Chapter 1

When I looked back, I had to admit ‘they’ never directly lied to me. It’s just that I apparently didn’t ask all the right questions.

I was naive; after all. I grew up knowing not to question anything, just do what I was told needed to be done. That aspect of our relationship took on different meanings as time went on. You have to remember one thing, you never leave ‘The Business’ ... alive that is, no matter what.

Grade k - 8 were at a ‘Company school’. Grades 9 - 12 were at a ‘Company school’. College was to be at a ‘Company school’ too, if I hadn’t put my foot down. I was impatient and not a good student. After almost a year and half, at 19 I got a job and went to work instead of finishing school.

Where you say? You guessed it the first time, at a firm located in Washington D.C. It seemed the perfect place to plant my feet, they would never lie to me, would they?

For the next five years, I learned they would and what those ‘damn’ questions were I should have asked. There were some bennies though. I traveled the world and learned 5 or 6 languages, but almost got myself a ‘BC-19’ by a couple stupid mistakes. I did learn to make a few friends along the way, and they made things right for me, but at a ‘price’; you see, nothing in this life is for ‘free’.

When they said, ‘blend in with the locals’, it’s not that easy to do in places like, China, Korea, Yemen, Brazil, Chile, Argentina, Mexico and some out of the way places like Nepal and Thailand. Yep, not easily done, blending in, that is, for a ‘round eye’ from the Midwest.

I did have a nice meal once in a bit, like six times in those five years of ‘blending’ at some Embassy function. At other times when in-country blending in, it was rice, bugs, like fried locusts, dog meat ... or worse: rats, salted fish, slugs, garlic sprouts, monkey, more rice and parts of more things you just do not want to know about. Was it any wonder, after five years of that; the first week back in the USA I ate real steak three times a day. Another thing I did, was go back to school! I thought getting a new job would be easier with a B.S. at least.

My name, one of them anyway, is Dillon Sweets, I am twenty-five, and almost a free man, except for that little thing my ‘Masters’ had about ever leaving. Man, how things had changed, especially the gals. They seemed to grow up and out a lot more than I remembered from before. Another thing, for my five years in ‘Hell’ they paid me $150,000 a year and I got that tax-free and did not have to spend a penny of it.

If you were a ‘smart man’ and knew where to look, gold was still $32 an ounce in a few countries which could add a few Shekels to the coffers. Some generals got greedy and started to ship tons of it back home on MAC flights. Not the best way to ‘blend’ in for them; I tell you. Oh well!

My penthouse apartment; the S-Class MB 500 and nicer clothes than many wore to school, to say the least, did not blend in at College. They had just the opposite effect. I was a might tired of that ‘act like a local’ crap’ they had told me. One thing more, the apartment, car and a few other things came with my part-time, ‘as needed’ assignment. I would act as an ‘Ambassador-at Large’ meaning anywhere, anytime the powers-to-be wanted, my priorities got re-arranged to meet those wishes.

It was not so bad, I had told you my friends got me out of trouble a few times, so they figured ‘Diplomatic Immunity’ might be a nice thing for me to have. Remember, no good deed goes un-punished and nothing in life is free. I would consider it a sort of ‘Trade’.

I should have known something was going to be different that first day back in school when one girl said ‘Hi’ and ‘are you free tonight’. Yep, things were a might different these days. So much had changed yet basically things remained the same.

That first day on campus I was still amazed at how carefree and bold women and girls had become. Like many men, when I saw a young lady sitting on the grass and crying, I got in my protective mode. I sat down near her and just nodded. What I never expected was her response my gesture got me.

Author’s note: I will try to include both the French, Russian, German and English dialogue for more clarity in the first chapter only. This to make the point how mis-understandings might happen. It gets worse when things are in print.

“Another ‘homme’ wishing to be my friend, ehh?” This said in mixed French and English.

“Hé, quand je vois une belle fille pleurer, un homme doit juste arrêter.” “Hey, when I see a beautiful girl crying, a man just has to stop.”

She just was staring at me, with her mouth open for what seemed like hours but was only a minute or two.

“Tu parle français?” Finally she asked, “You speak French?”

“Oui, j’essaie de faire de mon mieux.” “Yes, some, I try my best.”

“Oh, vous ne savez pas combien il m’a été difficile pour moi de m’expliquer.” “Oh, you do not know how difficult it has been for me to explain myself.”

“Pas de promesses, mais je vais écouter et essayer de vous aider.” “No promises, but I’ll listen and try to help you.”

And by the simple act of trying to help her, my fate became somewhat intertwined with hers and sealed from that moment on.

Her Papa had sent her to college here to better prepare herself for being an educated French wife for someone. What Papa did not understand, was that the life she wanted was to be of her choice, not his wishes dictated to her like some servant. Everyone back home expected her to marry the one whom her Papa had arranged. Everyone, that is, but her.

Genevieve Bijoux, that was her name, thought she wanted to be a model. Did I happen to mention when they were giving out looks and bodies, she must have stood in-line several times. That, of course has nothing at all to do with me wanting to help her. From the way she looked, dressed and carried herself, I did not see her as a mere model. Granted, top models made a lot of money, but this girl had more than looks going for her.

She had gotten in a bit over her head in the pursuit of that quest, though. The next day she was to leave for New York to meet people from several places for job interviews over Thursday and Friday of that week. That brought the fear of God in the seventeen year-old. One reason she got such quick response was that she had sent a small portfolio which was well-done. The second reason, was who her Papa was gave signing her important kudos for any modeling agency. Those were the same reasons she was now fearful her Papa would find out, and send her back to France. She was not yet eighteen and in the eyes of the law no contract could be executed with a minor. She explained she would be an ‘(Adulte)’ ‘Adult’ soon and would no longer need to obey her Papa. Little did I comprehend what she meant by that. She also emphatically stated that, except for certain things, Papa was head of the family, and family was very important to her.

Add to that the small issue of understanding two languages, spoken and written besides. She could not truly understand everything they said and even less of what was written in any proposed documents. She feared they would not grasp her concerns and understand what she meant by what she was saying.

We would call it a ‘Catch 22’.

We talked that day for hours. The opportunity to have someone listen while she spoke in French made all the difference in her demeanor.

All of a sudden she said. “ Je annule les réunions, je ne pourrai jamais dire ces choses en anglais” “I am cancelling the meetings, I will never be able to say these things in English.”

“Hé, c’est pour ça que tu m’as un ami. J’ai besoin d’augmenter mon Karma et de maintenir mon appartenance à un membre du «Knight in Shining Armor Club» en aidant une «Damsel in Distress».” “Hey, it’s why you have me for a friend. I need to increase my Karma and keep my membership current in the ‘Knight in Shining Armour Club’ by helping a Damsel in Distress.”

My second good deed now took place. I could not help myself. I beg any man after looking into her eyes, once you got looking up higher than her chest, to not agree to anything she might need.

We agreed to meet at the Student Union. I would drive back to her dorm, pack her outfits into my car and off we would go to New York City. It was intended to be a nice, four or five-hour drive from Arlington, depending on traffic. Right, and there is an Easter Bunny as well as a Santa Klaus/Claus. Remember that saying about ‘good deeds’?