too short to do what one dislikes.”
The wireless phone in Renard’s breast pocket rang. He excused himself and walked under the incandescent lights of the cobblestone street. Olivia sensed an opportunity.
“What does he do?” she asked.
“He’s a broker,” Marie said. “Always arranging for someone to sell something to someone else, and the goods hardly seem to matter. I keep begging him to retire, but he seems addicted to his network of business associates.”
I’m not alone in telling rehearsed lies, Olivia thought.
“Sounds exciting,” she said.
Renard reappeared at the restaurant’s entryway and pointed at Jake, who excused himself.
Olivia reached into her purse and withdrew the compact mirror that the undercover sales associate had slipped her. She flipped it open, saw her reflection, and watched a tiny digital display inform her that the transceiver in her compact was linking to the microphone and transmitter woven into the silk threads of Jake’s tie.
The short-range, high-frequency signal from the compact engaged the antenna in Jake’s tie and commanded a transmitter to life.
She worked lipstick across her mouth as she studied the compact’s digital display. It stated that the compact had linked to the bug in Jake’s tie and was recording data.
Confident she was capturing the conversation between Jake and Renard, she slid the compact into her purse.
“With the only people dining at this table who possess doctorate degrees being ladies,” Marie said, “you’d think that they’d ask our opinion instead of storming off alone.”
“It has to do with testosterone,” Olivia said.
“I love them both dearly, but they are restless. I fear that Jake is like Pierre. The moment you think you’ve earned his undivided attention is precisely when he’ll decide that business is more important.”
Olivia sat in silence until Marie breached the subject of European politics. The latest scandal was suspected kickbacks from France Telecom to an officer of the European Union, and as an educated woman, Marie had plenty to say about it.
Jake and Renard returned and made no mention of their conversation other than that it had been business. Olivia passed the evening discussing world events but nothing more about Renard’s affairs. She trusted that her compact held insight into the secrets of his life.
After the return trip to Avignon, Olivia kissed Jake goodnight at her door and trotted to her laptop. She placed the compact next to it and waited for the wireless connection between the machines.
As the laptop wrote an encrypted file to its hard drive, she slipped on a headset.
Her cell phone rang. She stopped the file and pushed the headset behind her ear with the cell phone.
“McDonald,” she said.
“What did you get?”
She recognized the voice as Tommy, her midnight support. “Cousin Tommy” if questioned.
“If you’d leave me alone,” she said, “I’d tell you.”
“You’re supposed to transmit before listening.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m just tired.”
“Don’t go to sleep until we’ve both listened. If this is as big as we hope, I’ll have to wake Robert up.”
“I’ve been dying to listen to this for hours.”
“Transmit. Then listen.”
“Fine.
She hung up, transmitted, and put her headset on.
She heard the bustle of tourists trekking through the streets of Nice, but the recording produced a crystal-clear rendition of Jake and Renard’s hours-old conversation.
“What’s Marie doing here?” Jake asked.
“I convinced her to leave Jacques for a few days,” Renard said. “Minister Li is treating my family well enough, and as long as one of them stay with him, he will be satisfied of my commitment. Marie is free to come and go as she pleases, and I wanted her to help us assess your new love.”
“What do you think of her?” Jake asked.
“Stunning, indeed,” Renard said. “A pleasure to meet her in person, finally.”
“But you still don’t trust her.”
“I have nothing but her word that she’s been wandering across the globe for three years.”
“You verified her father’s death and her PhD?”