CHAPTER 4 – THE CITY OF LIGHTS
22:45 (Paris Time)
Friday, October 16, 2020
International Arrivals Terminal, Charles-de-Gaulle International Airport
Roissy-en-France, Paris region, France
The French customs and immigration officer looked briefly at the passport handed to him by the elegantly dressed traveler, then at the man with a short beard standing in front of his wicket.
‘’And what is the purpose of your trip to Paris, Mister Herbert Jones?’’
‘’Business!’’ answered Erik Johnson. Nodding his head, the French functionary stamped his passport and gave it back to him, along with a blue-colored, numbered ticket.
‘’Please give this ticket to the customs officer who will process you once you will have your baggage with you, Mister Jones.’’
‘’I will, sir. Thank you very much.’’
The next person at the officer’s wicket was a big, tough-looking matron wearing the kind of low-quality, tasteless dress French citizens had come to expect from many American women. The smile the matron gave to the officer did nothing to make her less ugly.
‘’High! I came to shop for the latest Paris fashion!’’
‘You certainly need it!’ thought the Frenchman while examining her passport, which was in the name of ‘Jane Proctor’. He quickly stamped her passport and gave it back, along with a white numbered ticket.
‘’Have a nice stay in Paris, Miss Proctor.’’
At the adjacent wicket, another French immigration officer got an American passport from a tall, square-shouldered man with short brown hair.
‘’What is the purpose of your visit to France, Mister Pickering?’’
The American answered while giving him a malicious smile.
‘’Girls, girls and more girls, mister. I always dreamed of visiting your famous cabarets, like the Moulin Rouge, the Crazy Horse and the Lido.’’
The French official couldn’t help give the man an amused smile.
‘’I see!’’
Stamping the passport of ‘Donald Pickering’, he gave it back to the American, along with a yellow ticket.
‘’Have a good time in France, Mister Pickering.’’
‘’I certainly intend to, mister!’’
A family of four was next at the wicket, followed by a thin, unimpressive-looking young man with thick glasses who timidly gave his passport to the French official.
‘’Hello, sir! My name is Lyam Duckworth and I came to France to do some historical research for a university thesis.’’
‘’What historical period are you particularly interested in, Mister Duckworth?’’
‘’The Middle Ages, particularly the 13th and 14th Centuries.’’
‘’Then I strongly suggest that you visit the Cluny Museum, in the 6th Arrondissement. It specializes in the High Middle Ages and contains many fascinating historical pieces, sir.’’
‘’Oh, thank you for that information, sir! Uh, is it possible by now to visit the Notre-Dame Cathedral? I was heart-broken when I saw it go up in flames on television.’’
‘’I am afraid that it is still closed for reconstruction, Mister Duckworth. I am truly sorry about that. Here is your passport, plus a ticket you will have to present at the customs counters.’’
‘’A true shame, really, about the Notre-Dame Cathedral. Thank you again for the information.’’
The French official nodded to that: all the French citizens had been heart-broken to see the ancient cathedral burn down last year, as it constituted a true national historical treasure.
At the customs counters, both ‘Jane Proctor’ and ‘Lyam Duckworth’ were waived through after being asked a couple of simple questions, while ‘Herbert Jones’ saw his suitcases briefly opened and scanned visually before being waved through. However, ‘Donald Pickering’ got a much more thorough check of his suitcases by a pair of French customs officers, which included a young and pretty but also all-business woman. That French woman repressed a smile when she found four boxes of extra-large condoms inside one of Pickering’s suitcases, along with a couple of vibrators. Either the man was dreaming in color or he was truly able to attract women to him. Eyeing him up and down, the French woman had to recognized that the American was a handsome man.
‘’May I remind you that the age of consent in France is fifteen, Mister Pickering? I am telling you that because some human traffickers abuse minors and often try to make them pass as older girls while exploiting them.’’
‘’Oh goodness! I only date women who are clearly over the age of twenty, miss: I like women with at least some experience.’’
‘’I see! Well, in that case, have safe fun in France, Mister Pickering.’’
‘’Thank you, miss!’’
Watching ‘Donald Pickering’ walk away after closing back his suitcases and loading them back on his baggage cart, the female customs agent whispered to her male colleague.
‘’Quite a number, that American. Hopefully he is not some kind of pedophile on the hunt for young girls.’’
‘’You never know these days, Marie.’’
The four CIA employees boarded separately a bus linking the airport with the Rond-Point de l’Étoile in Downtown Paris, where the famous Arc de Triomphe stood. Sitting in widely separated seats in the bus, they kept quiet during the nocturnal trip through Paris, with Ian Dorset actually being truly fascinated by the lights and sights of Paris, which he had never visited before. As for his three colleagues, who were seasoned travelers, they simply used the trip to sleep a bit, in order to combat the jump of six hours ahead of Washington time caused by their trip. Coming out of the bus at the subway Station de l’Étoile, the four agents stayed separated and wandered a bit around, so that they could each stagger the time at which they took taxis to go to their hotel, the Balzac, where they had reserved rooms in advance. The Balzac, which occupied an old, six-story-high stone building typical of Downtown Paris buildings, was a comfortable, high-end hotel with the kind of prices you got to expect in Paris, with room prices typically starting at 200 dollars or more a night. However, it had the advantage of being close to the Pakistani embassy, situated along the Lord-Byron Street, where General Khan and Doctor Ghanef were staying.
Dean Price, or rather ‘Donald Pickering’, was the last of the four to show up at the Balzac Hotel, dragging behind him his large suitcase on wheels and carrying a travel bag. Going to the reception counter of the hotel, he put his passport down on the counter while speaking in good but accented French to the small, jovial-looking man in his fifties standing behind the counter.
‘’Good evening, mister. My name is Donald Pickering and I made a reservation from the United States for a room.’’
The receptionist nodded his head and typed a command on his desktop computer, looking at the screen for a couple of seconds before smiling to Dean.
‘’We effectively have a reservation in your name for a period of one week, Mister Pickering. Do you wish to pay for your room in advance in full or in part, sir?’’
‘’I will pay in full right now. You do accept credit cards, I believe?’’
‘’Of course, sir! We also accept payments in either Euros or in American dollars. It will be a total of 1,623.60 dollars, sir. You have Room 511. Here is your key, sir.’’
‘’Thank you!’’
After grabbing the old-style room key that the receptionist had laid on the counter, Dean took out his wallet to take his credit card provided by the CIA and pay for his room. As he did so, someone entered the lobby of the hotel and walked to the reception counter. That person, a woman by the tone of the voice, spoke in French to the receptionist.
‘’Do you have anything for me, Mister Lebrun?’’
‘’I effectively have a small envelope that was left for you, Miss Kareshmian. Here it is.’’
Having the immediate impression that he had heard that female voice before, Dean twisted his head sideways to look at the woman, a tall and beautiful one with long, silky black hair, at the same time as she looked at his face for the first time. Both immediately froze in surprised shock while staring at each other, prompting an amused thought in the receptionist’s brain.
‘Talk about love at first sight for those two!’
Dean Price and Farah Qalibaf stayed frozen for a moment before Farah painted a fake smile on her lips and asked a question to Dean.
‘’You? What are you doing in Paris?’’
‘’Me? I could ask you the same.’’
Keeping to herself the choice swear words coming to her mind, Farah quickly switched gears and pointed to one of the sofas located in a distant corner of the lobby.
‘’Let’s go sit over there and discuss about our respective visits to Paris.’’
‘’A good idea.’’
Her heart beating fast, Farah walked as calmly as she could to the said sofa, sitting in it and then putting the small envelope given to her by the receptionist in her large purse, while Dean sat at the other extremity of the sofa, keeping some distance with her. The two then stared again at each other in silence for long seconds before Dean spoke up, his voice kept low and his tone soft.
‘’You look as beautiful as ever, Farah, or should I use another first name with you?’’
‘’You can call me ‘Fatmeh’ and thank you for the compliment. And you, what name should I call you?’’
‘’Call me ‘Donald’, or preferably simply ‘Don’. I suppose that you are not in Paris simply on vacation, Fatmeh?’’
‘’What if I said that I was, Don? After all, everybody needs to take some vacations from time to time. Paris is such a beautiful and romantic place anyway.’’
Dean smiled at that, genuinely amused.
‘’Paris is definitely a romantic place, especially with you around. We may have our differences but I admire your courage and resolve.’’
Farah’s eyes softened noticeably at those words.
‘’Thank you again, Don: you truly have a way with women. Know that I also admire you as well: you are a true man in all aspects and you also are an honorable man, something I see too rarely.’’
‘’Well, now that we have complimented each other, could you tell me frankly if you are here on business or on vacation? On my part, I am ready to recognize that I am on a business trip.’’
‘’I appreciate your truthfulness, Don. I will thus tell you in turn that I am here on business. I truly hope that our business goals today are not mutually exclusive.’’
‘’Maybe they could actually be complementary ones, Fatmeh. Remember the way we worked together in Spain, five years ago.’’
‘’Worked together or tolerated each other, Don?’’ replied Farah with a sarcastic smile, making Dean grin.
‘’Well, the important thing is that we didn’t shoot at each other then. Hopefully, it will again be the case this time. I tell you what: as long as our respective missions won’t impede each other or collide together, I am ready to ignore your presence in Paris.’’
‘’That is most reasonable, Don. I am thus ready to pledge to you to keep a similar deal with you. By the way, is ‘Sparrow’ with you in Paris?’’
Dean hesitated a bit before replying to that but finally decided that Farah would find out about that anyway by simply watching the goings in and out of the hotel.
‘’Yes, he is, but I won’t say more about my mission over that. And you, still mostly playing lone ranger?’’
‘’Mostly, with only a few helping hands in the background.’’
‘’Glad to hear that, Fatmeh. Should we go up to my room and drink to our mutual agreement there?’’
Farah grinned, amused by that and by the barely concealed invitation it constituted. She however didn’t reject it at once and stared softly at the big, muscular American. While he represented and worked for a government she loathed, he was personally the kind of man many women would find most attractive. Furthermore, he had proved to be a man loyal to his word, on top of showing that he was a highly skilled and brave secret agent. Finally, they had left on good terms five years ago, when they had last seen each other.
‘’No poison, dagger, bullet or garotte?’’
‘’None! I promise only caresses, kisses and tenderness.’’
‘’Deal! Let’s go upstairs!’’
Dean, not believing this positive response from her, got on his feet and accompanied her to the bank of two elevators sitting at one end of the lobby. Going up to the fifth floor, he led her to his room, unlocking the door and opening it before inviting her in with a smile.
‘’After you, miss!’’
‘’Thank you, Don!’’
Dean closed the door behind them and gallantly helped Farah take off her leather coat, suspending it in the closet of the hotel room before himself removing his sports suit’s jacket. Next, he went to the minibar of the room and opened it before looking at Farah.
‘’What would you like to drink, or do you follow Islamic restrictions about alcohol?’’
‘’Mineral water with ice will do, Don.’’
‘’A judicious choice.’’
Serving to himself a small portion of scotch after handing to her a glass of mineral water, Dean softly knocked his glass against hers while smiling to Farah.
‘’To our mutual health!’’
‘’To our health!’’ she replied before taking a sip while still looking into his eyes. She then put down her glass, imitated in that by Dean, and started slowly undoing his shirt.
‘’You once were able to see me naked. Let me have the same privilege now with you…’’
00:38 (Paris Time)
Saturday, October 17, 2020
Room 503, Hôtel Balzac
Corner of Rue Balzac and Rue Lord-Byron
8ème Arrondissement, Paris
Erik Johnson sighed, somewhat annoyed, when he finally got on his smart phone a text message from Dean telling him in which room he was lodging. Erik had received similar text messages from both Julia and Ian over half an hour ago. He however put that on account of Dean having possibly spent more time than the others loitering around before entering the hotel and taking his room. Being truly tired from the long air trip and the change in time zones, he then sent a return text message to tell his team members to come to his room at nine in the morning, after a good night’s sleep, and went to bed. Unbeknown to him, Farah Qalibaf hurriedly packed up and moved out to another, nearby hotel after leaving Dean’s room, not because she was afraid that Dean would do something to her afterwards but to avoid possibly ending face to face in the morning with his CIA partner, the cold, calculating ‘Sparrow’.
08:26 (Paris Time)
Saturday, October 17, 2020
Reception desk of the Hôtel Balzac
The receptionist who had been on night shift duty was waiting for his day replacement when he saw a black man wearing an ‘Air France’ coverall and towing two large suitcases enter the lobby and head for his counter. Having experienced this scenario many times in the past, he greeted the man with a polite smile.
‘’May I do something for you, sir?’’
‘’Yes! I am delivering two pieces of luggage which were temporarily misplaced. Do you have a Miss Jane Proctor and a Mister Herbert Jones in your list of customers who arrived yesterday?’’
‘’One moment, please!’’ said the receptionist before consulting his computer for a moment. He then nodded his head and looked up at the deliveryman.
‘’Yes, we do! They arrived late last night from New York. I can take them for you.’’
‘’Uh, I need a signature from the owners of those suitcases. Can you give me their room numbers?’’
‘’I certainly can! Miss Proctor is in Room 412, while Mister Jones is in Room 503. The elevators are to your left.’’
‘’Thank you!’’
The black man, still dragging the two suitcases on their wheels, went to the elevators and called a cabin, then entered the first one and pushed the button for the fourth floor. Once up on that level, he went to the door bearing the number 412 and knocked on it, getting a muffled answer after a few seconds.
‘’Who is it?’’
‘’Air France luggage service, miss! You were missing a brown suitcase?’’
‘’I certainly did!’’ replied Julie Prost before unlocking and opening the door. The black man then gave her one of his two suitcases while speaking to her in a near whisper.
‘’Our surveillance team reports that Ghanef and Khan are still inside the Pakistani embassy. It also has a word of caution for your team: the French DGSI{7} is also watching the embassy.’’
‘’I will pass the word to our team leader. Any problem with our special equipment?’’
‘’None! Here is an envelope with the radio frequencies and callsigns used by our surveillance team, plus the callsigns assigned to your team. We were also able to intercept and note the frequency used by the DGSI agents posted near the Pakistani embassy. Those guys are pros but their equipment is rather dated: I guess that they have budget problems even more severe than our own.’’
Julie smiled in amusement while taking the offered envelope, which had been made to look like a delivery voucher.
‘’I can sympathize with them. Thank you very much!’’
Julie then closed and locked back her door before dragging the large and heavy suitcase to her bed, on top of which she laid it flat before opening it to inspect its content. She nodded with satisfaction on seeing that the computers, signal intercept devices and other surveillance equipment were all intact, wrapped inside some pieces of clothing.
Going up by one level, the black deliveryman went to Erik’s room and knocked on it, repeating the same procedure he had used with Julie Prost and then giving to Erik his last suitcase, which contained the weapons, ammunition and individual miniature radios to be used by the team, on top of giving a copy of the information he had given to Julie. Once his door was locked again, Erik opened the suitcase on top of his bed and smiled as he contemplated the arsenal inside it: diplomatic pouches were so useful to send weapons and other sensitive equipment and documents inside foreign countries.
At six before nine, Dean was the first to show up for the team meeting called by Erik. He however spoke to him in a low voice as soon as the door closed behind him.
‘’Heads up! I saw Farah Qalibaf, our Iranian friend, on arrival at the hotel. She recognized me instantly but kept her cool and spoke in private with me for a moment: she is on a mission in Paris but swore to me that it was not targeting American citizens or interests. In return, I told her that I was not actively working against Iran and we mutually agreed to stay out of each other’s way. I suspect that she has by now moved out to another hotel, just in case.’’
‘’Does she know which room you are in, or which are the rooms occupied by the team?’’ asked Erik, on alert at once.
‘’She heard my room number when the receptionist gave me my key.’’ lied Dean, feeling bad about doing so. ‘’However, she wouldn’t know about our other rooms.’’
‘’Then, pack your things and move to this room: we can’t risk that some Iranian hit team tries to attack you in your room. Do it now!’’
Dean nodded his head but didn’t speak before turning around and leaving. Julie Prost was next to show up at Erik’s door, closely followed by Ian Dorset. The bespectacled analyst looked at his watch after looking around the room.
‘’Dean is not in yet?’’
‘’He came earlier but I sent him back to his room so that he could pack up and move to my room. We had an old acquaintance who happened to also have a room in this hotel: Lieutenant Farah Qalibaf, or the Iranian Revolutionary Guards Corps Intelligence Bureau. She saw Dean when he arrived to take his room and spoke to him briefly, assuring him that she was not in Paris to target American citizens or interests. Still, I told Dean to move to here in order to avoid any possibility of him being targeted by the Iranians.’’
Julie Prost, her expression now sober, thought those words for a moment.
‘’Maybe she was truthful about not wanting to hurt Americans here in Paris, but I doubt that she would be in Paris simply for vacation. On the other hand, there is no lack of targets in Paris for Iranian agents, starting with the Saudis, the Israelis and the various groups supporting Sunni extremists.’’
‘’What about the Pakistanis?’’ asked Ian Dorset, making Julie nod once.
‘’Them too, but to a lesser degree than the Saudis or Israelis. While Pakistan is persecuting its Shia minority, something that is irritating greatly the Iranians, they have not clashed directly for a long time. I would say that we should take care of our problems here in Paris while letting Miss Qalibaf take care of her own problems.’’
‘’That sounds logical and reasonable enough to me, Julie.’’ said Erik. ‘’We will thus concentrate on our two Pakistani officials and forget about Miss Qalibaf.’’
‘’By the way, Erik, I received our suitcase containing our special equipment.’’
‘’Excellent! On my part, I got our weapons and radios this morning. We will thus be able to start the serious work right away. I will review our plan of action once Dean is back here with his things.’’
It took less than ten minutes before Dean Price, wearing one of his customary dark suits with sunglasses, showed up with his two pieces of luggage. Letting him barely enough time to drop his things in one corner of the room, Erik then reviewed the information they had on their two Pakistani targets and studied a detailed map of their Paris district with his team, discussing about how to proceed next. At the end, Erik tried to lighten the atmosphere by attempting a joke.
‘’Well, Dean, if a hit team crashes into your old room or blows it up, then you will know that Farah loves you…to death!’’
‘’Yeah! That would really be fun!’’ replied Dean with a smirk.