The Marseille Caper Read Online Free Page B

“We eat less than you do, we eat more slowly than you do, and we don’t eat between meals. Simple.”
    While Elena was digesting these words of wisdom, Reboul joined in, shaking his head. “It’s changing in France,” he said. “Our habits are changing, our diet is changing, our shape is changing—too much fast food, too many sugary drinks.” He patted his stomach. “Maybe I should give up Sauternes. But not just yet.”
    They were now flying into the darkness of night, and Mathilde had transformed their armchairs into flat beds and dimmed the cabin lights. It had been a hectic day for Elena and Sam, and they left Reboul, with a final glass of Sauternes, to catch up on his phone calls.
    Elena yawned and stretched and lay back with a grateful sigh. She turned off her reading light. After two years withouta vacation, she allowed the thought of tomorrow to wash over her. She would be in the South of France, with nothing to do but relax.
    “Sam?”
    “What?”
    “Thanks for taking the job. You know, we should do this more often.”
    Sam smiled in the darkness. “Goodnight, Elena.”
    “Goodnight, Sam.”
    Mathilde, crisp and fresh and dressed by Saint Laurent in the colors of the French flag—red silk scarf, white shirt, and blue suit—woke them with the offer of orange juice, croissants, and coffee. They would be landing in half an hour. The sun was already up and, according to the pilot’s cheerful report, the weather forecast promised a fine warm day with temperatures in the high seventies.
    They were finishing breakfast when Reboul appeared, perky and newly shaved, to have a cup of coffee with them. After being assured that they had slept well, he moved a little closer to Sam and lowered his voice. “Once we’re in Marseille,” he said, “it is important that we’re not seen together. That would risk spoiling everything. So when we land, I shall stay on the plane for half an hour to let you get away. Your car and your driver, Olivier, are waiting for you. He will take you to the house where you will be staying. Claudine will meet you there and take care of everything you need. She will give you each a cell phone with a French number. Call me—you’llfind my cell number in your phone memory—to make sure we can be in touch at any time. And then, well …” Reboul made an expansive gesture in the general direction of the city. “Marseille is yours for the day. I can recommend Peron for lunch, or Olivier can take you to Cassis, Aix, the Luberon, wherever you like. Work starts tomorrow. Let’s talk this evening to go over the details.”
    They were now starting their descent, and Elena had her first glimpse of the Mediterranean, glinting in the sun, with the outer limits of the sprawl of Marseille visible in the distance. She reached over and took Sam’s hand. “Isn’t the light fantastic? Everything looks like it’s been scrubbed. Where’s the smog?”
    Sam squeezed her hand. “Homesick already? I don’t think they do smog here. The mistral keeps it away—or maybe it’s the garlic in the bouillabaisse . You’re going to like Marseille; it’s a fine old town. Shall we stay here today, or do you want to see a bit of the coast?”
    Before Elena could reply, Mathilde came by to check their seat belts and go over the landing procedure. “All you need are your passports,” she said. “Your bags will be cleared through customs and put in the car. Olivier will be waiting in the parking area. I hope you have a wonderful stay in Marseille.”
    The plane touched down and taxied toward the small private terminal before easing to a halt. Not quite like landing at LAX, Elena thought, as she watched the baggage handlers scurrying around the plane. She half expected to be picked up bodily and carried by careful hands for the final short leg of the journey.
    They made their farewells to Reboul, Mathilde, and the pilot, and stepped out into a glorious Provençal morning—sharp, polished light and a