Olivia swallowed.
“You didn’t forget that I’m HIV-positive now?”
“That’s why you’re perfect for this. The Colorado’s captain contracted HIV and knowingly gave it to Slate during an emergency blood transfusion. Revenge was a big part of the ‘Colorado Incident’.”
“How dangerous is he?”
“Third degree black-belt and strong as an ox. But he spared lives when he took the Colorado.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder again.
“You afraid?”
“A little.”
“You should be,” he said. “The fear will keep you alert. You’re trained for this, and you’re damned good. All you did wrong last time was get unlucky.”
She felt a spark within her and recognized it as purpose. It tasted better than self-doubt.
“When do I leave?” she asked.
Olivia pushed through a throng of HIV-positive young adults. At a sunlit buffet table, she piled wedges of sun-dried tomatoes and Camembert onto baguette slices. She scanned the small apartment for Jake Slate, but a smiling face blocked her view.
“You’re new,” a man said in French.
“I just began study at the University of Avignon,” she said. “I found your group’s flier in the lobby and wanted to meet some people.”
“Then you’ve met the most important of the group. My name is Bertraud. I’m the group’s president.”
“Enchanted. My name is Olivia,” she said.
Bertraud was lithe and well groomed. A gold ring and a Rolex watch glimmered as he kissed her hand.
“The pleasure is mine. You have an accent. American, I’d say, although I don’t mean to be insulting.”
Undercover as an expatriate, she let her Connecticut nasal twang invade her French diphthongs. Any Frenchman would recognize the violation of his native vowel sounds.
“I’ve been trying to get rid of it,” she said.
“No, it’s very slight. I only noticed because I have an ear for it. I’m earning my PhD in romance languages.”
“Do they make you teach as part of your study?”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “If you’re studying French Renaissance literature this semester, I will be your instructor.”
“I’m just taking a few art classes for fun.”
He grinned and stepped closer.
“That’s unfortunate,” he said. “You would have been my most lovely student.”
Olivia made herself blush.
“After some lunch here, will you let me give you a tour of the city?” he asked. “There is so much within these beautiful stone walls that can escape the eye without the proper guide.”
She broke eye contact and scanned the room. No sign of Slate, but the energy of the conversations lifted her spirits. It reminded her that HIV wasn’t a death sentence.
“I’d enjoy spending time with a man as knowledgeable as you, but perhaps you could introduce me to some of the others first,” she said.
“As you wish. We are — how shall I say — a diverse group. Let me introduce you to the right people.”
Thirty minutes of conversation with academics left Olivia drained. The group’s interest in the novelty of an American had waned into the idyllic banter of savants.
She spied a slender man, the apartment’s tenant, opening the door. He swept a welcoming arm into the room.
Jake Slate’s broad shoulders spanned the doorframe. He grinned and shook hands with the tenant and moved to the buffet table.
Olivia’s heartbeat accelerated.
“Who’s that, the muscular one?” she asked.
“Oh, him,” Bertraud said. “He’s been with us for about two years. He’s never fit in.”
“Looks dangerous,” she said.
“Brutish.”
“If it weren’t for the brutes,” Olivia said, “how would a lady recognize a refined man?”
“You are as charming as you are beautiful. May I give you that tour of the city I promised.”
“Let me freshen up.”
Olivia walked away and shifted her purse over her shoulder. In a fluid motion, she yanked out a stick of lipstick, ran it between her fingers, and dropped it. It smacked hardwood and rolled into the heel of Slate’s boots.
Olivia knelt and reached.
“Excuse me,” she said.
Slate turned and stooped.
“Let me get it,” he said.
Olivia felt anxious as their eyes met, but his smile put her at ease. He was more handsome than his pictures and didn’t seem like a criminal capable of a nuclear submarine hijack.
“Thanks,” she said and smiled.
“I was hoping you were beautiful,” he said in English.
“What?”
“I overheard you talking to Bertraud. He’s only interested in the hotties. Now that I see you, I’m not disappointed.”
Slate’s directness caught Olivia off guard.
“Look, I don’t mean to be rude,” Jake said. “I just hardly get to speak English with anyone.”
“I know what you mean,” Olivia said.
They stood, and Slate returned the lipstick.
“What’s your name?”
“Olivia.”
“I’m Jake… Jake Savin. You better get back to Bertraud. He’s as jealous as he is arrogant, and we mustn’t upset the son of the mayor, now should we?”
“I didn’t know I was being bored to death by royalty.”
“Another hour with him and you’ll believe he’s in line for the British throne.”
Olivia noticed a slender figure approaching.
“I see that we’ve made the American connection,” Bertraud said in English.
“Pardon your interruption,” Jake said. “I was merely helping the lady pick up something she dropped.”
“Perhaps you were trying to pick up the lady herself?”
“Things don’t need to be dropped to be picked up,” Jake said. “Nor do they need to be picked up once dropped. For example, I could drop you to the floor and leave you.”
“Violence is the resort of a simple mind. I was going to give Olivia the tour of the city, but perhaps instead you should. I’m sure she’d enjoy learning which back alley walls crack the best when punched.”
“Why bother, when you can reproduce Joshua’s efforts at Jericho through self-indulgence? If they don’t crack from acoustic energy they’ll crumble from boredom.”
“Olivia,” Jake said, “when you need a break from Silverspoons, I’ll be here tomorrow for lunch.”
Slate left the buffet table.
Not sure I can wait until tomorrow, Olivia thought.
“I’m sorry, Bertraud,” she said. “But I’m an American girl. I prefer the brutes.”
She marched after Slate.
CHAPTER 4
Commander David Roth lowered his hand to the gold chain wrapped around his khaki belt, followed it deep into his pocket, and rubbed a gold-plated cross.
In the USS La Jolla’s control room, sailors in cotton jumpsuits flowed like a dark blue sea. They sat in front of monitors, streamed phone cords, and stood beside charts that reflected abstract perspectives of a seaborne battle.
“Attention in the control room,” Roth said. “The Japanese tanker convoy is nearing Taiwanese air space. One Chinese destroyer approached the convoy but turned back when challenged by the Taiwanese escort frigates. That makes me believe that the Chinese are awaiting to attack with submarines. That’s where we come in.”
Men turned their heads to listen better.
“Upon entering Taiwanese air space, the tankers will begin zigzag submarine evasion legs,” Roth said. “The escort frigates Kang Ding and Hung La will reposition ahead of the convoy and begin active sonar searches. The Kang Ding and Hung La will stay weapons tight on all submerged contacts outside of six miles to avoid friendly fire.”