The Agency

30 - Bank Plan - 1

The call to the bank had been annoyingly difficult but Monique managed to persuade the assistant direttore that she was one of the registered account holders and that she had the correct code for access. What she wanted was a time to come in and transact her business, a prerequisite due to the sum involved.

With Christmas only weeks away the bank direttore pled a paucity of time. Ten the following morning was the best she could manage and Monique stewed over how to spend the night and plan her route to the bank. It was very likely that Richard would be attempting the same as she, or he was lying in wait for her to make the first move.

She thought back to the shooting and mused about his saving her life. Was it heroic or self serving? Richard didn't need her anymore; he had the bank code. Could it have been a heroic act after all? Perhaps something of their history still simmered.

She changed into a short skirt and a light weight pullover, no stockings and strapless sandals then grabbed her purse and a beige topcoat and left to find a quiet place to eat and have a glass of wine. If she had to spend another night alone, that was her preference over one like that last one she endured . . . although being alone allowed the fear of Murray to haunt her sleep.

***************

Minnie closed her purse and used the mirror in her compact to check the trot and the rest of the area behind her seat on the patio of a seedy, strong smelling, fish house, located a hundred meters or so down from Arnesto's, where the massacre had taken place. Police still swarmed over the restaurant, stringing more crime scene tape to keep curious onlookers away. The fish house was hardly quaint in ambience and the food was pedestrian. Minnie settled for the haddock and green beans with frites.

She closed the compact and set it on the table, assuming the role of the elderly widow on holiday. The waiter cooed over her when she asked him several questions about the menu, almost flirting with her when he learned her situation. His own dear departed wife had only been fifty-two when he lost her two years ago. Minnie smiled at the ploy to establish his age. The meal came and she poked about the plate with her fork, checking regularly through her compact mirror for any sign of her targets.

The first thing she noticed was the arrival of two men, neither dressed like tourists and both scanning the tables and all the patrons before choosing a table in a sheltered corner of the patio with their backs to the sea. A cool breeze had made an appearance and the patio became less attractive as a dining area yet they chose it anyway.

Minnie noted the time and then did another quick check of the area. Both men ordered beer and sat sipping, silently watching the passing strollers and cars. Obviously the weather didn't deter the apparent need to sit outdoors and she was not alone doing surveillance.

***************

Monique tried a few side street trattorias but was not impressed with the places and moved on closer to the main street fronting the marina. Several men and a few young boys did their Italian thing, remarking on her body as she passed by, and she wondered if she might spend some time with a companion, someplace other than her own room with someone a little more mature than her dead waiter.

She could see across the piazza where the police had lights set up and vehicles kept coming and going as the various investigators performed their duties. She continued down the road and then crossed to the marina side where all the tourist places were.

Several small café's and trattorias drew her attention and she finally settled on a small, candle-lit spot with seating right on the edge of the water. The view through the large windows was of the many commercial shipping lines that plied the Porto Vecchio, rivaling Marseille, France, as the leading European port, and along the coast a short distance, the Palazzo San Giorgio, the Bank of St. George.

She settled back comfortably and allowed the waiter to suggest a wine and one of the specials of the house. He was tall dark and not averse to openly flirting with attractive female customers. When she answered a question in French, his eyes lit up and he recited a string of compliments in the same language.

"Very impressive...?"

"Sergio, my distinct pleasure to serve you, Signorina."

"Mmm, is that another house special?"

"At my house it is." This was accompanied by a wink so broad as to be satirical.

"I am intrigued."

He bent down and smiled the wolf's smile. "My shift ends at ten, I could give you a grand tour."

"Even more intriguing." She smiled her own cougar smile and he jumped up, doing a quick step back to the kitchen. She frowned at her choice of another waiter but then maybe give it another chance, she thought, it was only for the night.

Minnie wasn't sure at first. She was getting tired of sitting at different locations all day and kept shifting her mirror trying for a better view. The light was going and it made identification difficult but it definitely looked like Monique walking with the younger man. She turned in her seat and tried picking out details but the distance was too great. She would have to get closer.

When Monique and the waiter had left the marina and walked, arm in arm toward town, Minnie followed at a discrete distance. She knew it was Monique now and she would find out where she stayed and report to Murray. She watched as the couple turned off the piazza and up one of the small streets toward a cluster of low apartment buildings facing the sea.

When they entered the lobby of one, Minnie followed, in time to see the waiter using a key and opening the inner door.

"His place." She muttered unhappily to herself.

It looked like a long, cold night for Minnie and she went back outside to find a suitable spot to wait. The tiny parkette afforded her a not so comfortable bench but an unobstructed view of the building's entrance and she prepared for her vigil with a thermos of coffee from the fish shop and her knitting.

Around nine the following the morning, Monique left the building and started down the street to the piazza again where she hailed a taxi. Minnie, stiff with cold and bundled in the scarf she had resourcefully been knitting, had secured one of her own and followed.

Morning couldn't have arrived sooner for Monique. Sergio turned out to be a photographer hobbyist and their time together was spent with him pleading for erotic poses while he zoomed in and out on Monique's personal anatomy. She resigned herself to his demands, since her face was of no interest and he had an excellent supply of wine and caviar, stolen no doubt from the restaurant. By morning he was so busy developing his prize photos he didn't even notice her dress and leave.

The air was crisp andshe pulled the shawl, she had stuffed in her large purse, close about hershoulders. She had to get to her apartment and prepare herself for the meeting at the bank. After a brief wash and brushing of her hair, she began altering her appearance to conform to her cover papers as Signorina Carla Vitti. She emerged from her room with a confident insouciance.

She had twenty minutes before her appointment but decided thatarriving early might move things along and so she slipped on her coat and shawl and took a taxi to the bank, asking to be let out a block or two early. She wanted time to allow her to get into the new character while walking the rest of the way. When the cab stopped, it was near the end of the marina she got out and started her stroll, passing very close to the parked cars along the avenue.

Minnie paid her driver and began slowly following Monique. She was definitely heading for the bank. This would mean a field decision on her part, there was no time for Murray to get there. She took an oblique route, staying out of Monique's sightline should she suddenly turn around.