Chapter 19: Season Six: Vivienne Redux

We arrived at the Quai d’Orsay and made our way to General Beauregard’s office. The room was more opulently furnished than on our previous visit with more expensive paintings on the wall, a deeper pile carpet on the floor, and a grander roll top mahogany desk, with a larger leather upholstered swivel chair sat behind it

“The information regarding cameras in hotels has really put the cat among the pigeons,” the general said on greeting us. “Madame Dubonnet is at a meeting with DGSI and she reports the main topic of conversation...”

“Why are we meeting with the Internal Security Directorate, General? We are purely a Légion étrangère asset,” the Chevalier said.

“Oh, the new arrangements for the intelligence community have been rolled out. We are now brigaded with two other intelligence analysis units. However, all the talk at the meeting was about what we have discovered about the Hotel Lancelot...”

“What Rafael discovered about the Hotel Lancelot I think you meant to say, General,” the Chevalier interrupted.

“Yes, of course. Well done, Planchette.” He lifted the telephone but stopped before dialling. “Merde! I forgot, Vivi – Madame Dubonnet is still at the meeting.” He replaced the handset and turned to me. “Do the honours, Planchette, and get me my coffee.”

“My pleasure, General,” I said; I needed to pee.

Back at the office I watched with smug satisfaction as the general drained his mug with relish.

“There’s no doubt about it, Planchette, your coffee has an extra special flavour. Even Madame Dubonnet’s, which tastes better than most, cannot match yours.”

“It is all to do with the temperature of the water, general. No one knows how we Planchettes judge the optimum moment to pour water onto the ground beans; it must be something in my family’s DNA to be able to judge the temperature to such a nicety. We do not use a thermometer. It is pure instinct, basic instinct.”

The general raised his empty mug. “Well here’s to that, Planchette, and more power to your elbow, or whatever gives your brew that something special.”

The Chevalier brought the discussion back on track. “Have you ever come across Gaston Roux, General?”

Beauregard shook his head. “Not that I can recall. You say he is the deputy Mayor of Dinard? I have contacts on the Regional Council of Brittany and could ask them about...”

“Definitely not!” the Chevalier butted in. “We don’t want to alert him, but we do need to know where his insurance is kept. We will have to use wire taps, interceptions of his emails, and...”

“All of which need court orders,” the general said.

“Not necessarily. The surveillance could come under Legion business...”

“In that case I didn’t hear anything of what you just said, and cannot listen to any more of your ... err ... musings.”

From that exchange I understood the illegal surveillance would go ahead but the general would have plausible deniability as his defence if the illegality became known.

The office door swung open and Vivienne Dubonnet strode into the room. We all turned and stared at her; she was well worth a long stare. Vivienne’s elegantly cut light grey business suit emphasised her well-formed body. The mid-thigh length jacket clung to her hips and her just above the knee pencil skirt had slits up both sides allowing her to walk, and to display her exquisitely shaped legs. Her hair, piled artfully up in a French pleat, showed off her slender neck and large, gold hooped, earrings made her delicate ears appear even smaller. I heard the whisper of her silk stockings, black silk stockings, as she walked, swayed, over to the desk.

“Maurice, and M’sieu Planchette, how lovely to see you,” she said, her smile embracing us both.

The Chevalier rose from his chair and kissed her hand. “You look enchanting, Vivienne.”

I also got from my chair. “I agree wholeheartedly with the Chevalier, Madam Dubonnet. You are indeed enchanting.” Then the devil took me over and I continued, “is your husband with you?”

Her look poniarded me but she kept her temper and her poise. “No, of course not. He is with his unit on manoeuvers in Corsica.”

“Knowing Roland as I do I expect he is doing some extramarital manoeuvring even as we speak.” The general’s sally caused Vivienne to shoot him a glare that would have melted the Arctic ice cap, or at least what remains of the Arctic ice cap. He was unaware of the bolt of scorn hurled his way and went on blithely and blindly. “I was telling young Planchette here that his coffee is even better than yours, and he says the secret is in the temperature of the water.”

By now Vivienne had sat down in one of the comfortable arm chairs. She languidly crossed her legs, allowing the hem of her skirt to ride up just far enough to titillate the eyes of all three males.

“I hope M’sieu Planchette will pass on the secret to me later,” she said, and gave me the most lascivious of looks, and a wink that nearly dislodged her false eyelash.

“You told me you were divorced,” I said. “But I find out not only are you still married but your husband is in Special Forces. He will tear me limb from limb if he ever finds out we have been...”

Vivienne stopped my whingeing by filling my mouth with her tongue. I sucked on it like a pacifier and she withdrew it when I had calmed down.