Chapter 7 - Taken from France

On the streets of Paris, men and women alike stole glances at Charlotte Spencer, the blonde blue-eyed eighteen-year-old English rose. Fresh from winning the quarter final of a junior tennis tournament, she was brimming with confidence and excitement. Alone in Paris, she sought to savour every moment of her visit, hoping to experience the romance the City of Love promised. The bustling streets and charming cafes of Montparnasse near her hotel called to her, inviting her to explore their hidden gems.

She took as many selfies as she could, hoping she would be making her old school-friends jealous of her glamorous lifestyle. She bit her lip and smiled as she saw the likes her photos of the Eiffel Tower had got her. She laughed at how silly her mother had been to warn her about having an open profile! The poor woman had been worried sick about Charlotte’s solo trip

Charlotte did not have much experience with boys having gone to an all-girls school but had secretly hoped that her Paris trip might open up the possibility of romance. There was that Spanish tennis player, Fernando, her tinder match, Gustav, or Simon, the son of one of her father’s business associates. Her father had meant to accompany her but had been called away on business. She felt sorry her father worked so hard. That last court case against the Azmarian government had left him a nervous wreck, she wished he would slow down.

But it opened up so many possibilities for romance, it was almost a shame her tournament was going so well! Dressed in her sports skirt and jacket, she admired herself in a shop window, sure that she would meet a handsome young man to complete her Paris trip.

Clemence, the distinguished French lawyer in his late forties, recognized her as well. He paused and exclaimed, “Why, is it the young lady from the tennis in London? Valerie’s daughter? Ah, what an enchanting coincidence!”

Charlotte was thrilled at the serendipity and his elegant manner. “Yes! It’s Charlotte! Salut, Monsieur ... Carnot?”

“Ha, yes! What brings you to Paris, Charlotte? I am just on my way home.”

“Ah, you live here. It’s a beautiful area!” Charlotte swelled with pleasure as she soaked in the surroundings and smiled at the older man. “I am here for the junior tennis tournament. I just won the quarter-final!”

The older man admired the beautiful young rose and her sense of adventure and wonder at her new surroundings.

“Oh, congratulations! Are you here with your family or friends? My wife and I could invite you to our home for some French cooking!”

“Haha, oh thank you, Monsieur Carnot, but I am here by myself.”

“Ah, that is OK then. I understand. A young lady like you should have adventures here. I hope you enjoy yourself as well as the sport, haha.”

“Merci, Monsieur.” Charlotte smiled, understanding the man would probably not want to invite a single young girl to his home to meet his wife. She blushed at the thought that the glamorous Russian woman she had met at the lunch in London might be jealous of her.

“Oh, tell you what, Charlotte, I recall you mentioned an interest in law. Why don’t you come by my office sometime for lunch? You can see what an international firm looks like!”

Charlotte was thrilled. This was something she could show on Instagram, and it might help her. International Paris law firm? “Of course,” she blushed again.

“Please, take my card, and we can arrange something this week!” he smiled. “I must be off now; my wife has prepared some escargots du vin. She is expecting our first child!”

“Oh, congratulations!” beamed Charlotte. “I will get in touch!”

Charlotte walked away with a spring in her step. Truly, Paris was a city where anything could happen! She walked with a little more flair, drawing more admiring glances, talking up the steps to her hotel not minding that her underwear was clearly visible to the gawking Japanese businessmen below.

Plenty of vain gay men answered the advertisement for extras for a beach party movie in Marseille. Karim Al-Faraj had spent more time than he cared for responding to excited questions when all he was worried about was attracting a prospective director, Camille LeClerc, to a meeting.

Camille was thrilled and enjoyed chatting with the gay guys online. She was looking forward to partying with them after the shoot!

A few days later, Charlotte Spencer found herself walking along a less salubrious part of Paris. Despite her outward appearance, she was feeling slightly down; she had lost the semi-final of the tennis tournament. The disappointment weighed heavily on her, but Miguel, her handsome admirer who had made it through to the mens final, had invited her to dinner tonight. The thought of spending the evening with him thrilled her. Her black dress was for him, and she hoped it was not too revealing for her current appointment, at Clemence Carnot’s law firm “Duval et Fils.” She was looking forward to learning about the workings of an international law firm.

Clement had been very busy and the communication was sparing but she was excited and felt so smart and professional, imagining herself as the consummate young female lawyer in Paris. But the reality was very different. She was in a run-down neighbourhood and was getting a lot of lecherous stares.

The sign above the door said “Duval & Fils” but it was a small accounting company above a coffee shop, flanked by a mobile phone shop. It was nothing like the Duval & Fils from Clemence’s business card, the website, or Google.

Confused, she checked the address Clemence had sent her on WhatsApp, and it matched the location she was at. Just then, her phone rang. It was Clemence.

Charlotte, where are you?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“Clemence, I am outside Duval & Fils, but I think I am at the wrong one! This one is in La Goutte d’Or,” Charlotte replied.

“Oh Charlotte! I am so sorry! I must have sent you the wrong address! I apologize ... you must come to the real Duval & Fils in central Paris! This is my fault, I am so sorry. I’ve had a difficult case today ... but wait, let me get you an Uber immediately. That area is not safe for a young lady like you ... just give me a minute...”

Charlotte was relieved and giggled to herself at the mix-up. She waited for the Uber, feeling a sense of adventure even in the mishap. She thought of her father and his absent-mindedness, recognising it in Carnot. A car came around the corner, its number plate matching Clemence’s message confirming the booking, and she waved.

The driver was a smiling black man, introducing himself as Kwame. Charlotte tried to adjust her dress, and crossed her legs, mindful of showing her knickers to the driver. She looked out the window at the working class streets relieved that she was being whisked to the real Duval & Fils. She thought of mentioning this to her mum in a message, but decided against it, she did not want to make her mother worry. She checked herself in the mirror, her flawless face and her blonde hair was still in perfect condition. She smiled as the central Paris skyline beckoned.

Charlotte felt a little put out that Clemence had chosen a cheaper Uber option, but agreed with a nod. Used to the best, she had high standards and hoped Clemence would make up for his mistake with a nice lunch and an impressive showing at his firm.

She was a little weary of her dress now and tried pulling it down. Her driver kept stealing glances, though she was a little flattered she was looking forward to mixing with more upper class people again.

The car slowed down, and a man approached and opened the door at a quiet side road. Charlotte noticed a suited man with grey hair, a hat and sunglasses get in. She gave him a quick discreet look and smile then turned back into her own world. As the taxi took off again, she went back to her phone. She was engrossed in her notifications and didn’t notice her fellow passenger pulling out a taser.

Suddenly, the man leaned closer, and before Charlotte could react, he pressed the taser against her side, delivering a sharp, electric shock. Pain surged through her body, and everything went dark as she slipped into unconsciousness.

All good, Mr. Pembroke?” Kwame asked his boss. Pembroke smiled and took off his glasses, revealing his true self under the wig. “Yes, Kwame. We have our first little fish. Keep driving, and I will have her tied up and hidden.”

Kwame laughed as he continued to drive through the quieter parts of Paris. Pembroke, now showing his true face, worked quickly and efficiently. He tied Charlotte’s wrists and ankles more securely and placed a cloth over her mouth to muffle any sounds.

The following morning, at a secluded beach, Camille LeClerc was goofing around with four gay guys. She was excited to be part of a project with these exuberant gay French Algerians. They were all waiting for Karim Al-Faraj.

Karim Al-Faraj arrived breathless, a sense of urgency in his movements. “Sorry I’m late! I had to make some last-minute arrangements,” he explained, catching his breath. He was exhausted having travelled all night, and his he had cuts on his hands from being scratched and bitten by a desperate English teenager.

“No worries, Karim! We were just having some fun,” Camille replied with a smile.

The two greeted each other and made some small talk. “Perfect,” Karim said, scanning the beach. “Hey, I have a fun idea. Camille, why don’t you go out into the water a bit and take some photos of the guys from there? It’ll give us some great shots for the project.” Karim handed her a waterproof camera. “Trust me, the perspective will be amazing from the water.”

Camille was a little alarmed at the stormy waters and the rocks, but accepted. Karim stared at her in her pink gym shorts and bra. Her bare feet carefully traced the rocks as she waded out, like a gymnast would.

He was confident that no one could see Camille, only him and the four extras. As she positioned herself in the water, Karim subtly activated a remote voice machine hidden in a nearby cave. A faint but distinct sound of someone calling for help echoed from the cave.

The four extras turned towards the cave, puzzled and concerned. “Did you hear that?” one of them asked. “It sounds like someone needs help.”

“Let’s go check it out,” another suggested. They all started making their way towards the cave, their curiosity piqued.

Karim followed them, he looked back at Camille, who was watching from far out on the edge of the rocks, up to her thighs in water, puzzled. What were they looking for?