Blitzed(114)

Close to the bridge that leads to the island that Notre Dame is built upon, we found the exact type of street stall I was looking for, serving pommes frites, or French fries, and a sandwich in a baguette. "Here, nothing beats the way they do it here," I said, handing Jordan a large cone filled with the fried potatoes. “I’m sure the British would disagree, but who cares what they think?"

The vendor, who apparently understood more English than he let on — like many Parisians — grinned and nodded. Jordan laughed and smiled. "Merci."

The man grinned in appreciation, charmed by her attempt. We continued on, Jordan relishing the potatoes, which in the French tradition had been covered with a mayonnaise based sauce instead of ketchup. "I don't think I'll ever eat a fry the same way again," she said, licking a blob of mayo off her finger in a very arousing yet unladylike way. “Geez, how do you stay so thin with stuff like this around?”

"At our place in the Rhone, we have our ways,” I promised her. "It’s one of the ways that Papa trained Felix and I. Anyway, we’ll be doing a lot of walking today, I’m sure. I’m glad you chose tennis shoes instead of something more chic and fashionable. I knew one girl who insisted on wearing high heels for almost everything, and walking in Paris cut her ankles to shreds."

"I'm sure you had no qualms about tending to the young lady's wounds," Jordan teased, causing me to blush. Laughing, she kissed me on the cheek. "Don't worry, Francois, I'm not jealous."

Notre Dame is probably the most famous church in the world, and even in the middle of winter it was crowded with tourists. Flanked by old trees, the plaza in front was neatly trimmed, the shrubs waiting for the coming of spring. "An important place to people of my background," I joked as we admired the outer decorations. We passed a group of Americans who sounded like they were from Alabama or Georgia or someplace like that, and I looked up at the bell towers. "Sanctuary, and all that."

"Yet I’m the Esmeralda this time," Jordan replied, "although you hardly look at all like Quasimodo."

We joined a tour group, staying within earshot as the guide explained various things to them in passable English. I felt bad for the tourists, though, as the guide seemed to have forgotten every adjective other than 'famous.' In the course of the ten minutes we were near them, she used the term 'famous French' to describe at least half a dozen different things. Jordan noticed too, and on the way back to the barge, we both descended into utter silliness. "Ah, it is the famous French street lamp," I noted, causing Jordan to giggle helplessly.

"Along the famous French river," Jordan laughed, leaning on my arm. We continued on, until both of us nearly breathless with laughter. We rested against a building, Jordan in my arms, and she turned her eyes up to mine. "And what of the famous French kiss?"



That evening, after Jordan had gone to sleep, I left the barge again, this time taking the Metro to Stade Charlety. Underneath the larger soccer and rugby stadium I found what I was looking for, the small indoor arena. Inside, the Paris Volley volleyball team was practicing, the stands mostly empty except for a few dedicated fans and my contact.

"They’re not shit compared to Dynamo Moscow," my contact said in a heavy accent.

"You didn’t come here just to watch men in overly tight uniforms jump around playing volleyball," I countered. "Besides, women's volleyball is much more entertaining."

"Spoken like a man who’s not in a new relationship," my contact said. "Are things not as I was led to believe?"

I glowered and shook my head. "Things are fine there, not that it’s your business. On the other hand, your business is telling me you have your eyes on a special item.”

"There’s an item within the Institut du Monde Arabe that my employer wishes to have," he said. "A twelfth-century illuminated copy of the Quran, one of the most valuable copies in existence. It belonged to the great Saladin himself, according to legend at least. What would a fair price for such an item be?"

"If you assist me with my problem I spoke to you about, it wouldn’t be much," I said. “Just one condition.”

“And what’s this condition?" he asked curiously as I gathered my few items and prepared to leave.

"This is a deception, so you must approach Felix as if we’ve never talked. I have an easy way to get him involved without it looking like a setup. If your employer can figure out a way to get him alone, that would be best."

"Agreed. We’ll contact you in about a week. Until then, have a pleasant day."

I left the arena, heading back towards the Metro station. Along the way I stopped at a late night chocolatier, picking up fourteen truffles, a dozen for Jordan while I enjoyed two on the way back to the barge. Getting back on board, it was my turn to find Felix sitting on the deck watching the lights. He was sipping at a large mug of coffee, a habit he'd picked up in America, favoring huge cups over the tiny flavor-packed sips I preferred. "How was your walk?"

"I picked up some chocolates for Jordan," I said, showing him the box. Felix inhaled the aroma and nodded in appreciation. "Think she’ll enjoy them?"

“Who doesn’t like chocolate? Anyway, I heard you two had a great time today. Jordan even said you were the perfect gentleman.”