NorthernPassion (9 page)

Visit to the Agency

The offices of
Conseils Etudes
were nondescript. The
name meant consulting and research and when you translated it, you didn’t know
any more than you did when you started out. The clicking sound of her heels
echoed along the tree-lined street as she made her way to the address she was given.
The offices of the research agency were on a mixed-use block. Business and
residential buildings were blended in together, sometimes both in one building.
She ran the number of the building over and over in her head, glancing at each
facade as she passed and trying not to look too lost. Seeming comfortable was
key. It could make the difference between being believable and being dismissed
as soon as she entered the room.

In this area of France, parking was often in the center of
the building, accessed through a courtyard. Desiree had to jump to avoid a car
crossing the sidewalk in front of her. She almost missed where she was supposed
to go. Her cell told her she was fifteen minutes early, just as she wanted to
be. She had no idea what to expect in this meeting, but had memorized what she
was supposed to be coming for and she hoped she knew enough about her business
so they would trust and believe her. If there was more to be had here than
market research, she would certainly find out today.

The small chip in her supposedly normal phone was her only
communication with the outside world. Sam could hear whatever was transpiring
without her even calling him. The phone wasn’t really a phone at all. It was a
state-of-the-art two-way communication system blending the best Apple had to
offer with the capabilities of a tracking system and a high-powered
walkie-talkie. All she had to do was say “help” and help would be there, at
least theoretically. Of course it was untested. They often had technology far
in advance of the normal population. That was one of the things Desiree loved
about the job. It allowed her to feed her inner geek.

She paused outside the office and looked around. There was
not even a name on the building. The business was one of several in a five-story
mixed-use building. Every other floor held a residential apartment. She turned
and looked across the street. Sam should be around somewhere. Her heart skipped
a beat and adrenaline pounded loud in her ears. He’d better be. They never knew
what could happen. This place could be what they said it was, or it could be
the cover for some multinational drug cartel or something. She chuckled at the
thought. Was she reaching? Perhaps she needed to rein in her imagination. This
case couldn’t possibly be that serious. Still, she couldn’t ignore the little
voice inside her head and it was saying she needed to be extra careful.

She couldn’t see Sam but she was confident he was there,
most likely in a window right across the street. He’d never failed her yet and
Desiree didn’t suspect he would be starting now. She took a deep breath,
stepped up to the intercom on the front of the building and searched for the
name she was looking for. She became more tense as she read each entry and had
almost scanned the whole row when the name jumped out at her. Third floor.
Relief washed over her. She took three deep breaths and tried to relax her
shoulders. Something about the whole plan had her really tense. In this case,
really tense was good because it also meant she was on her toes.

Desiree pushed the button and a French voice answered
immediately. She responded in English. “
Bonjour
. I have an appointment.”

“Yes. Yes. Third floor.” The door vibrated and buzzed.
Desiree jumped back and grabbed the handle, surprised. It was hard to get used
to the brusqueness of the French. She quickly pulled herself together and
entered the building. It was showtime.

By the time she got to the third floor, the door was propped
open. It appeared
Conseils Etudes
was the only open office on the floor.
There was one other door, but it wasn’t marked. Desiree plastered on her best
smile, thought about who she was supposed to be and walked in.

The lobby of the place was surprising. She glanced around
quickly, wondering if this was all there was. The name had sounded all fancy in
her head, so Desire had expected the offices to live up to that. There were
nothing like the posh place in her head. The room she’d stepped into was the
size of a closet, with only a small desk and a few doors leading to what looked
like similarly sized offices. The desk was empty, but she could hear voices
coming from one of the offices. “Hello?”

A blonde woman scurried from the nearest office, a frown on
her face. “
Bonjour
.” Her clipped speech was clipped indicated she had
been interrupted. Some welcome for a potential client.

Desiree bristled.
They knew to expect me
. She’d made
an appointment, rang the bell, but it still felt as if she’d arrived at an
inopportune time. “I had an appointment?”

A glimmer of light seemed to turn on in the blonde’s eyes. “
Oui!
”
She stumbled over words, struggling to find the right thing to say, or maybe
she was trying to find the English. Desiree wasn’t sure which. “Welcome. Please
come in and sit down.
Je suis
Marie. They will be with you in a few
minutes.” She extended her hand for Desiree to shake. “A meeting ran long.
Would you like something to drink?
Un café
? Water?” She spoke haltingly,
now obviously struggling to toggle between French and English.

Desiree shook her head. “
Rien, merci
. I’ll just wait
here then.”

The blonde relaxed immediately. Desiree’s use of just two
French words—No, thank you—put her at ease. She was just inches from a smile.
Desiree sat on the small couch the woman had gestured toward. Marie stayed for
a while, shuffling papers behind the small reception desk, then scurried away
toward the back of the offices after a few minutes.

Desiree waited about twenty minutes, her leg shaking as she
waited. If she took too long to get out of there, Sam might decide to
investigate and come inside behind her. Once that happened, there would be no going
back. She glanced at her watch and avoided playing with her phone. Finally,
just as Desiree was about to suggest they make an appointment for another time,
Marie emerged again.

“
S’il vous plaît
,” Marie stuttered. She seemed
slightly friendlier than she had the first time. “Please come with me.” Marie
barely waited for Desiree to stand up, instead she took off so fast, Desiree
barely had time to get to her feet. Desiree wiped her sweaty palms on her pants
and then stepped through the door behind Marie just in time to see her get to
the end of the narrow corridor and go into another office down at the end of
the hall. The hairs on the back of Desiree’s neck prickled as she rehearsed her
scenario in her head.
I need market research focus groups to figure out
which American design companies people trust. I want to expand my web design
services into France.
How hard could that be?

The hallway was dimmer than the entryway had been. Her heels
clicked on the dingy tile floor in the narrow passageway. She passed three
doors, all of which were closed. The woman seemed to be in quite a hurry. She
disappeared into the only open doorway so quickly Desiree almost missed her. By
the time she reached the small three-person conference room, Desiree was almost
out of breath.

She laughed playfully. “Things move fast around here.”

The woman shot her a terse smile but made no comment.
Instead, she straightened another stack of paper on the small round table. “
S’il
vous plaît
. Please. Have a seat. She will be right in to meet with you. Her
last meeting…” She paused, searching for words again. “How do you say? Went a
long time.”

So much for friendliness and making the customer feel at
home
, she thought. Desiree nodded, then pulled out a chair to sit. She
waited until the woman left, then looked quickly around the small room. It
seemed as normal as any other conference room she’d ever been in. There were no
extra exits she could see and no cameras. The room was basically a closet with
a glass wall and a few chairs plus a black conference call unit, a regular
phone in the corner and a dingy, overused looking white board. Nothing special.

Desiree fidgeted in her chair. The fabric was itchy on the
backs of her legs, even though her slacks. Although she was alone, there were a
lot of sounds around her. The walls were thin. Desiree swiveled her chair
toward the back wall. She could hear voices speaking in rapid-fire French,
almost too fast for her to understand. Although it sounded as if they might be
arguing, it was impossible to know for sure. So many French speakers always
sounded so emphatic about what they were talking about, no matter what it was.
They could be discussing the price of gas for all she knew and it would sound as
if the speakers were about to come to blows.

She strained to hear anyway. “Hmm. I think someone is upset
about keeping secrets,” she said out loud just in case it was important. Sam
was listening, she knew, but she wasn’t sure he could hear the people on the
other side of the wall and even if he could, her French was far better than
his. Their technology was good, but it wasn’t perfect. Shuffling in the hallway
caught her attention and her focus shifted to the doorway. Hushed voices now
seemed to be in a heated conversation just outside the room. She cleared her
throat and a woman popped her head inside the door.

Unlike Marie, her smile was bright, albeit disingenuous. “One
moment, please,” she said. “We will be right with you.” She turned her smile
off before she had a chance to turn back around. For a split second, it was
obvious the woman was indeed angry about something. They exchanged a few more
words and then the woman entered the room again, sighing heavily as she did.

She pulled out the chair across from Desiree and plopped
down into it. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. What can we do for you today?
You need help with some research? I understand you want to do business here in
France?”

Desiree nodded. “
Oui
. Specifically in Lille. I
understand there is great variation inside the country.” She threw herself
right in.

“You understand correctly. The north is very different from
Paris and still very different than people from Toulouse. You will see. We can
help you find out what you need to know in all areas, depending on your budget,
of course.” For all of the time she was talking, she didn’t look Desiree in the
eye and she spat the word “budget” as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

“Excuse me, but what is your name?” Desiree wanted to slow
things down a bit. Why had they overlooked the introductions?

“I’m so sorry. I have been preoccupied with other things
today.”

She suddenly felt a chill. “Maybe I should come back another
time,” Desiree said. It was clear the woman in front of her wasn’t in charge.
She stood, pretending she planned on leaving. “If you don’t have time to devote
to my project, I understand.”

The woman stood so abruptly she almost overturned the chair
she had been sitting in. “No, don’t go. I assure you…”

Desiree didn’t stop and forced herself to hide her smile. It
didn’t take much to ruffle feathers in this place. She walked around the small
table and through the conference door, running directly into another woman who
appeared to have been listening outside. The woman behind her stopped in her
tracks, her last words hanging in the air. The only sound was the clatter of a
cell phone hitting the dingy tile and skidding into a wall.

She struggled to bend down to retrieve it, her French-style
pencil skirt making the trip down slightly difficult. Desiree bent down too,
planning to be apologetic. Their heads bumped, sending the other woman
sprawling backward onto her butt. She yelled, looked up and locked eyes with
Desiree.

Desiree’s eyes narrowed with recognition. She put her finger
to her lips as she tried to place the woman. She’d seen her before, but wasn’t
quite sure where. And then the events of the party replayed in her head.

She saw herself, talking with the woman who had her feel her
fake breasts. She saw herself knocking over the picture and then picking it up.
In her mind’s eye, she looked at the picture and commented how much the woman
in it looked like her neighbor, Geneva. And then it hit her. The eavesdropping
woman on the floor was Geneva’s so-called disappeared sister, the one who had
moved to the country mysteriously. Her hair was a different color, but Desiree
was positive this woman was the crying woman they had met in the countryside
that day, after the accident too. She was here. At the missing dead man’s
company. The facts clicked through Desiree’s mind.

They both gasped at the same time. Before Desiree could even
open her mouth to speak, the woman was on her feet. She pushed Desiree to the
side, hard, and she slammed into the wall, sharp pain shooting through her left
shoulder. Before Desiree could recover, the woman had almost run the length of
the narrow corridor. The click of her heels as she fled was magnified and
almost sounded like pounding inside Desiree’s head.

Desiree barely had time to catch her breath. A flash of
anger hit her. For a split second, she wished she had a gun. That was certainly
uncalled for. Desiree steadied herself, briefly touching where the pain
started, then ran after the woman just as she slammed through the exit door at
the end of the hallway. She would have to nurse her wounds later.

The door clanged open as Desiree raced through it and burst
into the stairwell behind the woman. It seemed like only a few seconds had
passed but the Geneva lookalike had already run down two flights of stairs. The
woman took the stairs a few at time, clearly jumping where she needed to. She
was certainly not letting her very French pencil skirt hold her back.