Chapter 5
1220 Words
Chapter 5When Marie watched Khalid and me come out of the elevator, I breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, her joy at seeing us together was soon dashed when Khalid came to the desk and told her that Madame Kartz was not going to stay with him this time.
“Oh? I thought you were going to...”
“No, Marie, not this time,” Khalid repeated, smiling for my benefit, although, I’m sure, he wished he could have told her otherwise. “Madame will be staying with my colleagues somewhere else for now.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I was really looking forward to your staying with us again,” Marie said, directing her comments to me.
“But I will again, Marie, when my work is done.” I smiled kindly to the woman who had cared for me and Khalid when we were at the doors of hell not too long ago.
Leading me by the elbow to the conservatory, Khalid shot a “Thank you for your help,” to Madame Dobonnet from over his shoulder.
“Are you hungry?” He whispered the question into my ear, as the Maître d’ led us to a table away from the luncheon crowd.
“Yes I am, actually.” I was still smiling. We sat down and the Maître d’ moved out of earshot. “What do you plan to do then?”
He lifted his gaze from the menu, slightly distracted. “I don’t know yet. As I said, there are two things that bother me about my uncle’s dealings...” He returned to his reading of the menu.
“Mark told me that CSIS thought he was selling his wares to people in Gaza,” I put in, trying to get his full attention.
In surprise, Khalid lowered the menu and stared at me. Obviously, he hadn’t been told about this titbit of intel. “Did you say Gaza?”
“Yes, that’s what Fred said.”
“Do you understand what that means?”
“I’m not sure, but since the US has apparently been channelling weapons into Israel for some time, it would stand to reason that your uncle is involved in that particular arms’ trade.”
“Yes, but that puts another slant into the problem.”
“Why? I’d rather think something like that would make it clean cut.”
“Would Madame care for a glass of wine with lunch?” the server interrupted, seemingly in a hurry to serve the restaurant patrons today for some reason.
“Yes, please,” I said, paying no heed to Khalid’s eyes being fixed on the man who had rudely intruded in our conversation.
“Make that a half a bottle of St. Emilion and a Perrier for me,” Khalid said flatly, still eyeing the man intently.
“Very well, Monsieur, right away.”
“You were saying...?” Khalid asked, returning his attention to me.
I had to smile; Khalid would be forever punctilious about etiquette. “I was saying that knowing why the US would be sanctioning your uncle’s activities would only make the problem simpler.”
“Ah yes. In that regard, I agree with you, but then why trying to eliminate you, for that matter? And why going to this elaborate scheme of covering his activities if he knows the US is in on it?”
“We must consider that we might be wrong on all counts...”
“I don’t think we are, Talya. I think we are on the right track, but I also think, as I said upstairs, that my uncle would have to cover up his actions because Saudi Arabia could not be seen to giving any assistance to Israel when in fact they should be helping the Palestinian side, particularly when we’re talking about the Gaza conflict.”
The waiter chose that moment to come back to our table and deposit the wine and glass in front of me. “Thank you,” I said dismissively.
He then poured a bit of the Perrier water in Khalid’s glass and asked, “Would you care to order lunch now, or shall I come back later?”
“You would do well to open Madame’s wine first and let it breathe for a little while,” Khalid said to him.
“Oh. I’m so sorry... Of course, Monsieur... my mistake, I’m sure,” said the confounded server, grabbing the wine bottle and opening it quickly.
“That’s fine, thank you. And give us a few minutes... yes.”
The waiter nodded and left the table, under Khalid’s scrutinizing gaze.
“He is not a waiter,” Khalid said under his breath. “Stay here, Talya, and please don’t move from your chair. I will be right back.”
At these words, Khalid rose from his seat and made his way quietly out of the restaurant, to my amazement. All of a sudden it dawned on me that we wouldn’t be safe anywhere now – not even at the Hotel de Crillon.
When he came back and sat down, Khalid whispered, “Let’s order and get out of here as soon as we’re done. So what’s your pleasure?”
I scanned the menu rapidly. “I’ll have a rice salad and French bread.”
“I’ll have the same,” Khalid said when the server came back to take our orders.
Throughout the meal, we talked about various things that were happening in Paris, but did not broach the subject of Khalid’s uncle anymore. We were now aware that our waiter was an impostor and was maybe the listening ears and seeing eyes of the damned uncle.
As we made our way out of the restaurant, I turned to Khalid and asked quickly, “What did you do when you left me alone in there?” before we reached the front desk.
“Ah, Marie, were you able to make reservations at the George V, for Madame Kartz?”
I had my answer. Khalid had asked to reserve a room for me at the George V, so that if anyone asked, Marie wouldn’t have to lie or try to find out where I was. What’s more, the infamous waiter would probably inquire as to my whereabouts from the front desk personnel when he had a chance, and would be sent on a wild goose chase for a while.
“Shall we go up and pack that suitcase of yours then?” Khalid asked in front of Marie.
“Yes, that would be a good idea, because I would say that my boss will be arriving soon as well.”
“Thank you again, Marie,” Khalid said, leading me to the elevators.
Once we were in Khalid’s suite, I sat in front of the fireplace and looked up at Khalid who had come to stand in front of me. “We’re back to square one, aren’t we?”
“Not quite, because this time we possibly know who’s doing the chasing.”
“That doesn’t help much – really.”
“Oh yes it does, Talya. They don’t know why you came to Paris. They presumed you would have gone to Vancouver directly after being told that I had flown the coop in Cayenne and that Bourdon had been arrested. But you and Mark did the exact opposite – you came here, saying to anyone who wanted to hear that you are here for a short visit, on business, and that you are not staying with me.”
“But what about James and Mark?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean ‘nothing’? I can’t just go to the George V and not tell James or Mark where I am. I’ve had a hard enough time to come here alone as it is...”
Khalid shook his head. “Nothing meant that you’re not going to the George V – that’s the first place where they will be looking for you. Instead, you’re going back to your hotel, the name of which or address I don’t want to know. That way, they will not chase you but only continue to monitor my movements.”
“But what if your uncle contacts you and asks you where I am...?” my voice trailed off suddenly.
“Exactly. I don’t know where you are. I’ve made reservations for you, but neither you nor your colleagues have shown up. Either you didn’t trust my recommendations or decided to change hotel – who knows.”
“Good. What about the plan...?”
“Let me think about that a bit more... Now that I know you’ll be safe for a while and that my uncle will be informed that we’ve parted ways, I have time to plan our next move.”
- Writer
