Unintended Consequences - By Stuart Woods

20





Stone and Marcel were having coffee when Lance was shown into the library. He appeared to have recovered from his jet lag and was beautifully dressed in a dark, chalk-striped suit. Stone made the introductions.

“I am so pleased to welcome you to Paris, Mr. Cabot,” Marcel said.

“It’s Lance, and thank you.”

“I am Marcel. And may I congratulate you on your appointment?”

Lance smiled. “It’s a little early for that, so thank you again.”

“I’m sure that must be a very great responsibility,” Marcel said.

“It is, but I believe I’m prepared for it.”

The conversation continued, with Marcel asking pointed questions and, Stone thought, Lance giving him remarkably straight answers.

They had been at it for an hour when Lance’s tone became more serious. “Marcel,” he said, “one of my Agency’s great strengths has always been the friends we have in the world, people like you, who are attuned to the activities of business, the professions, and the arts—who can help us understand the tenor of the times in their part of the world.”

“I can see how that might be very helpful to you,” Marcel replied. He obviously knew what was coming, and he seemed to relax as Lance went on.

“I would very much like to think of you as our friend and colleague,” he said, “and to hear from you directly from time to time.”

“Are you inviting me to become a spy for the CIA?” Marcel asked, amusement in his voice.

“Certainly not,” Lance replied smoothly, “just a friend and colleague. I’m sure that, in your daily dealings, you hear things that might be of interest to us, indeed things that might be of great help to us as we try to help make the world a better and safer place.”

“Oh, is that what you do?” Marcel replied, chuckling. “Make the world a better place.”

“Making the world safer for free men makes it a better place, does it not?”

“I suppose it does.”

“I would never ask you to take any position against the interests of your own country or your business affairs.”

Stone spoke for the first time. “Marcel has told me that intelligence is half of what he does.”

Lance smiled. “The sharing of even a fraction of that intelligence could make a difference for France, Europe, and the United States.”

“I believe I understand you,” Marcel said. “What sort of arrangement do you envision?”

“Whatever sort you would feel comfortable with. I will give you a secure means of communicating directly with me, and I will have one of our best men, serving locally, available at all times to assist you in any way he can.”

“Would that man be Mr. Richard LaRose?” Marcel asked. “The commercial attaché?”

Lance laughed. “That’s right, you and Rick have met, haven’t you?”

“He was a guest in my home at the suggestion of a friend of mine, Helga Becker. Is she a friend of your Agency’s, too?”

“Helga moves in interesting circles. From time to time, she hears something I might like to hear. It’s no more than that.”

“If you expect Mr. LaRose to continue representing himself as a diplomat, you should take him shopping,” Marcel said.

Lance smiled. “That has already been accomplished,” he said, “with the assistance of Stone. I had a word with the managing director at Charvet to hurry along Rick’s order. Now we must wait only for his hair to grow.”

Marcel laughed out loud.

“I assure you, Rick is most accomplished in his work and, once made more presentable, will blend in beautifully. He is, among other things, a brilliant linguist, fluent in the better part of a dozen languages. It’s how he originally came to our attention, when he was very young.”

“I must say, I was impressed to hear him speaking Swedish with Helga,” Marcel said. “It made me nearly overlook the dreadful suit he was wearing.”

“Would you like to see the new Rick LaRose?” Lance asked. “He’s waiting downstairs in my car.”

“By all means,” Marcel replied. “Invite him up.”

Lance produced an iPhone and pressed a single button, then put it away. Marcel picked up a phone and spoke a few words, then hung up.

No more than a minute had passed when Rick entered the room. Stone was impressed. He wore a dark gray flannel suit, a striped shirt, and a beautiful necktie and carried a handsome briefcase. His hair wasn’t much longer than when Stone had last seen him, but it was much better cut. Stone made the reintroduction and Marcel invited him to sit.

Marcel spoke a couple of sentences of what sounded to Stone like Russian, and Rick replied smoothly in the same language. Marcel repeated in German and Italian, and Rick responded with ease and what sounded like perfect accents.

“How old are you, Rick?” Marcel asked in English.

“I’m thirty-two,” Rick replied.

“I would very much like you to leave your current employment and come to work for me,” Marcel said.

Rick laughed. “My current employer frowns on resignations,” he said, “but I thank you for your kind invitation.”

“Perhaps I can loan you Rick from time to time,” Lance said. “As an interpreter or in whatever role you prefer.”

“That might be interesting,” Marcel said.

“But you must promise not to abscond with him,” Lance said. “I would miss Rick terribly.”

“We shall see,” Marcel replied. “All right, Lance, I will be a friend to your Agency, at least for a while. We’ll see how it goes.”

“I’m delighted to hear it.”

“Please remember,” Marcel said, “that our channel must flow in both directions. I expect I’ll hear from you, at times, with information that might interest me.”

“Of course,” Lance said. “I think you will find our friendship beneficial.” Lance looked at his watch, then held out a hand. Rick placed the handle of his briefcase in it. “In the hope that we might reach an accommodation, I have brought you two gifts,” Lance said, opening the case. He removed an iPhone and handed it to Marcel. “This operates as any other, but when you call one of our phones at the numbers listed on the favorites page, our conversation will be encoded in both directions. With anyone else, it will be an ordinary cell phone call. I am listed among your favorites as Jacques, and Rick is listed as Pierre.”

“I see,” Marcel replied, checking the page.

Lance removed a Mac Air laptop from the case. “Again, this computer operates as any other, except that when you e-mail either Jacques or Pierre, your message will be encrypted, as will our replies.”

“It’s all very simple,” Marcel said.

“We look forward to hearing from you,” Lance said, rising and offering his hand. “And now Rick and I must go. Stone, may we give you a lift?”

Stone felt this was more than an invitation. “Thank you, Lance, yes.” He thanked Marcel for the lunch.

“Stone,” Marcel said, “the Paris Auto Show begins tomorrow, and I will be introducing the Blaise to the world. I hope you will attend as my guest and stay for lunch, too. Lance, Rick, perhaps you can come, as well?”

“I fear I must fly home this afternoon,” Lance said, “but I’m sure Rick would be delighted. He loves cars.”

“I certainly do,” Rick said.

“I will send a car to the Plaza Athénée for you tomorrow at ten,” Marcel said to Stone. “And Rick, perhaps you can hitch a ride with him.”

“Perfect,” Rick said.

The three of them made their goodbyes and rode down in the elevator together.

“Stone,” Lance said when they were secure in his car, with the glass partition rolled up to seal off the driver, “you have done very well.”

Stone shrugged. “The opportunity was there,” he said.

“And you will be rewarded,” Lance said.

They came to a broad intersection a couple of blocks from the hotel and stopped for a traffic light.

“Stone, will you continue to have business with M’sieur duBois?”

“I expect I will,” Stone said. “From what I’ve heard, he’s the reason I came to Paris. Eggers and I met with him in New York.” He didn’t feel it necessary to tell Lance more than that.

“Well, I hope you will keep me abreast . . .” Lance, who was sitting behind the driver, stopped talking and looked out his window. Suddenly he threw himself across the car on top of Rick, who was in the middle, and Stone.

Stone looked to his left in time to see an enormous truck grille hurtling toward the car. It struck with enormous force, shattering glass and rolling the large car onto its side. Even upended, the truck’s engine was still roaring.

“Get out! Out!” Lance shouted.

“How?” Stone asked.