The ladder man stood huddled in the doorway arguing obstreperously with the party on the other end of the phone. The failure to keep track of Richard was pointed out in no uncertain terms by a raging Nathan who threatened to post them all to the Antarctic.

The other members of the team, the woman and the elderly couple sat in a car just down the block, all mulling over uncertain futures while they waited.

"He is such an asshole." The ladder man said climbing back into the car.

"What's wrong, Terrance?" The woman in the front asked.

"He's erupting because I said he was probably the last one to see Richard before we lost him."

"You said that to Nathan!"

"Why not? You think Murray wasn't watching the lot of us? Now we are supposed to wait to hear from him."

"That's not true," the elderly man said "You were at the restaurant when he was supposed to meet Monique."

"Yes, but he didn't meet her, did he? So I never did see him."

"I think Sol's splitting hairs here." The grey haired woman placed a soothing hand on the elderly man's arm. "The point is not to lay blame but to find Richard before we are all in Nathan's bad books, big time."

"Good point, Minnie." Tracy leaned forward from the rear seat. "The bit in the square with the kid was a disaster and you calling me on your cell was certainly a huge breach of protocol."

"I thought the point was not to lay blame," Terrance complained again. "You seemed to be having trouble." He griped.

"That doesn't excuse breaking protocol."

"I was just saying." Tracy sat back and crossed her arms.

"It was poor tradecraft, Terrance." Sol couldn't resist adding.

"Alright, let's get past all this trivia, calm down and tackle our problem." Minnie sighed.

The group sat in silence, each waiting for the other to make a suggestion. Tracy spoke up and asked if they should contact Sam and have him wait where he is until they hear from Murray.

"Oh, are we going to break protocol now?"

"This is different Terrance."

"Sure, because you suggested it."

"Children! Please, can we behave as we should . . . professionally?"

"Good idea let's go and find him, we can still hear what Murray has to say and brainstorm on the way."

Sol nodded and assisted Minnie into the back then made himself comfortable in the passenger seat. The car started and jerked away from the curb in response to Terrance being reduced to chauffeur.

***************

"What are those incompetents doing now?" Nathan inhaled half the oxygen in the room. He had flung the phone against the wall after listening to Terrance and paced about spitting invective.

"I just spoke to Sam; they are regrouping to come up with a new strategy based on what I told him."

"And that was?"

"Richard's last movements. Where he was staying. The stolen vehicle he drove and what he did with it."

"Why don't I just send you to fetch him, Murray, you seem to have all the facts."

"I think I'm better being of service here with you, sir."

"Hmmm . . . yes, I suppose. As soon as Monique learns what we want we will need to deal with her too."

"Precisely, sir."

"Keep on them, Murray. I don't want those fools driving Richard so far underground we never find him." A cloud of smoke enveloped Nathan and it seemed as if he was going to vanish like some magic act.

"Meantime, sir, shouldn't we be contacting our sources and advising them of the new procedures?"

"Right. I'll take care of that we'll activate her tomorrow, and Murray, see that Monique understands we are not open to any more of her deceit. Complete obedience and nothing less is her new mantra."

"I'll see to it, sir."

"Nothing too . . . persuasive. Just assurance that she thoroughly understands her position."

Murray gave a tight bow and left quietly.

Italy - October 2011

At noon Richard was strolling up and down the trot admiring the different boats anchored there. For October the weather was amazingly mild and calm. The harbor sparkled like silver foil in the noon sun. In the distance he could see the impressive architecture of the Palazzo San Giorgio, which became the very bank where Monique had squirreled their funds. He was almost tempted to walk in and ask for the money.

On his latest turn from the end he spotted the young woman in a pair of track pants and a light sweater, striding past the restaurant toward her boat and he raised his hand in a wave. She slowed and looked around then continued to her boat, jumping on board and tossing her pack onto a shelf below the steering wheel. The engine chugged to life and Richard broke into a quick lope reaching the boat in time to cast off and leap on board.

"Am I being presumptive?" he called, steadying himself as the boat made a tight arc out of the marina. "I took your parting comment as a possible luncheon agreement."

"I don't eat here." She steered the boat professionally through the small canals and out into the Golfo di Genova without any further explanation. Richard seated himself and held on as the boat slapped wickedly over the water, its pilot commanding his admiration for both her skill and her sexy appearance standing legs apart, leaning with her hips for balance as she changed course. He wondered if Chris Columbus would have left Genoa had he set eyes on a young woman as fetching.

The trip was a little over thirty miles and lasted just over an hour with Richard huddling low in the craft, uncomfortably cool. René didn't mind a little speed across the water he noticed with some trepidation. He saw the end of a peninsula coming up in front of them and she steered the boat toward the marina at the foot of the town of Portovenere.

"Is this some place special?" He called.

"It is to me." She slowed the engine and guided the boat through a narrow canal into a small harbor where several other boats were tied up alongside a long pier. Cutting the engine, René turned the wheel and slipped between a pair of outboards with amazing dexterity and barely nudged the wooden pier. She jumped out and made a quick series of knots then stood with her hands on her hips and stared down at him.

"Coming?"

Richard stood and shakily made his way to the side of the boat and hauled himself up onto the pier.

"Toss me that bag. Not much of a sailor are you?" She caught the bag and turned without awaiting his answer and started toward the shore.

"So it would appear." He called, following her incredibly saucy gait.

She jumped down onto a sandy strip and then climbed up to a gravel path that led around a stone monument dedicated to a unit of the WW2 resistance that defended the area from a superior force of German soldiers. She disappeared and when he rounded the monument she was sitting at a small table on the deck of a cozy looking little ristorante.

"Well, this is a surprise." He pulled out a chair and sat opposite her.

"It's my favourite place to eat."

"You must have a very long lunch period."

"My hours are flexible."

"Do you live over here somewhere?"

"I have a place not far from here, it's within walking distance." She handed him a plastic laminated menu and suggested the fish cakes with a glass of the local beer.

"Not some exotic vintage wine?"

"Beer goes better with fish."

"I'll bow to your expert knowledge."

He put the menu down and studied the surroundings. The entire structure was made of weathered wood with the cliché nets and shells dangling from beams and wall hooks. The deck held only four small tables with well worn, red and white checkered cloths and cushion-less wooden chairs. Hurricane lamps were mounted on a few of the roof supports and also looked well used. All in all he felt it was what the local residents felt was both comfortable for them and obligatory for tourists.

René sat up as a jolly looking man wearing a white apron over a short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt and shorts hurried up to the table.

"Chris this is a friend, Richard Carstairs. Richard, this is Christopher Bonaparte the owner and chef extraordinaire."

Oddly surprised that she remembered his name and that he was introduced as a friend, Richard shook the strong hand of the little man.

"Aren't shorts a little cool in October?"

Christopher looked at him. "The kitchen gets very warm."

"Oh! Right. Sorry, I wasn't being critical, just surprised." He felt his embarrassment and picked up the menu. "René tells me I must order fish cakes with island beer.

"Ah, of course she would. It is her own favourite. Today it is sole and the beer is from tank four. He looked at René. "Is that satisfactory, René?"

She paused and looked at Richard. "Perfect, Chris. And we'll have a basket of bread please."

"Instantly." He turned away with a flourish and rushed back inside.

"Tank four?"

Once again she paused, running a tongue over her upper lip.

"There are six. They uh, represent the age. One is new, six is the oldest. It's a little strong for me."

Richard studied her. "Why did you accept my offer for lunch?"

"You asked me."

"That's it, I asked you? Seems awfully easy, particularly when you transport me an hour away from town. How come boys aren't lined up with offers?"

"I don't encourage a lot of attention."

His face must have registered his surprise because she twisted the edge of the cloth and shone a pair of bright blue eyes on his.

"You are a whimsical departure from that. I guess you caught me at an impulsive moment."

"I've been called a lot of things but whimsical is a new one. Should I be flattered, insulted or just stay confused?"

"That would be your choice, I don't know you well enough to assume your feelings."

"You are a very strange woman, René."

"You have that right, signore." Chris slid up to the table with two plates heaped with fish cakes, salad and two large glasses of very dark looking beer. "Our Madame Moreau is noted for her idiosyncrasies, eh caro mio?" René just smirked and looked away. "Our little gamin is a conundrum for the young men of the district. They drive themselves crazy trying to breach her defenses." Christopher clapped his hands and pecked her cheek before giving Richard a wink and departing.

"I guess I just stay confused." He chuckled and cut into one of the fish cakes. "Mmm, delicious. Thanks for making the choice."

She stared at him for a moment then smiled a secret smile.

"What?"

"I am assuming you are referring to the food."

Richard blanked for a second and then laughed. "Actually, it applies to both of your choices. I guess I should be flattered if what your friend says is true."

"Chris tends to dramatize." She picked up her beer and took a long pull, licking the foam from her lips with a tiny pink tongue.

"Well whatever the reasons, I'm happy about the outcome . . . for both choices." He raised his glass in a salute and drank.

The lunch continued with small talk about the area, René, her boat and what she did for a living. Richard used his skills to elicit all the information he needed without offending or raising flags, yet retained the odd sense that he was missing something.

The town was home to less than sixty thousand people, mostly fishermen and retirees around René's area. The young men Chris referred to were mainly weekend tourists and some local sons. René worked in Genoa as an assistant in a flower shop; it was her second job to help defray expenses. Her main income was from proof reading for a small print shop in Genoa that handled, principally, technical material.

"That gives you enough to maintain a place out here and run your boat?"

"Technical books are quite expensive and so is everything connected to their production."

"Is your place far from here?" Richard saw a blind start down behind her eyes and just waited.

"I told you, walking distance." Her voice was flat.

"Nice location?"

"If you are angling for an invitation home you can forget it."

"Hey, I was just curious. Can't I even see the place?"

"I have to get back to the print shop to pick up some work." She made a point of looking at her watch, a large dial with a worn leather strap.

"I'm sorry if I came on like the ogling pervert." He tried a little contriteness.

She gave him a long look and then checked her watch again. If we go now you can have a look at the cottage but then I have to go." She waved to Christopher for the bill.

"Please accept this lunch on the house, René it is such a treat to see you here with an escort." Christopher clasped his hands and rolled on the balls of his feet.

Richard could see a molten glow rising in her cheeks and he held up a hand. "That's a very gracious offer, Chris, but I think you should save that generosity for a time when the escort is more suitable, René and I are simply having a one off lunch, nothing to light signal fires over."

His face fell but Christopher bowed and set a bill on the table, apparently it had been ready just in case. René glanced at Richard and blinked her thanks for stepping in and dropped an amount on the table without looking at the bill.

"Shall we?" She rose, pecked Chris on the cheek and led Richard off the deck and around the side to a winding gravel path.