The phalanx code, p.11
The Phalanx Code, page 11
Charles pulled out his cell phone and texted Philippe, who appeared a minute later.
He was short, maybe five foot five, pushing sixty years old, and wore a heavy brown corduroy blazer with a tan turtleneck sweater. His narrow eyes were partly hidden by the worn newsboy cap he had pulled low over his forehead. The earflaps covered his ears, and I thought about including the hat in my next disguise.
“Oui, monsieur?”
Charles rattled off some French that basically told him to ditch the bike somewhere on the other side of town and that he would meet him in the Bordeaux town center. I handed him the keys, retrieved my backpack from the front handlebars of the Voxan racing bike, removed the pistol from the seat well, and stepped back.
He muttered something in French; perhaps, “What is this?” referencing the electric motorcycle. I reached over and pushed the button that started the engine. He nodded and gunned it, the power surprising him and almost causing him to pop a wheelie and lose control. Nonetheless, he righted the ship and sped down the long driveway back to civilization.
I turned to Evelyn and her brother, who were watching Philippe navigate his way through the vineyard.
“The GPS track is going to show the bike coming here. If they don’t already know, they’ll know soon enough.”
“I’m not worried about Blanc,” Charles said.
“Blanc kidnapped your sister,” I replied.
Evelyn and Charles exchanged a glance before Evelyn placed a hand on her brother’s arm.
“Garrett, it’s true that Blanc held me in that dreadful dungeon. Thank you for retrieving me and setting me free. I’m forever grateful, as is Charles and the rest of my family, I’m sure. We will use one of our family cars to continue to move so that none of my family is in danger.”
“Yes, merci, Général,” Charles added.
“Your nobility is appreciated. Now, I think we have time for a quick meal and a shower before we head out. Game?”
I looked at Charles and then at Evelyn.
“I woke up to four armed assassins trying to kill me. They are dead. I endangered my children’s friend in Hossegor. I avoided being killed and captured so that I could find you, as Mitch Drewson asked me to.”
When I mentioned Drewson’s name, Evelyn smirked and said, “Busy morning. I was wondering where you got the fancy motorcycle.”
“My point, Evelyn, is that the Phalanx assassin squads could be flying in here any moment now. We have endangered your family and should leave.”
“Mon Dieu!” Charles said. “You are like husband and wife!” He laughed. I can now say I’ve seen my sister in love!”
Perhaps we were arguing like a married couple, but I didn’t see what he was talking about.
“You’re blushing, General,” Evelyn said. “By the way, how did you find me?”
“Not blushing. The wind is stiff, and the air is crisp,” I said, defensively, and avoiding answering her question in front of her brother.
The truth was that I might have been embarrassed about my emotions toward the enchanting Evelyn Champollion. What was not to love? Standing here, she stared at me with ice-blue eyes, a cocksure grin, and a lithe frame that belied her mid-forties age. More to the point, my dear deceased wife, Melissa, had been gone for over two years now, and I hadn’t even thought of another woman for fear of feeling unfaithful to her memory. But she had told me from her hospital room prior to my departure on the mission to kill Baghdadi, “Find love, Garrett. For yourself. For the children. And most importantly, for me. There will never be another love for you like we have, but you’re the best man I know, and you deserve to feel everything you’ve given me.”
I had replied, “Melissa, stop talking like this. You’re going to make it. The doctor said six more months and the experimental treatments might even lead to a breakthrough cure.”
She had shaken her head softly.
“You and I both know that’s a long shot. If I go before you get back, promise me that you’ll find love. You know how I say that ‘good wins?’ Your finding love after I’m gone is ‘good’ winning.”
When I had first met Evelyn in the Sahara Desert at the Eye of Africa archeological dig site, she had acted pretty much the same as she was acting now. Quick, smart, funny.
“Okay, the wind and the air it is,” she said, smiling.
“It is a tad chilly. Let’s go inside, shall we? I’ll get you settled and then go pick up Philippe,” Charles said.
We entered the mansion, which had two curling staircases on either side leading up to the second floor. Ornately decorated mirrors and picture frames donned the walls on either side, hanging against wallpaper lined with bold burgundy and white stripes, an homage to the grape business, I guessed.
“That’s him,” Evelyn said as we stepped onto the first step of the right-side staircase and came face-to-face with an oil painting of Jean-François Champollion, which looked like every other portrait done during the Neoclassical years in the wake of the French Revolution and Napoleon’s wars. Champollion was universally known for breaking the Rosetta Stone code, which had led obviously to fame and wealth. He had a soft face with pink cheeks, wispy hair, and mutton chop sideburns. His white shirt had the collar popped up with a white bow tie beneath a black coat, in which Champollion had his left-hand stuffed à la Napoleon’s traditional pose.
“Interesting,” I said. “He broke codes, and you break codes. Perhaps a genetic gift?”
“Mon général, whatever do you speak of?” she said, smiling.
“I’m just surprised you’re in such good spirits after your ordeal,” I said.
She paused our climb to the landing and looked at me with her hand on the mahogany rail. She placed the other hand on my left biceps.
“You should know by now, General, that I handle stress differently than most people do. I go to a place that does not consume but gives me energy and comfort,” she said.
I had a hard time holding her gaze. Her intellect coupled with her unbridled beauty and boundless wit captivated me. I would never forget Melissa, ever. On the contrary, I could feel Melissa’s presence encouraging me to at least acknowledge the attraction.
“Your vulnerability is attractive,” I said.
My smoothness must have been lost on her because she turned and continued to ascend until we reached the top of the steps. I followed her into what turned out to be a giant bedroom. Her brother called from the bottom of the stairs, “Heading to pick up Philippe!”
“Be safe!” she shouted through the door, which she then closed.
Evelyn turned to me and placed her hands on my cheeks, staring at me with a soulful look that stirred something in me that had been dormant for so long.
“Thank you for saving me, General,” she said. She stretched up on her toes and leaned into me, kissing me on the lips, the first woman, other than Melissa, to do so in thirty-five years. Guilt, fear, and excitement coursed through me. Which emotion should I listen to, if any at all? I decided to apply her approach to challenges.
Go to a place that gives me energy and comfort …
And so, I did. I received her kiss, awkwardly at first. My inexperience showed as I fumbled with what to do with her petite frame. I didn’t want to break her but remembered she was strong and fit. I clasped her head with my hands, which almost completely encompassed her face.
She pushed me toward the bed and removed her top. Between her breasts dangled Coop’s second dog tag, presumably with Drewson’s locator smart dust on it.
“I’ve kept you close to my heart for a long time,” she said.
From there, it was all a blur. For all practical purposes, in those thirty minutes, I slayed too many demons to count. Or perhaps she slayed them, noticing my reticence. Regardless, as we lay in the aftermath on the crumpled sheets, I noticed a scar on her abdomen and asked her about its origin.
She leaned into me and kissed my forehead, Coop’s dog tag dangling from her neck atop the one around mine.
“I love your protective instincts, General. I think we should get cleaned up and hit the road. I need to show you something,” she said. As she was rolling out of bed, I caught the flash of a small black tattoo of an elongated baseball diamond inside of her wrist. A dime would cover it, but it reminded me of the larger tattoo Coop had in practically the same location.
“You’re staring,” she said.
“That,” I said, pointing at her wrist.
“In due time, mon général. A girl can’t reveal all her secrets at once,” she replied.
I followed her into the shower but was distracted by thoughts of Coop. Was it a coincidence? What could it mean that both Coop and Evelyn had the same tattoo?
We showered and dressed in new clothes. I had a pair of tactical pants in my backpack. She gave me one of her brother’s flannel shirts, which fit well enough over my prepacked polypro shirt. I switched into my boots and stowed the running shoes. We shared a toothbrush and went downstairs where two warm plates of venison and vegetables were covered in tinfoil with a bottle of Champollion wine on the table. The labs waited expectantly until I slid them both big chunks of deer meat, which produced sufficient tail wagging and made me miss my own lab, Scout.
We wolfed down the food and drank some of the wine. Evelyn penned a thank-you note to her brother and grabbed a set of keys from a dish in the large mudroom that transitioned to an enormous garage filled with ten cars. The dogs followed us until she kissed both on the nose and closed the door. We stepped into a brightly lit showroom, where on the floor were a light blue 1963 split-window Corvette Stingray, an assortment of vintage and late model Porsches, and a black Lamborghini Urus SUV.
Evelyn thumbed the key fob and the SUV lights blinked. She punched another button that elevated one of six garage doors that opened away from the front of the home. She tossed a bag in with some clothes and another with provisions in the back hatch. She threw me the keys, so I slid into the driver’s seat. My pickup truck didn’t have nearly the cockpit that this machine presented in a light blue neon-lit array worthy of a jet console.
“Lift this, push this, pull this, and then it’s all the same once you get your mirrors right,” Evelyn said.
I did as instructed and pulled forward through the open door. The winter sun was low over the river, shining an optimistic ray of muted orange across the leafless vines. The automobile was solid and handled smoothly. Evelyn punched some information into the dash and a woman’s soft voice began speaking French, giving us directions.
“Two French women telling me what to do?” I asked.
“We do have a history of wanting to be in charge,” she replied. “But after what just happened upstairs, I’m not taking anything away from you, General. Command away.”
“That was … nice,” I said.
“I know what you’re trying to say, and I agree.”
The truth was, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. This was all very fresh. Should I open my heart to another person, allow her into my life, only to eventually lose her, like Melissa, Sly, and Sally? Loss was a part of life, but to lose my wife, my command sergeant major, and my command pilot in less than two years made me gun-shy about letting others into my emotional orbit.
I looked at the map and saw she had programmed a small airfield maybe ten minutes away. I navigated the roads and pulled up to a long building with a sign that read BORDEAUX AÉROCLUB.
“Pull into this hangar here on the left,” she said. Evelyn punched a button on the fob and the hangar door slid open. Two Hawker 850XP jets and a King Air were parked inside. There was a man standing at the steps of one of the Hawkers, which was painted burgundy and white, much like the wallpaper in the family house where Charles resided, and I guessed that there might be some family crest with those colors, given the Champollion lineage. The man was dressed in a blue mechanic’s jumpsuit and looked as if he’d just done an oil change. I parked the SUV along the wall of the hangar and popped the hatch, retrieving my backpack and Evelyn’s two bags.
“She’s ready for you, ma’am,” the man said.
“Thank you, Claude,” Evelyn said.
We climbed up the steps, Evelyn making an unexpected turn toward the cockpit. As I was leaning toward the cabin, she tugged on my sleeve and said, “I need a copilot.”
I strapped the bags into a captain’s chair, tugging the seatbelt through the straps to secure them. Climbing into the copilot’s seat on the starboard side of the aircraft, I watched Evelyn as her hands flitted around the cockpit dashboard, pushing buttons and twisting dials as she had done in the SUV.
Soon, the aircraft’s engines were spooled up, and we were taxiing along the runway as the sun had maybe another two hours of hang time in the western sky. She braked, powered up, and released, causing us to throttle along the runway and lift into the sky. She spoke into her headset, presumably with air traffic control in the region. Soon we were over the Atlantic Ocean, bending north. I watched the waves crash on the shores of the French beaches as she smoothly guided the plane to twenty thousand feet.
“You’re a pilot?” I quipped.
“Not especially, but I always wanted to give it a shot,” she replied.
“So far, so good.”
“These buttons do confuse me, though.” She was smiling beneath her microphone and headset. Then her demeanor turned serious. “You may be wondering where we’re going or why I didn’t need to see a doctor after being in captivity.”
“Other than what happened upstairs, those are two of the top things on my mind,” I said.
“Well, what happened upstairs was a combination of mutual attraction, budding emotions, and sexual release based on adrenaline.”
I nodded and said, “I imagine there are lots of studies about that stuff.”
“Lots,” she continued. “And we will put all that in context in due course. First, though, you need to understand why Mitch wanted you to find me.”
“Your ancestral cryptology skills are needed to crack the Phalanx code,” I said.
She looked at me.
“Yes, and I will do that. But the emphasis is on you. Why you specifically needed to rescue me.”
I pondered what she was saying, thought about our northerly course, and replied, “My grandfather’s dog tags? When we were in Africa, you mentioned my grandfather. I’m guessing there’s more to the story.”
“Not just more to the story, but Coop is, in some ways, the story,” she said.
“How did you know his nickname?” I asked.
“In due time, mon général,” she said.
“I’m intrigued,” I said. “I was very close to him. He was in many ways my inspiration for attending West Point, becoming an officer, and serving in the Rangers. Leading his men over Pointe du Hoc on D-Day made him a legend to me and so many others.”
“You’re a good man, Garrett Sinclair. Coop would be proud if he were with us today.”
“I would like to think so, though the prison gig probably wouldn’t have set well with him.”
I turned away from the mesmerizing ocean waves and looked at her. She was fixated on the windscreen, which afforded no view. She was thinking of something else.
“I need to prepare you for something and I’m not sure how,” she said.
“A rare moment of indecision from Miss Champollion? Say it isn’t so,” I said.
“Obviously, based on what happened upstairs, as you say, I have feelings for you. I have since I met you in the Eye of Africa. You’re a powerful force, Garrett. Your wonderful marriage to and love for Melissa sheltered you from the repercussions of this inexplicable aura you generate. You were rightly focused inward and most likely didn’t notice the swooning girls. On top of that, you’re rugged, handsome, smart, and physical. Just the kind of man the world hates today, but mon dieu, I have fallen for you.”
“I’m not sure how to respond to that,” I said.
“See? Even that is the perfect response. You shouldn’t know how to respond. You haven’t stopped grieving over the people you love, but I digress.”
I held up a finger and said, “In all fairness, before you continue, you’re the first woman, Evelyn, I’ve even thought about since Melissa left us, much less … been with.”
“I know that, Garrett. Thank you.” She wiped something from her eyes. The sun was hanging low above the ocean on her side of the airplane. “None of that was the point, though I imagine it was a necessary start to making sense of this.”
She took a deep breath and blew it out before continuing.
“The point is that I don’t want to hurt you, not only because I care about you but also because of how I feel. It would cause me pain to tell you what I have to tell you. No, show you. The whole purpose of this excursion is to understand what we are dealing with before we confront Aurelius Blanc.”
I nodded.
“So unlike you to be cryptic,” I said with a hint of sarcasm.
“Is it really?”
“And again. Regardless, you’ve got me wondering what the hell you’re going to tell me and where we’re going.”
She began banking the airplane and descending. She circled low along towering cliffs above an oval of sandy beach.
“See that right there,” she said, pointing.
I looked to my right as she was cruising low along the shoreline about eye level with the towering cliff at which she was pointing. It all looked very familiar and for good reason.
“That’s Pointe du Hoc.”
12
EVELYN GREASED THE LANDING of the Hawker, as Colonel Jeremy West would say, at Caen-Carpiquet Airport, which was the equivalent of a regional airfield in the United States. It had a few large blue hangars, one of which Evelyn guided the aircraft into using the same precision with which she had flown the plane. The airfield was surrounded by pastures of cattle and sheep milling about on the windswept plain of the Cotentin Peninsula.
An elderly gentleman greeted us as we deplaned. He explained that there was a car waiting for us in the parking lot. The vehicle was a respectably kept olive-colored Land Rover. This time Evelyn drove because she apparently knew the way.
