casual ambling of a tourist marked her step. She walked boldly peering out from the dark Chanel sunglasses that enveloped her face to watch the young American who had no idea who she was and truly no idea who she really worked for. Finally, she entered the Metro and the pursuer had no problem getting on the same train. She stood a little away from her target and pretended to be absorbed in the map of the underground. After several stops they both got off the train in Montmartre and took the large elevator up. She never would have guessed this neighborhood for such a plain and unassuming young American, yet here she was walking through the artists neighborhood. The plain woman stopped at a small bakery and ordered and baguette and a few croissants. The woman in black waited outside and focused her attention to her thoughts.
“Come to me.” She repeated this sentence over and over again in her mind until she looked up and saw the black bird peering down at her from a tree. She smiled up at the bird and glanced around. Her subject was leaving the bakery and heading up one of the steep narrow streets which ran which ran throughout this hilly neighborhood. The young woman turned to a door in one of the buildings made of gray stone with red shutters. She punched some numbers onto the keypad and the door unlocked. She walked through quietly and was swallowed up in an instant. Right before the door closed the woman in black managed to cram her pointed toe into the little lobby. She looked around to see if anyone was watching. Not a soul was paying her the slightest attention. She walked into the darkly lit room and saw Ellen climbing the stairs. There was no directory in sight so she would have to follow her all the way in. This time she behaved quite like a spy, quietly and slowly making her way up the rounded stairwell. On the third floor Ellen left the stairs and made her way through a narrow hall. It too was dimly lit and so obviously old like everything in Paris but certainly elegant with an old world luxury that was rapidly disappearing in the modern world. As Ellen put her key into the lock, the woman in black approached her and spoke softly.
“Excusez moit Mademoiselle.” She registered the shock in Ellen’s eyes. This little mouse scared very easily. “Do you speak English?” She asked quietly and assumed an expression of anxiety and fear. If the woman had any instinct at all she would have seen right through the insincerity of the stranger in black. Instead Ellen blushed and giggled like a school girl at the sound of her native tongue.
“Oh my goodness! You scared me! Are you new here?” Ellen forgot the key in the lock and approached the woman. She did not have a suspicious bone in her body. Her feet made no sound against the dark red carpet laid over an equally dark wooden floor. The stranger did not remove her expensive sunglasses which Ellen had taken to admiring and for a moment wondered if the woman worked in the fashion industry. She was very chic and Ellen could not help but wish she could be a little more like this woman. Perhaps they were going to be friends and Ellen could break away from her timid and nervous little group of women that she was so used to. The stranger’s face broke into a wide smile.
“Yes I am. I forgot my key and the concierge is nowhere to be found. Could I please use your phone to call my fiancé? He has an extra key.” She sounded a little bothered and frightened.
“Of course!” Ellen reached out her hand in the friendliest fashion. “My name is Ellen, and I’ve been here about two years now. You will love living here and the neighborhood is fabulous.” She was trying her best to sound worldly and chic and then crashed into mediocrity once more. “Gosh! I’m so excited! Finally another American in the building! We have to stick together you know….you have no idea how lonely living in Paris can be.” She was gushing now and could not stop herself. “Or maybe you do
“Come to me.” She repeated this sentence over and over again in her mind until she looked up and saw the black bird peering down at her from a tree. She smiled up at the bird and glanced around. Her subject was leaving the bakery and heading up one of the steep narrow streets which ran which ran throughout this hilly neighborhood. The young woman turned to a door in one of the buildings made of gray stone with red shutters. She punched some numbers onto the keypad and the door unlocked. She walked through quietly and was swallowed up in an instant. Right before the door closed the woman in black managed to cram her pointed toe into the little lobby. She looked around to see if anyone was watching. Not a soul was paying her the slightest attention. She walked into the darkly lit room and saw Ellen climbing the stairs. There was no directory in sight so she would have to follow her all the way in. This time she behaved quite like a spy, quietly and slowly making her way up the rounded stairwell. On the third floor Ellen left the stairs and made her way through a narrow hall. It too was dimly lit and so obviously old like everything in Paris but certainly elegant with an old world luxury that was rapidly disappearing in the modern world. As Ellen put her key into the lock, the woman in black approached her and spoke softly.
“Excusez moit Mademoiselle.” She registered the shock in Ellen’s eyes. This little mouse scared very easily. “Do you speak English?” She asked quietly and assumed an expression of anxiety and fear. If the woman had any instinct at all she would have seen right through the insincerity of the stranger in black. Instead Ellen blushed and giggled like a school girl at the sound of her native tongue.
“Oh my goodness! You scared me! Are you new here?” Ellen forgot the key in the lock and approached the woman. She did not have a suspicious bone in her body. Her feet made no sound against the dark red carpet laid over an equally dark wooden floor. The stranger did not remove her expensive sunglasses which Ellen had taken to admiring and for a moment wondered if the woman worked in the fashion industry. She was very chic and Ellen could not help but wish she could be a little more like this woman. Perhaps they were going to be friends and Ellen could break away from her timid and nervous little group of women that she was so used to. The stranger’s face broke into a wide smile.
“Yes I am. I forgot my key and the concierge is nowhere to be found. Could I please use your phone to call my fiancé? He has an extra key.” She sounded a little bothered and frightened.
“Of course!” Ellen reached out her hand in the friendliest fashion. “My name is Ellen, and I’ve been here about two years now. You will love living here and the neighborhood is fabulous.” She was trying her best to sound worldly and chic and then crashed into mediocrity once more. “Gosh! I’m so excited! Finally another American in the building! We have to stick together you know….you have no idea how lonely living in Paris can be.” She was gushing now and could not stop herself. “Or maybe you do
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