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Side Mission: Hit and Miss, part 2

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  • chanteuse_mysterieux
    Location: Hotel la Perouse Who: Lester, Ripley, and Lucet Time: 6:15 p.m. - Sunday Ripley s contact, Pierre had done exactly what she told him to do...a little
    Message 1 of 2 , Aug 1, 2006
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      Location: Hotel la Perouse
      Who: Lester, Ripley, and Lucet
      Time: 6:15 p.m. - Sunday

      Ripley's contact, Pierre had done exactly what she told him to do...a
      little too well. She and Trent Lester found themselves standing in a
      hotel room, for which they were registered as Monsieur and Madame Smith.

      The room had a single desk, with Internet access plug-ins, a single
      bathroom and a single dresser, which was fine because neither had many
      cltohes in their overnight bags.

      "Cozy," said Ripley. "I'm going to call my contact at the French
      Ambassador to the UN's office."

      "Okay," said Trent as he headed to the televison. "I'll see if there is
      anything on the news."

      Ripley watched Lester put on the television and switch to CFII, France's
      answer to international TV news channels like CNN and BBC, before she
      pulled out her satellite phone and began pressing *7 on her
      speed dial. Sylvie wasn't just her French contact, but a good
      long-distance friend as well. Of course, Sylvie lived in Paris and
      Ripley was in Nice, but beggars and choosers, she reminded herself. She
      and Lester needed all the help they could get.

      "Bureau de Sylvie Lucet, Secrétaire Français," answered someone in
      French. "Comment peux-je vous aider?"

      "Merci, Sylvie, S'il vous plaît?" asked Ripley as she sat down on the
      bed, the only one in the room.

      "Âllo? C'est Sylvie," the Frenchwoman said as she answered her phone.
      She had just picked up her café crème when her assistant had
      passed along the call.

      "Sylvie, it's Wilma," Ripley said relieved. "Hold on, I'm hooking the
      phone up to the laptop so we can have a sort of speaker phone."

      Ripley moved to the tiny desk and began doing as she sai dshe was. She
      hooked up the satellite phone then stepped back. "Sylvie, can you hear
      us?" she asked.

      "Bah ouais. We, Wilma? Qui est là?" Sylvie asked.

      Trent sighed inexaggeration as the news played out in front of him. It
      was actually a mgazine peice about how a large number of young French
      citizens between the ages of 20 and 30 were going to London of all
      places to find their fortune. As in America, the main headlines scrolled
      across the bottom of the screen, however it appeared to be mostly
      national and international news. Pherhaps one house wasn't big
      enough news - yet.

      "In English, Sylvie," Ripley said glancing over to Lester, not sure if
      he spoke the language as she did, but of course, she spoke it badly.
      "We have a guest. Trent Lester, may I introduce Sylvie Lucet of the
      French Ambassador's cabinet."

      "Bonjor Mandemoiselle." Trent said, leaving the TV playing on some
      yuppie french girl talking about her cheese shop in Soho.

      "But of course. My apologies, Monsieur Lester. What has inspired this
      call, Wilma?" Sylvie was intriegued and added a few cubes of sugar to
      her coffee while she waited for the American woman to explain. Calls
      from Wilma usually livened up otherwise dull days.

      "We've gotten ourselves into a pickle, Sylvie. Let me explain," said
      Ripley then, in as brief a detail as she could, she related the
      explosion at Dr. Eve Jonet's chalet. "We need help, Sylvie, not only
      with the police investigation, but with our own."

      "I will do what I can, but you know that, when I am discreet,
      myabilities are limited," Sylvie reminded her.

      "Oui, I know," Ripley said with a sigh. "I have a contact on the police
      force here in Nice who is also helping us gain access to things like the
      autopsy reports, but what I need from you is a cover,
      something in the way of diplomatic immunity. It won't be hard to trace
      who rented the car that poor Warrick the dead driver was working for.
      And about a dozen home owners probably saw Lester and I outside of Dr.
      Jonet's chalet."

      Trent listened to the two women, looking from the laptop, back to
      Ripley. He decided to let Ripley handle things, lest he ruin the contact
      with his trademark wit.

      "Ah, oui, je te comprende," she muttered to herself. "C'est un peu
      difficile mais..." The Frenchwoman pulled herself out of her thoughts
      and began speaking to Ripley again. "Send to me what cover you are
      using currently for your hôtel reservations and other such things and
      I will do what I can. Come to the fête, pardon me, the party at the
      Consulate in Paris tomorrow. I will have what documents I can manage
      for you then."

      Ripley frowned as she glanced back at Lester. In all the excitement and
      the chase, she had forgotten that the Englishman was a civilian in all
      this. Hmm, he hadn't even signed a contract or anything, and wasn't
      likely going to do it now.

      She shook her thoughts back to the the matter at hand and refocused on
      Sylvie's voice.

      "As always, the less I know, the better," Sylvie said wryly. "Oh, Wilma,
      ma cherie, this will be a formal evening, you know, several
      international ambassadors will be there. Try to blend in?"

      "Who blends better than me?" Ripley asked coyly. "Until tomorrow,
      Sylvie."

      "À plus tard," Sylvie said and hung up.

      As soon as she was off the line, Ripley began disconnecting the
      satellite phone. "It occurs to me, Trent that this has all been terribly
      unfair to you," she said as she pulled the phone away. She stood up and
      faced him. "I'm sorry. But I can't in good conscience ask you to
      participate further in this situation. I will meet Sylvie and get to the
      bottom of this. First thing tomorrow morning, I'll contact some of the
      people I know in the field and we'll get you on a plane back to the UK.
      This, Mr. Lester, is where our paths must diverge."

      tag
    • Dan
      Location: Hotel la Perouse Who: Lester and Ripley Time: 6:30 p.m. - Sunday Lester shook his head. He couldn t walk away, not now. As a kid he may start to
      Message 2 of 2 , Aug 9, 2006
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        Location: Hotel la Perouse
        Who: Lester and Ripley
        Time: 6:30 p.m. - Sunday

        Lester shook his head. He couldn't walk away, not now. As a kid he
        may start to read a hundred books at once, but as soon as he finished
        page one, he had to finish the end of the book to.

        "No, there isn't going to be any diverging. Aside from the rather
        worrying idea that Jonet and I might be on the same list twice -
        yours and her killer's, there is also the matter of the job. Since
        Jonet is no longer a candidate, does that mean I get the job?"

        Ripley was surprised at the Englishmen, who had just seen more death
        and destruction in a day than most agents saw in a year. "You still
        want it?" she asked him surprised.

        He raised an eyebrow. "What is that delightful American expression I
        heard on one of those wrestling shows." He paused for a moment then
        snapped his finger. "Ah yes, 'this ain't my first barbeque.'. I've
        been in some tricky spots before this. Remind me to tell you about
        how Hong Kong almost made Iraq look like a package holiday in
        Blackpool"

        Ripley gave Lester an eye roll before moving away from him. She moved
        to the front of the hotel room where their bags were. "This isn't a
        barbeque," she began but the image of Jonet's charred remains made
        her shiver. "This is dangerous work and its on a global level.
        However, if you think you can handle it, then I am clearly out of
        options. I want the best, and I'll take you if I can have you."

        "In that case, October 1st." He said.

        Ripley frowned and turned to face him with a small black briefcase in
        her hand. She had just removed it from the suitcase. "What is October
        1st?" she asked coming back over towards the bed, where Lester was
        standing.


        "My birthday... for the office calendar." he said with a grin

        Rolling her eyes and trying to ignore him, Ripley opened the
        briefcase, and then removed the false layer to reveal a secret
        compartment in the bottom of the suitcase that had currency for
        different areas of the world, including Europe. She pulled out nearly
        1000 Euros. "If you're on board, we need to buy some clothes. I can't
        take you to the ball looking like Tom Baker just stepped out of the
        public call box. You're going to have to look a little less bookish
        and a little more dapper. Think James Bond."

        Ripley smiled as she took the money and folded it into her
        purse. "Now come on, we have to make this trip before our pictures
        are splashed across the news," she said heading for the door.

        "In my defense, I'm not wearing a scarf." he said as he followed her
        out of the door. "Besides, I can do dapper... its just comfier this
        way. "But since you're the boss..."

        "And don't forget it," Ripley said as she held open the door for
        Lester. "Ever."

        JP by the Brit and the Boss
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