The Red Cell André Gallo (essential reading .txt) 📖

“It depends whether Khazaee has been using his time in America wisely. I recall he has several assets who could prove useful, one on the East Coast and another on the West Coast. So far, he has been sleeping, and so have his assets. We will soon see if they are worth the money we have been spending on them. The time to bleed the Great Satan is near.”

“Al’hamdu Allah,” they both said quietly.

33. Paris

“Good morning, Madame Church,” Steve said, as he opened the curtains of their 16th Arrondissement penthouse apartment on their Parisian honeymoon.

“Bonjour, Cheri. It’s going to be a wonderful day. We’re not following anyone, and no one is following us. But, you broke one of your cardinal rules. This apartment building is located on a cul-de-sac.” Kella grinned.

“Well, as you said, no one is trying to kill us, I don’t think. Besides, it’s a gated street. And, your step-grandfather, the former head of the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure, chose this location. It’s his apartment. Don’t blame me.”

“Come here,” she said, pulling him down toward her on the bed.

“My wife is insatiable! A veritable sex maniac!”

Steve settled down beside her and pulled the sheet to uncover her body. “You are beautiful,” he said, gently caressing her bronze colored skin, being careful not to touch her bruises.

“That is a good start, my husband. Did I tell you that my tribe, the Tuareg, is run by the women? It is the men who wear the veil. You’ll get used to it.” She glanced down at him. “T’es beau, tu sais. I know, I know, that’s not original. Edith Piaf said it first.”

A while later, she returned from the kitchen with coffee, milk, and croissants. “This is called ‘café au lait au-lit.’”

They were sitting at a large table of dark wood in the dining room. “I am so sorry,” she told him, “Marshall and Kate were unable to attend the wedding yesterday.”

“Well,” Steve replied, “he is beginning to need more medical stuff, such as an AVAP at night, which is hard to travel with. And when my mother can’t be there, someone else has to be in the house. He can no longer be left by himself.”

“We’ll see him when we get back.”

“Speaking of going back to the States, were you there when that internationally famous photographer and her husband mentioned they have a condo in California we could use if we want to spend part of our honeymoon there?”

“You mean Elise and Didier? That’s true. She’s had her work featured in Paris, New York, and San Francisco. You don’t happen to remember her because she is a beautiful girl, do you? Her husband is Swiss, Didier Von Widmer. They met in London when she was studying for her master’s at Christie’s Education. He owns a gallery in Paris, and another in San Francisco. If you’re interested in their offer, we should call them. But for now, let’s just relax in Paris. What do you want to do? How well do you know Paris? I can be your guide. I didn’t spend all my time at the Ecole National d’Administration studying.”

“I bet.”

Steve walked over to the TV. “Let’s see what going on, whether there’s any more news about the Iran Air flight, whether the Nightingale has been uncovered.”

“Steve, this is our honeymoon. I hope you’re not going to be to be glued to the news.”

“Absolutely not.” He took a couple of steps and leaned over her, as she sat at the table. He kissed her cheek and slipped his hand inside her bathrobe. “I’m going to be glued to you.”

They both turned toward the TV, as an announcer said, “The mysterious action of the American Air Force last night is still a puzzle. However, our sources have confirmed the body carried off the plane on a stretcher was that of President Tremaine’s Chief of Staff, V.A. Dalton. The circumstances of her death are still under investigation. The Iranian Ambassador to the United Nations has requested that the Security Council condemn the American action as an act of terrorism. He further requested sanctions against the United States for breaching the sovereignty of the Islamic Nation. He had no comment to explain the presence of V.A. Dalton on the aircraft. Nor did he have anything to say about the circumstances of her death. The White House also has had no comment. There will be more news at the top of the hour.”

They sat and looked at each other silently for a moment.

“I wonder what type of cover story the White House is going to cook up to explain why the Nightingale was going to Tehran,” Steve said.

“We are out of it,” Kella said. “You told headquarters Yosemani could have gone to the transit lounge to take that flight to New York. You should call Trent to find out if the FBI picked them up there.”

“I thought you had lost interest. We’re on our honeymoon, remember?” Steve said, chuckling. “The way it works is that Trent called FBI headquarters, which either called or sent a cable to the Bureau in New York, who then had to determine the priority of the CIA request before committing resources and sending their agents to JFK Airport. Or, headquarters sent a cable to its office in New York, which then would get in touch with the local FBI office. In any case, I’m not optimistic. If Yosemani took the flight, he’s probably free as a bird somewhere in New York.”

“That’s not exactly a well-oiled machine. Yosemani should be in Guantanamo, not cooking up terrorist attacks in New York.” Seeing Steve’s raised eyebrows, she said “Okay, okay. Let’s take a walk. The Nightingale is a story for the grandchildren. My all-time favorite view in Paris is from the Trocadéro. It’s within walking distance, and there’s a restaurant where we can have