The Ghost of Flight 666

CHAPTER 17: Dinner on the Siene

Jean Brueget dropped Slade off at the quays. Slade wanted to have a drink and case the barge out before the meeting. Brueget left to collect his wife and melt into the background.

The boat at slip seven was a long, modern glass and aluminum vessel that seated several hundred people. They’d already cleaned the dining room from the previous cruise and were now accepting those guests with reservations. People were starting to fill the dinner section up, but most hadn’t arrived yet. The sailing wasn’t for another forty-five minutes and Parisians tried to be as tardy as possible without actually missing their appointments.

Slade walked to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. Unlike many things in Europe, the bartender delivered his much needed drink with French culinary punctuality. Slade walked around the barge familiarizing himself with the layout and looking for anyone who piqued his curiosity.

There was a singular woman who arrived early. She couldn’t escape his notice, or anyone else’s for that matter. She was a tiny Asian woman, Phillipino or Indonesia, if he were to guess. She cradled a Manhattan in here slight hand, giving her dark eyes an enchanting expression beneath her long lashes. Her blue evening gown was beautiful and expensive; but it wasn’t nearly as expensive as the diamonds she wore around her neck, wrists and fingers. She was dazzling.

He recognized her from Freddy’s file.

“Eva?” Slade said with a confident smile. “I’m Mr. Slade.”

She cocked her head slightly to the side, “J. Slade?”

He held out his hand. She took it daintily. “Yes, Jeremiah Slade,” he said, pronouncing his first name without the usual humiliated hatred that he reserved for it. “I am pleased to meet you Ms. Accompando.”

“It’s a relief not to be meeting with Waters,” Eva said firmly, with that self-assurance that meant she was comfortable in expressing her opinions no matter what they were. “He is an odious ideologue, almost impossible to deal with; it’s incredible to me that President Oetari can stand him.”

“Do you know the president?” Slade asked, leading her to their table and pulling out the chair for her.

She took the act of chivalry in stride, as if she was used to it. Slade thought that was probably understandable on her part. She answered his question as if it were no great thing. “Yes, of course, I’ve met President Oetari many times. He’s good friends with my employer Mr. Soekarno.”

“So you are based in Singapore?” Slade asked, sitting down across from her.

“No, although I spent quite a bit of time there. I travel almost constantly between New York, Paris, Honk Kong and Duluth.”

“Duluth — Minnesota?” he said with surprise.

Eva sighed, “My husband is a merchant marine captain. He originally sailed on the Great Lakes. When the iron ore business slackened he took to ocean going ships, but he wanted to maintain the family house in Duluth so he could see his beloved Vikings play. That means he spends much of his autumn and winter in the cold and I spend them in Maui.”

“I feel your pain. I was born in Minnesota. I have been trying to get the Vikings out of my system for almost forty years.”

Eva laughed. “Have you succeeded?”

“No!”

The dinner barge pulled out of the slip and started down the Seine. They passed under the bridge at Point D’Alma and headed toward the golden statues along the bridge named for Alexander III. Beyond they could see the lights for the Louvre.

The waiter took their order, freshened their drinks and departed. Eva raised her glass to her lips. “Now, before we get serious about business tell me a bit about yourself Mr. Slade, or do you prefer to be called Jeremiah.”

“No!” he said quickly. “I never go by that name or its derivatives, thank you.”

“What if someone wants to be familiar with you?” she asked coquettishly.

“Even my mother doesn’t use that name; not unless she’s very, very angry.”

“Perhaps you should go by your middle name, many people do.”

“I can’t do that either,” he lamented.

“Is it that bad?”

“Milton,” he told her reluctantly. “My grandfather.”

“Slade it is then,” she chuckled. She turned softly serious, looking askance at him. “You said mother instead of wife; you’re not married then?”

“No.”

“A momma’s boy? Do you live with your parents?”

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression,” he sighed. “No, they are out adventuring in Maui. As for myself, the State Department keeps me in D.C. I have a little farmhouse in Virginia.”

“No woman though? You’re not handsome enough to be gay.”

“Thank you for that!” he laughed.

Eva had done enough probing. “Okay, Slade tell me, how is it that you were forced into this deal. Somehow I can’t see you as Water’s right hand man?”

“No, thank you again,” Slade smiled. “To tell you the truth I couldn’t be in the same room as Waters. When I was in the military we used to drop bombs on people like him. No, I’m on loan from State, doing some research on the jihadist demonstrations over here.”

“What kind of research?” she said with just a hint of suspicion.

He shrugged, and said, “You’re a true cosmopolitan Ms. Accompando. You know that what happens in Europe eventually comes to the States. I’m just trying to gauge these groups so that we can deal with them more effectively.”

“Such as who amongst the leadership to make disappear?” she jabbed.

“Hardly Ms. Accompando,” he complained.

“Eva,” she corrected.

“Eva,” he agreed.

The waiter brought their dinner. As they ate she began to talk business. “I’ve seen the proposed shipping order Mr. Slade. The order requires special handling, an open air hull of special design. The Atlas, in fact, which is still working on the “Palm” project. Why did you come to me Mr. Slade; we don’t own that ship? Can’t you talk directly to the company?”

“Unfortunately not,” Slade told her. Having read Freddy’s brief he was completely aware of every facet of the unique and mysterious deal. “You see the Dutch aren’t all that keen on loaning their ship to the Iranians.”

“You’re here on behalf of the Iranians then,” she ventured.

“We have an interest in seeing this deal get done,” he said.

“You’re allies with the Europeans,” she reminded him. “I’m not sure why you’re talking to me instead of the Dutch government.”

“Let’s just say this administration has temporarily degraded the level of trust between the United States and its historic allies,” he sighed. “We’re in a time crunch. We need to get this done. You are renowned for getting things done. Therefore, we came to you.”

“I assume you know then that I come neither cheap nor easily.”

“Money is not a problem,” he told her. “We simply want the Atlas to ferry the cargo from Bandar Abbas to Abu Dhabi.”

“Across the Straits of Hormuz? That’s a very short distance. What’s the nature of the cargo?”

“Sensitive,” he said firmly.

“I have to catalogue it, especially these days, and especially from Iran,” she said with equal resolve. “You understand that these days there is a great deal of scrutiny on shipments. We have the safety of the ship and the crew to worry about.”

“The Iranians will crew the ship and the Atlas will be escorted by the United States Navy. There will be United Nations inspectors supervising the shipment from loading to debarkation. You cannot ask for a more secure situation.”

“I still need to know the cargo. Do you think the Dutch will lease out their vessel to the Iranians in ignorance?”

Slade sighed, but smiled, “The Dutch are well known for their nuclear disarmament policies. This should make them happy. The cargo is three tons of enriched Uranium which the Iranians are moving from Bandar Abbas to a United Nations storage facility in Abu Dhabi.”

Eva whistled. “That’s certainly a high profile cargo. However, this is a difficult climate to be working with the Iranians.”

“This will help defuse some of the current tension.”

“When do the Iranians want it?”

“Then we have a deal?”

“We do; we only have to draw up the contract with all the particulars.”

Slade held up his phone. “They’re all right here.”

Eva bumped her own against his. “I have your information and you have my price. There you have everything you need to know Mr. Slade. Shall we consider our business finished?”

“Certainly.”

To his surprise, Eva smiled and stood up. Politely, he stood as well. She patted his cheek, and said, “Good night Jeremiah. It really was pleasant doing business with you. Say hello to Waters for me, but do not wish him well.”

She turned and left the restaurant, heading out to the deck.

Since they were in the middle of the Seine, Slade was curious as to where she was going. He followed her out onto the deck. The cool river breeze felt good. Eva, however, wasn’t out for a breath of air. She went straight to the rail. There was a yacht keeping perfect pace with the river boat. A gangway was lowered at the rail and Eva stepped off of the river boat and onto the yacht. The gangway rose after Eva stepped on board the yacht’s deck. She turned to see him standing at the rail and waved.

“I look forward to hearing the rest of your story one of these days Mr. Slade.”

“You make a splash wherever you go — don’t you Eva?”

As the yacht sped forward Eva called out.

“Always! Good night Jeremiah, pleasant dreams!”