The Agency

17 - Plan B

The woman stiffened as they approached the counter. Her eyes took in Richard with a cold disdain and then settled on Jacques sympathetically.

"Cher, give him the letter." Jacques leaned on the counter and buried his head in his hands. Richard accepted the envelope and smiled a thank you at the wooden countenance. He opened it and read the brief message noting that it asked if she had encountered the man previously described . . . Richard.

The other information related to the men at her table the previous day, their activities and their itinerary.

"Very thorough, Jacques. Just when did you describe me to Monique?"

The groan brought a compassionate touch on the shoulder from the woman. He turned his head and pleaded with red, watery eyes.

"I contacted her." The woman straightened again, arms folded defensively and chin raised. "On her cell phone after you bullied Jacques." Another groan from Jacques.

Richard gave her a thoughtful stare. That meant Monique knew about him before they met in the hotel. So she must have alerted the Agency hounds right away and then allowed him to observe her acting ability and to set a meeting knowing they would have him when they followed her to the Bistro.

"Interesting. Very interesting." Richard took the letter and stuck it in his pocket. "One word from either of you about me to anyone . . . anyone . . . and I will return."

There was no need to say what would happen it was printed on his face and modified by his tone.

"I swear." Jacques begged. "Do not harm her." His concern for the woman gave Richard a moment's pause. She wasn't part of the network Monique used, she was just doing a favour for a very dear friend or perhaps a lover.

"Don't give me cause." He nodded briefly and left the shop. A second later he popped back inside.

"Deliver this as usual, no extra information or warnings, Jacques. Remember." He tossed the letter across the shop and left.

******

Murray stepped from behind the wrought iron gate and blocked Monique's entrance to the secluded inn to where she had fled eluding the Agency hounds . . . or so she thought.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"Mister Fischer is waiting upstairs." He took her arm and began steering her toward the door.

"Richard is here, in town." She offered as a token of co-operation. Murray nodded and led her up the narrow stairs to the room at the rear of the inn.

"Mister Fischer will be pleased to hear." He opened the door and gave her an unceremonious push inside.

"Ah, Monique." Nathan rose, butting his cigarette as he did. "Welcome home. Nice place you've chosen." He pretended to admire the dated décor and the almost dingy ambiance.

"How did you find me here?"

"Certainly not through the auspices of those dolts we had following you." He took out another cigarette and fired it up from a large wooden match he took from the shelf over the false fireplace. "I like these pictures." Nathan waved his cigarette at a cluster of small oil paintings over the mantel.

"How?" She was truly perplexed over the fact that first of all they found her and second, how quickly."

"Trade secret I'm afraid. And not really important anymore. Sit down, Monique; we need to have a chat." Nathan returned to the chair he was in and waited until she settled on a single wooden side chair. "Some tea, Murray?"