French Connections Ch. 02

"Monsieur Monroe, we have an urgent message for you from Monsieur Cagney. He will be arriving in Paris tomorrow and needs you to call him at his hotel in Germany before 3pm if possible. I have written the number down for you." The pretty receptionist beamed at him, as she handed him the piece of paper.

"If you have any difficulties using the telephone in your room to dial an international number," she looked him over, unashamedly checking him out "I am more than happy to," she paused, fluttering her eyelashes "to 'assist' you." She smiled suggestively at him. There was no mistaking her intentions.

For his part, the handsome American thanked her for the message and assured her he could manage. However, he would let her know if any 'assistance' was required. He gave her a tight smile and headed up to his room. He was flattered by the offer, what guy in his right mind wouldn't be... but he just wasn't in the mood.

He telephoned Bill Cagney, his boss, as soon as he got into his room.

"Hey Bill, what's up? What's this I hear about you coming to Paris?" he asked, almost not sure he really wanted to know the answer. If Bill was coming to Paris, it meant only one thing: the vacation was over and there was work to be done.

"Tommy my boy," he hated being called 'Tommy', only his Mom ever called him that and even she hadn't done it since he was about twelve. But Bill was just one of 'those' guys -- i.e. a pain in the ass!

"We've got work to do! The deadline for the designs for the new CLIMATE-SAT series is in two weeks time and I've just spent the last 48hrs here in Bremen going over some rather ingenious ideas with Frank Hertz from the IRSM," Tom knew the research institute Bill was referring to -- in English it was known as the Meteorological Satellite Research Institute. It was a fairly new research institute based in Paris, formed by a cluster of several universities and supported by the French space agency, the European space agency and about half a dozen other private space companies. Although it was still a fairly new institute, less than ten years in operation, there had been some very impressive discoveries come out of there. Most of the important research had been led by Dr. Frank Hertz himself.

"Let me see if I understand this, you want us to put together a proposal for an entire new fleet of satellites, with only two weeks to work on it? Bill something like that takes a couple of months at least, you know that better than anybody" Tom thought Bill Cagney had finally succeeded in crawling too far up his own ass and was suffering from some sort of methane induced insanity. "It can't be done Bill."

"Tommy, Tommy, Tommy... C'mon kid. Since when have you been such a pessimist?!" Tom choked when he heard Bill call him 'kid' -- he was a 34yr old experienced and accomplished engineer, he deserved a bit better than 'kid'.

"Listen," Bill continued, "Just be at the IRSM at 9am on Monday morning to meet with Frank's people. There's a couple of people there you should talk to, one PhD in particular is doing some very relevant research on this and it could be good for you to meet her. C'mon Tommy, what's the worst that can happen, huh? You spend a few extra days in Paris, eat a few more croissants, drink some more wine... and catch a flight home next weekend if it doesn't look like we're gonna get anywhere with this. Just give it a chance, hear these people out. What d'ya say?" Bill could be very persuasive when he wanted to be...

"Fine, I'll be there 9am Monday. I'll e-mail our office this afternoon and have them change my flight." Tom replied "Hey what's this new research they're doing anyway?"

"It's quite advanced, very technical." Code for Bill didn't understand it himself. "I'll forward you the paper Frank and his student submitted for the conference. I think you'll find it pretty interesting stuff."

"Alright, I'll look for your e-mail. See you Monday." Tom said, hanging up the phone. The idea of spending of few more days, maybe even weeks in Paris, didn't really appeal to him. He had already had as much of the 'Parisian' lifestyle as he could handle. He knew he was just in a bad mood, he would get over it... he wouldn't have much choice!

He fired up his computer, and found Bill's e-mail. 'That was quick' he thought. He downloaded the attached file, 'HertzandYoung.pdf', to his computer. This was not exactly how he planned on spending his Saturday in Paris. When he woke up this morning, he was sure that by now he would be naked in the Irish girl's bed and he was convinced that that's where he would be spending most of his vacation -- naked with the Irish girl. The hotel internet was quite slow and the pdf, which was a rather large file, was taking a minute or two to download. As he thought of the Irish girl, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the piece of notepaper she had handed him with her details on it.

"Jane Young," he said aloud, reading it for the millionth time since she had given it to him. "I guess it just wasn't meant to be." He shook his head, crumpled the paper up and threw it in the trash can underneath the desk.

The computer beeped, the file was finished downloading. He opened it, read the long and boring technical title... and then stopped. Something very interesting was written on the computer screen. Something that made his heart quicken and his breath catch in the back of his throat. He quickly grabbed the paper out of the trash can. For a second, he thought he was losing his mind. He glanced from the computer screen to the paper, and back again... confirming and reconfirming what he had instantly realised.

The paper was written by the two authors he was to meet on Monday morning. The first was Dr. Frank Hertz, who along with Bill Cagney, arranged the meeting. The second was the PhD student working on the project, who probably still had no idea any such meeting was being arranged... and who was also not likely to recognise 'Tommy Monroe' as anyone she knew. Tom wasn't even sure if he had told her his last name at all. Frank's research assistant was none other than Ms. Jane Young, from her brief bio on the screen, she was an Irish student working temporarily at the IRSM.

Whether he liked it or not, the Irish girl he stood up today -- understandably after seeing her reunited with (who he thought was) her French boyfriend -- he would have to face again, at 9am on Monday morning. He might have thought he had seen the last of her, but fate... fate was not finished with them just yet...

*****

The Irish girl spent the rest of the day waiting by her phone, looking out of her window onto the street... wondering why the handsome American guy didn't call or visit. Eventually, another night and day passed by with no contact from the American and she's forced to assume the worst: that she was just a passing one-night 'fling' to him, just another notch on his belt. After all, how can she blame him? Did she really expect him to put up with so much drama on a first date? 'Date'? Ha! As if! They had only known each other a few hours when they 'coupled' in the elevator. What did he think of her? Did he think she did that kind of thing all the time? So many questions... so many unknowns.

She tried to brush it off, and accept it and cherish it for what it was. But sometimes hope is the worst thing a person can have... because there was still a lingering stupid hope that somehow her phone would ring, or he would just show up at her door with a bizarre but believable story of how he lost her number and couldn't find her building again and had spent the entire day searching for her and cursing himself for losing that little slip of paper she had given him. Stranger things could happen... couldn't they?

A tear ran down her cheek as the realisation that she would probably never see him again settled in. But tomorrow was another day, a work day for that matter and she would have to pull herself together to get through it... alone. Again.

Or so she thought...

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To be concluded...

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