On the other side of the Atlantic ocean, a sailor was about to live the same weird situation as lieutenants Carter and Rossberg. The man had been requested to come to the Elysée, in Paris, France. The President of the French Republic was living and working in this building. The Elysée was the name used to designate the presidential institution and the location. Hence, being invited by the Elysée was something very special.
The sailor, wearing his navy blue service dress uniform with the white peaked cap, was waiting in front of an office, sit up straight. He looked like someone who had the situation under control, whatever the situation was. But things aren't always as they seem to be.
Many questions invaded his mind. What was the purpose of this appointment? Why him? Why doing this at the Elysée and not in some ordinary place or military base? Why didn't he get his assignment from an officer? Why so many secrets?
He felt honored to receive an official invitation from the Elysée. The letter required him to get to Paris at a given date. His hierarchy wouldn't ask further questions. If he was asked, he would simply answer he was expected by the Ministry of Defense. This pretext would make anyone think he would be given a confidential mission that required a face to face meeting at the Ministry. This scheme wouldn't surprise anybody as the sailor belonged to the prestigious "Commandos Marine" of the French Navy. Someone had also been made available to answer any potential questions from unwanted curious people.
The sailor's host opened the door of his office. He was in his forties and was wearing a suit with a tie.
"Hello. You must be second maître Bernard Rousseau?"
The man stood up.
"Yes, sir."
"I'm Louis Mallet, welcome to the Elysée." the man greeted while shaking Rousseau's right hand. "How was your trip?"
"Good, sir, thank you."
"Come on in, please."
Mallet let Rousseau enter his office first and invited him to sit on one of the two chairs that were in front of his desk. Rousseau chose one and put his cap on his quadriceps. The commando marine quickly scanned the office while Mallet was sitting on his chair.
The walls were lined with gold and invaluable paintings. The French and European Union flags were standing above the fireplace and surrounding the official portrait of the President. The wooden floor was sparkling. The room was beautiful.
Mallet noticed Rousseau's examination and joked:
"Not bad, isn't it?"
"This is definitely a nice place to work in, sir."
Mallet looked Rousseau in the eye.
"You certainly have many questions, so I'll be straightforward. I'm a Diplomatic Advisor. A few years ago, our President assigned me to a special mission. I called you today because we, by we, I mean the President and I, need your contribution to this mission."
Mallet stopped, in case Rousseau wished to add a comment. Rousseau did:
"It's a honor to have your trust, mister Mallet."
"That's normal. I was strongly impressed by your service records. I suggested your name to the President, who approved. I like your ability and willingness to diversify your skills, in parallel of your career in the Navy. Plus, you're single, so I guess being relocated for a few months abroad won't be a problem for you?"
"It's my every day life, sir."
"Indeed, you're right." Mallet replied, noticing how silly his last question was. "Ok, let's talk seriously now."
Louis Mallet stood up and moved to a chest hidden in a wall. He secretly pressed the code, opened the chest, took a folder, and closed the chest. He came back to the desk and took the chair next to Rousseau. The man turned to face the diplomatic advisor. Mallet gave the folder to Rousseau. The soldier hesitated to open it, but Mallet encouraged him with a hand gesture.
Bernard Rousseau removed the cover. The picture below left him extremely puzzled.