Promptly at 20:00 in the old town of Cap d´Agde, the doorbell rang. Sandy Duvin went to the door, let the small, intense woman into the dim entry and closed the door behind her. She stepped into his arms and they embraced. Their kisses were tentative, but sincere and promising.
“Got your phone call,” he said finally, “what´s up?” He led the way into the living room, where the evening light came through the bare windows, scarcely lighting the bare floor.
She looked around the empty room. “You´re not here any more?”
“Moved to my new apartment at the store. I haven´t rented this yet and it seemed a better place to meet. There´s quite a bit of traffic at the new place, so this is more discreet.” He moved to the raised hearth and they sat down, there being no other place to sit.
“What´s happening? Your call was just code.” he asked again.
“The company wants me back in Hamburg.”
“Really?” He sensed the doubt in her voice.
“Well, sort of. Anyway, that´s what the message said. It´s code, just like my message to you today, so there´s no nuance, no way to get the meaning. I mean, think about it. I´ve been in Sète for three years now. I got the lay of the land long ago and I know most of the regulars now. Know them pretty well.”
“And they know you.”
“Yes. They know me as a person they can trust. They tell me things.”
“Good. And you pick things up, as well. I think you´ve done a helluva job.”
“They use me as a sort of communications center. A whole lot of stuff goes across my desk.”
“Even though you´re not one of them.”
“I don´t really know why that is. Usually – other families I´ve covered – they only work through their own people. This seems to be an exception. Now, the company wants me back in Hamburg and I don´t know why. The message just said to close all operations and report to the Hamburg office. No explanation: there never is. I really thought I had a solid, secure situation. But who knows?” She shifted on the hard stone of the hearth. “When you and I were in Hamburg, you know, it was different. I had to cover my targets from a distance. But you never got into that.”
“No. Not my thing.”
“Oh, I don´t mean to sound critical. We were in different businesses. You had solid intelligence on the families and you shared with me. That was an enormous help. You weren´t one of us – at least that´s what I always thought. Now, I´m not so sure. Me, I´m… Well never mind. You know your business, I know mine. I´m really angry at being pulled out, and not knowing why has got me in a state.”
Sandy put a comforting arm around her. “I know how you feel. It´s one of the reasons I got out. Too many arbitrary decisions being made by people who really didn´t know what´s going on.” He repeated himself: “I know how you feel.”
She put her head on his shoulder. “I know you do. I guess I could have done the bunk by myself, but I really wanted to see you, to talk to you about it before I left. I couldn´t just vanish. I feel better already.”
“How are you going to leave? Won´t there be problems?”
“Yes, of course there will be. There´s no one to take my place – I can´t believe that! And I can´t do it gracefully. That is, I can´t say I´ve got a better job – it´s my own business, and it's prosperous. I decided I need to just disappear. I can´t think of another way.”
“When are you going to do this?”
“I already have. I wiped the computer files – actually overwrote them with random stuff. I´ve got copies with me. But all my stuff that´s legal is still there – I only got rid of their stuff that I´d cached. My partner in the business will be there tomorrow, and I´ll just never show up again. There´s a clause in our contract that leaves him the business. He´ll be surprised, but he´ll be glad, too. I have no idea if he´ll be able to do the job.”
Sandy thought for a moment. “I imagine they may think you´re compromised. But what if they´ve screwed up? What if they want you to come back?”
“I guess I could manage it, but it would be really difficult.” She looked at him directly. “Really, if it´s a screw-up, I´ll quit. I´ve put a lot of work into making this a really good connection, and if they´ve fucked up…”
“So what do you want from me?”
“Well, I thought you´d have a bed at least. We used to make that work pretty well.”
“Very well.” He hugged her to him. “Sorry. But you have to get going. Wouldn´t do for you to be seen here. How did you get here?”
“I´m pretty sure I haven´t got a tail. I got on the bus to Beziers, but I got off before it left: no one else did. Then I got on the express bus to Montpellier. I was the only one who got on in Sète. In Montpellier, I took the train to Beziers and rented a car when I got there. It´s parked not far from here.”
“What about your apartment and your car?”
“Come on, Sandy. I´ve been in this long enough, and you know we can handle this kind of thing. You´re not one of us any more than I´m one of the Mafia, but we trust you. You´ve got the background and the experience. We worked really well together in Hamburg until…” She stared out the window for a few moments, then resumed.
“My car´s leased, it will get repossessed when the payments aren´t made. My personal bank accounts are closed. The identity on them, on the car lease and at the Préfecture is false and untraceable. The apartment´s clean. I´ve got two suitcases and plenty of money in my own name elsewhere.”
Sandy reflected that he probably didn´t know her real name, even now. “Okay. So, where do we go?”
“I thought you might drive me to Toulouse. I can´t leave the car there; it needs to be returned to Beziers.”
“Toulouse is in the same family territory. I´d say Clermont-Ferrand would be better.”
“Fine. Let´s go.”
“Wait,” Sandy said, “we need something to eat. There´s a take-away not far from here. I´ll get something and meet you at the car. Tell me again where it is. Give me twenty minutes.”
Sandy left through the front door and turned toward the inner city, heading for the store he had in mind. She watched him go, staying out of sight. She went to the bathroom, then walked through the kitchen to the back door and down the steps and through an alley. The dampness of the air near the port muffled her steps: she was wearing running shoes, the thought of which made her grin sadly.
Sandy drove the car out of town and north to the RN 312. When they reached the RN 9, Sandy kept on. They ate croque monsieurs and frites as they drove. The hour grew later, it got dark, and Sandy turned off and drove a few kilometers into a tiny village, did a U-turn and returned to the Route National, then to the Autoroute. No one seemed to be following them. After another hour, she took the wheel.
They talked, as the evening deepened into night, about the lives they had each left behind. In Hamburg, Sandy had worried about transportation security, assuring the safety and integrity of huge amounts of cargo passing through the port. She had worked more directly on the cells of organized crime that naturally cluster about places where there is opportunity for deception, bribery and theft. They had enjoyed their work, at least up to the point where Sandy had made a decision to leave his company. Soon thereafter, she had moved to her assignment in southern France. While they had largely lost touch at first, when Sandy had moved south too, they had resumed their acquaintance. Because they knew each other well, they had become lovers again. But now…
It was early morning when they reached Clermont-Ferrand. They drove to the Hotel Mercure Centre, rented a room. They undressed each other, showered, made love, then slept. When they woke, they made love again, and went downstairs to breakfast. Back in the room, they made love one last time and talked about hopes and dreams in the sun on the balcony of their room.
In the evening she took a plane for Paris and Hamburg. Sandy spent the night, then drove south through the fields of the Puys de Dôme.
His thoughts wandered over the few hours since he´d gotten the cryptic, coded message from her. He sent his mind back to Hamburg and another life.
It had been a big move for him, moving to a new country, charged with ensuring the company´s security for the thousands of containers that passed through the ancient Hanseatic port. Not just the physical security of the containers, but as time went on, the increasing burden of the paperwork to meet the requirements of American manifests and bills of lading under the Homeland Security rules to protect against a terror attack.
On the whole Sandy had enjoyed the work. His background in law enforcement brought him into easy comradeship with his German counterparts, both in the industry and in the Federal Government´s Border Patrol and the Criminal Police. They worked well together and he enjoyed their company. Using his experience, he began to identify groups of men who could only be agents of organized crime. He collected information, compiled files, developed cases and passed the information on to the Bundesgrenzschutz – the border police.
It had been something of a surprise to have been approached by an attractive woman who became his lover. Not so much that they became lovers as that, in time, she had revealed herself to be an operative of one or more of those misty organizations that combat crime in the shadows.
They had enjoyed the closeness of sex and friendship for a long time, until she had been moved south. And about the same time, Sandy had reached a point where the burden of paperwork reacted with the increasing strains of combating criminal attempts to smuggle or steal the cargos for which he was responsible. He had left the company quietly and with everyone´s good wishes. But he had left for good. And now, in a way, so had she.
‘It´s the end of the road for us,´ he thought without very much regret. ‘We were never more than really good friends, and it was our work that gave us a point of reference. No matter what happens, she won´t be back here, and the likelihood we´ll meet again is slim.´
He shook his head as a high-powered car went booming past him. ‘Perhaps there´s someone else out there. Perhaps it will be someone who´ll really matter.´