SDECE. It was the spook branch of the French government and was comprised of career military officers and assorted civilians. Baptiste, roughly the equivalent of a major in the U.S. Army, called Command and, but for the "special assignment" of personal interest to the prime minister, would have reported to a colonel. He expected to retire with the same rank, since he was already forty-eight years old and had no promotion in sight.
Field agents never got much in the way of an office, normally just a cubbyhole with a divider, because they weren't expected to spend much time sitting in them. Because of his special assignment, however, Baptiste had been spending a lot of time here. At the moment he was pondering the biggest issue of his career and waiting for a vital phone call.
Finally the phone rang.
"Yes?" Baptiste struggled to maintain his usual flat calm.
"We are in."
"For sure."
"Yes."
"They believe you?"
"The main man does. Others may be skeptical."
"What are you drinking?"
"A soft drink. Why?"
"Can we use the computer instead?"
Baptiste's hired agent Figgy Meeks could download a cipher code from the SDECE for his communications, each code lasting only forty-eight hours. Baptiste waited for his own download of the current cipher. In seconds the written text appeared on his screen; now written dialogue was possible, and it could be kept on file for future reference.
"They are going after Bowden. I will stay in the States. They don't seem to know about Paul. Attribute it to Gaudet. They wonder, as I do, why Gaudet would risk using the vector against Sam's neighbors."
Baptiste replied:
" I have no idea. It has gotten the attention of American intelligence. They will be looking harder. That means we redouble our efforts... And remember: It was an accident. You bear no moral responsibility for Sam's man."
"That's wishful fantasy."
"You know how to count $5,000,000.00? "
"Remind me again that I'm doing this for money and I may cross the ocean and shove it up your ass," Figgy communicated.
"Next report when? "
"When I know something worthwhile. Have you learned anything more from Moreau? "
"They are working on it. Nothing yet."
"Sam wants to talk with her ASAP'
"No chance. As to Bowden.... Where is he, exactly? When are they leaving? " Baptiste prodded.
"No intel on that yet."
"Remember that you are working for the French government and are handsomely paid. Get me that information."
Figgy's transmission died. Like all American government men, Meeks was a prick. At least he was a greedy prick who had been screwed over by the CIA in a fashion similar to what the French government was doing to Baptiste.
Baptiste thought carefully about his next move. It would be dangerous not to run it through channels. He called the admiral and amazingly got him on the first ring.
"I'm about to run," the admiral snapped.
"We have a situation in the Amazon. The Americans feel—"
"Yes, yes. You told me. A man named Bowden supplied Northern Lights and perhaps Chaperone came through him. You have my permission to shadow the Americans. Who will you send?"
"Rene Denard," Baptiste replied.
"A bit of a renegade, don't you think?"
"We need someone strong."
"Tell him not to cross swords with the Americans." The admiral rang off.
"I need Bowden or Raval." Devan Gaudet spoke in French to Trotsky, his assistant, who sat on the other side of the coffee table in a rented house in Mexico, not far south of the California border. "Ideally both. I'll need better men than those who went after Sam and I'll need better men than those who went to South America last time. I don't like losing."
Men were finishing up with the boxes and loading them out the door into a truck. Most of the stuff was staying and would go up in flames when the small house burned to the ground. After everyone
Field agents never got much in the way of an office, normally just a cubbyhole with a divider, because they weren't expected to spend much time sitting in them. Because of his special assignment, however, Baptiste had been spending a lot of time here. At the moment he was pondering the biggest issue of his career and waiting for a vital phone call.
Finally the phone rang.
"Yes?" Baptiste struggled to maintain his usual flat calm.
"We are in."
"For sure."
"Yes."
"They believe you?"
"The main man does. Others may be skeptical."
"What are you drinking?"
"A soft drink. Why?"
"Can we use the computer instead?"
Baptiste's hired agent Figgy Meeks could download a cipher code from the SDECE for his communications, each code lasting only forty-eight hours. Baptiste waited for his own download of the current cipher. In seconds the written text appeared on his screen; now written dialogue was possible, and it could be kept on file for future reference.
"They are going after Bowden. I will stay in the States. They don't seem to know about Paul. Attribute it to Gaudet. They wonder, as I do, why Gaudet would risk using the vector against Sam's neighbors."
Baptiste replied:
" I have no idea. It has gotten the attention of American intelligence. They will be looking harder. That means we redouble our efforts... And remember: It was an accident. You bear no moral responsibility for Sam's man."
"That's wishful fantasy."
"You know how to count $5,000,000.00? "
"Remind me again that I'm doing this for money and I may cross the ocean and shove it up your ass," Figgy communicated.
"Next report when? "
"When I know something worthwhile. Have you learned anything more from Moreau? "
"They are working on it. Nothing yet."
"Sam wants to talk with her ASAP'
"No chance. As to Bowden.... Where is he, exactly? When are they leaving? " Baptiste prodded.
"No intel on that yet."
"Remember that you are working for the French government and are handsomely paid. Get me that information."
Figgy's transmission died. Like all American government men, Meeks was a prick. At least he was a greedy prick who had been screwed over by the CIA in a fashion similar to what the French government was doing to Baptiste.
Baptiste thought carefully about his next move. It would be dangerous not to run it through channels. He called the admiral and amazingly got him on the first ring.
"I'm about to run," the admiral snapped.
"We have a situation in the Amazon. The Americans feel—"
"Yes, yes. You told me. A man named Bowden supplied Northern Lights and perhaps Chaperone came through him. You have my permission to shadow the Americans. Who will you send?"
"Rene Denard," Baptiste replied.
"A bit of a renegade, don't you think?"
"We need someone strong."
"Tell him not to cross swords with the Americans." The admiral rang off.
"I need Bowden or Raval." Devan Gaudet spoke in French to Trotsky, his assistant, who sat on the other side of the coffee table in a rented house in Mexico, not far south of the California border. "Ideally both. I'll need better men than those who went after Sam and I'll need better men than those who went to South America last time. I don't like losing."
Men were finishing up with the boxes and loading them out the door into a truck. Most of the stuff was staying and would go up in flames when the small house burned to the ground. After everyone
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