French Awakenings Pt. 09

We all arrived back at the main complex in time for lunch, in the absence of both Jane and myself, Dominique had taken on the catering mantle and had six or seven loaves, a bucket of salad, literally, because there were so many of us she'd got bought two buckets from LeClerc, the big DIY store, and filled them with lettuce and chicory, pouring olive oil and red wine vinegar over them. To go with it she had several ripe soft cheeses and, in case there were any squeamish people that didn't like soft cheese, a couple of slabs of Emmental. Six bottles of Sancerre were chilling nicely next to a pile of cantaloupe melons and a couple of big bowls of cherries. She'd clearly been shopping at the farmshops we'd passed on the way to the dance studio.

Jane was telling everyone to keep lunch light as we had the dance scenes in the afternoon. I couldn't see a sign of Chris, and no one seemed to know where he was, I tried calling him, but his phone rang until it switched to voicemail. Carl was the only person with any idea,

"He had to go out an hour or so back, said something about meeting the FBI guy from the embassy. He shouldn't be long."

OK, that explained where he'd gone. A note might have been useful, and it would be nice if he could answer his phone. I told myself he was probably in a meeting and couldn't talk, he does get pretty focussed. I expected he would reappear sooner or later unaware how long he'd been gone, and when he did, I would make a show of being annoyed that he'd gone without leaving a message before forgiving him.

With everyone in one place Sandy pulled a suitcase into the dining room and flipped it open to reveal a mix of colourful outfits.

"First up is Bollywood style, everyone please. Mona, Paul can you be camera people, Chris? Sound?" she looked around quizzically. "Chris?"

Carl told us all Chris had been called to a meeting with the local FBI representative and should be back later. He added pointlessly that it was probably to do with the Ransomware attack. Well Der.

Darren said he could set the sound up if someone else could hold the microphones, looking at me, which of course, I could. Jane was tasked with holding a sunlight reflector and that was about it..

Sandy, Darren and Carol changed into their swimming costumes and carried their dance outfits in a shopping bag, which confused me a bit, but I ignored it on the grounds that someone probably had a plan. Which they did, it all became clear when we got to the pool, Darren was filmed falling headfirst into the water and floating face down for a moment, Carol rolled half in and half out and Sandy staggered off to collapse onto the grass.

"OK, great folks, if the three swimmers can get into Bollywood dress, we'll go live in ten." He snapped his fingers to emphasise the point.

Darren, Sandy and Carol stood together on the edge of the pool in their bright primary-coloured outfits, Carl counted them down and fired up some Bhangra music from his phone over a Bluetooth speaker, they did a short routine poolside then skipped across to the grass where in dribs and drabs everyone else joined them until there were ten of them dancing in five pairs. To be honest, it looked fabulous, and I was jealous I couldn't be part of the scene.

The dance scene took an hour or more to complete for a three-minute sequence, with cameras moving among the dancers to get different viewpoints and re-shooting the same scene from several angles. Once Carl was satisfied, he had all the dance footage he'd need, he got Sandy to collapse onto the grass, then Carol to roll into the edge of the pool and finally Darren took another dive.

Carl called "Cut" and let everyone know we'd be Line Dancing when it got dark later and next up was a scene with Luc, Dominique, Mona and Paul in thirty minutes. People scurried in all directions, sometimes I had to be reminded this was actually a production line and seeing the professionalism and dedication on display brought it home.

We'd been in full view of the main gate and Chris hadn't come back, I tried his number again and still no answer, checking the time I thought he was going to be starving when he got back unless the FBI were kind enough to buy him lunch. I was still more miffed than worried. That came later.

I got Jane to cover the couples scene and borrowed her car to go back and check the villa, no sign of him there but slightly more ominously his passport and laptop were gone, I'd already checked the main complex and hadn't seen the computer anywhere. I drove back to catch up with Darren to see if he knew where it might be.

I tracked him down in the shower, banged on the door and shouted "You decent in there? I need a quick word."

A cheery "Come on in, I'm good" came back so I walked in. Darren wiped water out of his eyes and apologised. "Sorry Nix, I thought it was Jane. I just heard a British accent. Any chance you could check my back anyway, that mud got everywhere."

"Turn around, I'll look from here." I told him.

With mock sorrow he slumped his shoulders, pushed out his lower lip and turned around. Bugger. Despite splashing around in the pool, twice, there was a big smear of dirt between his shoulder blades. Getting him to bend down and turn off the shower so I wasn't soaked I took the sponge from him and scrubbed it away. Once he was clean, he rinsed, shut the shower down again, actually wiped the interior down with a squeegee which put him up many rungs in my estimation, and stepped out. I passed him a towel and enjoyed the sight of the tall tightly muscled young man drying himself.

He could see the enjoyment I was getting from the view and paused, in a carefully selected pose showing off his muscles and his magnificent cock, asking "Would you be interested in erm, maybe not for work but one evening maybe erm the two of us..."

Ooh. Interesting.

"Only if Chris is there too, we are a package, err" I struggled for the right word and lamely settled on "socially." That didn't seem to concern Darren, he nodded, "Yeah, that would be cool. We'll see what happens then."

I was flustered, I'd been distracted from my purpose, I dragged my mind back to my immediate concern. "Darren, Chris is nowhere to be seen, Last time I saw him was with you before we went out to do the shoot around seven or eight hours ago, no note, no text message, no voicemail. His laptop and passport are missing as well. I've tried calling a million times but no answer. Nothing. I'm not worried, well yes, I am worried. Can you do that thing with my phone to see where his phone is? "

Darren was instantly out of trying it on mode and into concern for his mate mode, he took the outstretched iPhone and swiped, clicked and tapped it for a minute or two, then held the screen up to me. "He's in Bordox"

I took the phone back, checked the screen and revised the location "Bordeaux. What the fuck's he doing there?"

I felt a strong hand grip my shoulder and a concerned voice told me "He's fine, I'm sure. Let's go see if I can get out of this evening's shoot and we'll see if we can't work it out."

Then added

"After I get dressed."

He could, Jane said she'd make up the numbers despite not being a man, Sandy made ominous sounding suggestions about a strap on and how it might bring a dark vibe to the scene. I left before it got too scary, pleased to see I still had a comfort zone that could be pushed.

We relocated to the admin office where Darren grabbed his own laptop and plugged my iPhone into it via a connection lead, did some rapid bashing on the keyboard and brought up a mapping program. He peered at the screen, zooming in to maximum resolution and muttering to himself "Well, it makes sense that's where he is, why won't he answer his phone though?"

I leaned over his shoulder; a blue map pin was marked on the screen with the words 'Consulat des Etats Unis D'Amerique' next to it.

I pointed, "That's the US Consulate, right? So, he's still there? He's been gone nearly seven hours, even if it took him two hours to drive there why's he been silent all that time?"

Darren shook his head to tell me he had no more of a clue than I did. He tapped the table a couple of times, then picked up his phone, dialled a number and spoke into it. "Jamie, can you come over to the Admin room, I need your advice."

A couple of minutes later Jamie was there, looking worried as Darren and I filled him in on the situation. Straight away Jamie had his phone in his hand and initiated a facetime conversation. The now familiar face of Lou Carpenter appeared on the screen, Jamie gave her the update and said he'd wait. Lou left the conversation open and picked up her desk phone.

"Agent Hernandez? Hi, Lou Carpenter. Listen.." and so the situation was shared with our contact at the FBI. We only heard one end of the conversation, but Lou assured us it was a positive result, and she would call us as soon as she had news.

I was on edge, I wanted to be doing something, anything to make me think I was contributing. Jamie gave Darren the hire car keys. "Darren, why don't you pack an overnight bag just in case and go to Bordeaux so we've got boots on the ground. Nicola, maybe you should go too. Best case, you have to turn round halfway there, worst case you're on the ground and the two of you are probably the best equipped to deal with any problems. Nic, because you're Chris's wife and Darren, well...you know.." he finished awkwardly, Darren cut any speculation short by jumping up, unplugging the laptop and phone and telling me he'd meet back in ten.

Jamie turned to me and told me there was nothing to worry about and he was sure Chris was fine. I thought to myself if there was nothing to worry about, why was everyone telling me there was nothing to worry about? I thanked Jamie and told him I was sure he was right, but right now I needed tea, what with there being nothing to worry about and everything.

I stood in the kitchen with a mug of Yorkshire's finest. Through the window I could see Dominique with her head buried in Mona's pussy with Paul kneeling behind her. Jane was doubling up as Occupational Health and lighting assistant. I reflected how we'd adapted and changed with the circumstances but how when that was all stripped away, they were just people, caring helpful people. I wiped a tear away and tried to think positively, Chris was fine. I was certain. Almost seventy per cent certain.

Darren reappeared, he'd gone from basketball vest wearing laid back dude to button down collar short sleeved shirt, chinos and my god, brogues! Do people still wear brogues? He waved the car keys at me and led the way.

First stop was my villa, I still had my country & western outfit on and wanted to be a bit more corporate wife and a bit less hanging round a sex film set, although as we walked past Dominique and Luc shagging vigorously on the picnic blanket, I know which I felt most like.

It was strange, I'd happily fluffed Darren on the film set and had idly considered an afternoon's dalliance earlier but now I was concerned about Chris I went straight back to old Nicola, and shut myself in the bathroom to change, putting on a blue grey petal sleeved round necked jersey T shirt and a pair of cream cotton trousers, I rounded the ensemble off with a pair of slingback sandals.

I packed overnight things and a change of clothes for me and Chris and joined Darren in the living room. Feeling as if I was in a Film, which I was but this was a different one, we told Siri to take us to Bordeaux and followed the directions on the car's screen. Siri said two hours, we were there in one and a half, rolling into town at six forty-five in the evening. Darren took us on a drive by of the consulate. It was closed for the day, but Chris's phone was still in there, so I hoped he was too. We parked up outside a McDonalds and went in for a coffee and free WiFi.

While we were waiting Lou buzzed in a facetime call on Darren's phone, she was with Agent Hernandez who took the lead in telling us what was going on.

"So far as I can make out, we put a report on the joint agencies intel network after I spoke to your husband two days ago, it looks like the Department of Homeland Security field team in Marseille picked up on it, ransomware attacks have been known to be used as fundraisers for terrorist groups, and pressured the Consul in Bordeaux to authorise an interrogation. What they should have done was to cross check with me as the Agent in charge of the investigation and I could have told them that Mr Paxton was not a person of interest and shared the full intel.

I have emailed the Legal attaché's representative in Bordeaux, Agent Paul Muller of the FBI, to ask him to investigate the location of Mr Paxton, I hope to get an answer around 11pm my time.

Ms Carpenter is preparing a Habeas Corpus writ in the name of Chris Paxton, we will have it signed by a federal judge within the hour, if I email it to you can you print it?"

We looked at each other, my head was reeling, and I had no idea what was happening, Darren confirmed we could, he would book us into a hotel immediately.

Lou was pleased. "Good, now nothing can happen until tomorrow morning your time, we will work with the FBI here and in France to get Chris released but we need you inside the consulate first thing, ready to serve the papers on the Consul and whoever you are with, ideally a career civil servant. I suggest, and I'm sorry to do this to you Darren, you play on your record to get inside. Embassies love a war hero."

He looked dejected, "Yeah, I guessed you'd say that. OK, it's for a good cause and I'm sure he'd do as much if not more for me. Agent Hernandez, email it to my Dreamtime account, Lou has the details.

May I get your cell and I'll ping you a message when I know where we are staying."

Ping you a message. It's like Chris was here with us.

Everyone agreed and disconnected.

Darren was up and out of the door, he drove us back towards the Consulate building, and pulling up outside a large, discrete but impressive looking hotel. The sign said 'Hotel Vatel', and had four stars underneath its name. It had the advantage of being close to our destination but looked expensive. Sod it, I was getting five hundred dollars a day for hanging round on set and sucking some dicks, I could afford it. I was pleased to be able to contribute to the activities by speaking in French to the concierge, asking for two rooms for the night. She seemed to mean it when she informed me that regrettably they only had one room free, and surprise surprise it was a luxury room at four hundred Euro for the night, including breakfast and WiFi, but she would let me have it for three hundred and fifty Euro.

I was on the verge of walking out when Darren dropped an American Express card on the counter and said we'd have it.

We booked in and went up to our room, it was definitely the four-hundred-euro package, our suite was bigger than the first flat Chris and I shared, the bathroom had a big roll top bath and a walk-in shower, both with shiny copper fittings. The loo and bidet were in a separate room, and there was a second smaller shower room and toilet off the bedroom. If it hadn't been for the circumstances I'd have enjoyed staying there.

There was only one bed, although it was the size of Surrey, even so I was not planning on sharing it with anyone. Darren pre-empted the discussion and pointed at a full-length chaise longue by the window.

" That'll be mine, I just hope there's a spare blanket in here," as he searched the built-in wardrobe. "Aha, yes there is."

I had momentary pang of guilt. Only momentary.

Darren opened his Laptop on the Amnesty International page, there were half a dozen links to articles with titles like "US Rendition through France becoming more blatant" and "Detention without trial for ISIS suspects by US Extraordinary Rendition."

"What does that mean for us though?" I asked, "We had a letter from the FBI saying they weren't interested in prosecuting any of us."

He shook his head slowly, "Firstly, while I trust the FBI to keep their word, I don't trust other agencies. If another agency decided to lift Chris we can claim entrapment, which is pretty much illegal in US jurisdiction, and breach of contract on the basis that the FBI acted on behalf of the Federal Government and all other agencies as the lead agency in the investigation. United States v Carthee established that one in 1982, confirmed by United States v Lipscomb in 1996."

I was mesmerised. This couldn't be the same young man I'd been working with in an Erotic Drama production. He'd just turned into Tom Cruise in 'A few Good Men ' any moment now he was going to tell me I couldn't handle the truth.

Darren's phone buzzed, it was Mary, the associate lawyer from Lou's office confirming the writ had been sent, he checked his email and there it was. He copied it onto a memory stick, closed down his laptop and locked it in the safe along with his passport and my purse.

Taking me by the hand he led me back down to reception where the same concierge printed the document off for only one Euro per page. She even kept a straight face while she did it. We took the paperwork with us and walked into the restaurant where we grabbed a table and ordered a beef steak and a tuna steak. Darren outlined his idea to get us inside in the morning. He would be due to travel up to Le Havre with me, his sister, the next day to get a ferry to England and somewhere between Nice two weeks ago and here his passport had disappeared as had my bag with all my ID. Fortunately he had a sister who would appear on their database, he gave me a quick brief on Jessica May Holtz-Brandenburg. She's eight years older than him from 'our' Pa's first wife and married to a car dealer in Birmingham, Alabama. Pa passed away seven years ago, his Mom and my Mom are quite close, his Mom was maid of honour at my Mom's wedding last year.

Now seemed as good a time as any to quiz about the record Lou had mentioned. Darren seemed to agree and reluctantly he started his story.

He'd grown up in Alabama, in quite a poor area and at eighteen he'd joined the army as a way out of a job at WalMart being the height of his potential. After sailing through basic he'd been posted to the 4th Infatry Division, turning up with two other new guys, Phil and Jules six weeks before they deployed to Mosul as part of the handover to Iraqi forces and the wind down of the US presence, the nearest thing to excitement was one of his colleagues getting his foot run over by a truck and going home early.

He took well to military life, between his tours of Iraq and Afghanistan he got promotion to corporal and command of his own squad of eight men, Jules and Phil were in his squad, they all trusted each other literally with their lives and spent almost every waking minute in each other's company. They were closer than most married couples.

Then they were posted to Kandahar, in theory they were training the local police, in practice it was an exercise in survival. The US army were subordinate to nebulous US government agency training bodies who seemed to have no idea about gaining trust or supporting the locals, choosing instead to use brutal methods and to ignore local intelligence. When Darren reported concerns about a potential ambush site being established, he was told in no uncertain terms to forget about it and was tasked with going back in on foot the next day. Jules was killed in the inevitable explosion, dying in Darren's arms.

The management team were re-deployed and the surviving squad members were given medals and called heroes, but nothing changed. Darren and Phil blamed the US government hierarchy for their friend's death. Lack of leadership and command had led to weak people being put in positions of authority, which got their friend killed. They joked they'd get their revenge by using the GI bill to go to college then drop out and get jobs that wasted their degrees. Porn Star or parking lot attendant were the front runners.