Michel Vaillant –The unknown adversary (the title is a tribute to MV comic title nr. 37: L'inconnu des 1000 pistes)
"See, I told you, an obscure circuit in Africa!"
Steve sounded triumphantly while he dried himself off before settling back into his deckchair beside the swimming pool. It was the next day and the guys had opted to stay at home and relax around the Greek-styled pool in the morning, going to the Roquebrun-Racing-Kart club later that day.
Michel, making his way to the diving board answered Steve: "Well, it's not a Formula 1 circuit..."
"Yet" from his deckchair Jean-Pierre, eyes closed behind sunglasses, cut in.
"Yet" the confirmation came from the diving board, were Michel just finished his run and dove into the clear water.
His head came up again and he made himself comfortable, two arms on the rim of the pool before he continued the conversation: "Yet, it's hardly obscure; it has been a MotoGP circuit since its opening."
"You're claiming we're up against a TWO-wheel driver? Well, we've succeeded with two wheels lacking before ()" Steve stated.
"I'm not 'claiming' anything; I merely like to make the observation that Le Mans is a MotoGP circuit too." Michel let himself fall in the water and pushed-off the wall backwards.
"As is Sepang" Jean-Pierre commented.
Steve stood up. When Michel came up to start a length of backstroke, Steve called him, and as Michel raised his head from the water Steve yelled: "Sepang is a MotoGP circuit too!"
"No! You think so Steve?" Michel said feigning amazement. This made Steve return to his deckchair in his patented grumpy way while Michel's laughter was heard from the pool.
That night they entered 'Les douze mois' with high hopes. And they were not disappointed: on their already made table was Michel's original napkin. Both Steve and Michel made a start for it, a struggle threatened until Jean-Pierre cut in: "Steve! It's Michel's game, let him be." Michel read the message under his description, while Steve craned his neck around him to read it at the same time.
"Unbelievable! The nerve some people have!" Steve exclaimed. He was finally able to snatch the napkin from Michel's fingers, reading the English message out loud to Jean-Pierre in a sarcastic voice: "'This is hardly a challenge: Sepang, Malaysia. Hope you had a better time with mine?' Well, we'll just have to teach him a lesson guys! Who does he think he's dealing with? We're champions, I mean... let's think of the most obscure little circuit we ever laid eyes on... Yo guys! Guys?? Talk to me here!"
"We hardly get a change," was the dry comment from Jean-Pierre who was looking at his younger brother curiously. Used to being made fun of by 'those 'nice' Frenchmen', Steve did not react; instead he too turned to Michel. The object of their attention had a dreamy look in his eyes.
"Michel? Talk to me man! I know that look, you're about to run of to rise to a cha...llenge... Oh!" finally Steve's monologue came to an abrupt stop.
"Hardly a challenge?" Michel softly quoted the short message. His eyes lit up. His adversary wanted a challenge? Well, that could be arranged. He took the napkin next to his plate and with determined strokes Michel drew the lines of the circuit he knew completely by heart, the one he could ride with his eyes closed anytime: The Vaillant Circuit.
When he was finished he turned the napkin for Jean-Pierre and Steve to see and with a mischievous light in his eyes he said: "Voilà: a challenge."
During dinner they talked about the upcoming race in Magny Cours. Tomorrow would be their last day in Roquebrune. They would fly from Nice to Nevers. At Nevers Airport there would be a Vaillante with driver waiting to drive them the last 30 km to the circuit. It was not until dessert that the unknown adversary came up in conversation again. It was Jean-Pierre who mentioned him: "The flight from Nice is late at night, leaving us time to eat here at 'Les douze mois'. So you can see if our adversary is up to the challenge"
"Humpf, I think we'll have to come back next year or so, maybe by then he has figured it out," Steve let out sarcastically.
"Oh, but I intend to find out who our unknown adversary is thìs evening" Michel reacted, his voice low.
"How are you going to do that?" Steve asked him, also speaking in hushed tones. "You were too chicken to ask your waitress, remember?"
"MY waitress?" Michel arched his eyebrows: "Care to elaborate, Steve?"
With a broad smile Steve answered: "My pleasure, my pleasure... She is a highly attractive girl that we normally would be happy to bicker over." In the silence that followed he looked at Michel. It was a battle of wills and Michel lost: "I don't see your point" he stated gruffly.
"Oh, let's see..." Steve deliberately stalled, but Michel held his ground this time, although with some effort, Steve noticed. "You see, I'm happily engaged, soon to be equally happily married." Steve shot a glance at Jean-Pierre. Again silence, cut short by a demanding: "And?" from Michel.
Oh yes mister, I'm not stupid, I was your brother in crimes for too many years. I've noticed not only your smile the last couple of evenings, but also your eyes, they do lit up whenever she's at our table and when you're staring into the distance, that distance is usually the bar, or rather, the one behind it... Steve thoughts were interrupted by a growled "STEVE!!??" from his friend.
"Well, it pains my heart, but..." his tone was as if being extremely generous, he sighed: "she's yours."
"Well, I'm moved," Michel responded with a sarcastic gleam in his eyes.
"Of course I hope she'll settle for second best" Steve continued.
This led to an explosion from Michel: "Second best??? SECOND BEST? You don't believe this character, do you?" he exclaimed to Jean-Pierre. Then continuing to Steve: "Do I need to refresh your memory? Second Best! Albert Park, Sepang, San Marino, Monaco, Canada, Indianapolis..."
"Engine failure and a flat tire, mister 'make everything a track-issue'" Steve countered.
"That only covers two occasions!"
Daggers were looked across the table until Jean-Pierre tried to soothe them. "Maybe the gentlemen would like to take their arguing outside? I would not want you to take it up at this table or on the track."
Steve shoved his chair back as Jean-Pierre continued: "And Michel: It's not nice of you to talk to Steve in such a way..." he shook his finger at his younger brother.
Steve turned his head when Jean-Pierre uttered that strange warning. Michel for a moment looked like he was going to boil over, but then something in Jean-Pierre's eyes gave him away.
"Aaaah," Michel uttered and then continued much more relaxed: "And I always got off the hook by saying: "Oui Maman, je m'excuse!" The two brothers burst out in laughter, joined by Steve after the latter stated: "Pffff, I'm glad this has nothing to do with me, you always were a little pest!"
After another café, for Steve a 'café au plus et plus de lait', Michel told the two others about his plan. "I'll just sit in the car outside and wait until they close, never losing sight of our table."
"You're sure you don't have a thing for YOUR waitress? Trying to meet her after she gets off?" Steve asked.
But before they could dive into another endless debate Jean-Pierre cut in: "You planned this, didn't you? It's why you wanted to drive here in two cars, right? Well, you enjoy your napkin-watch! Steve," here his tone became compelling, "and I will go back to the villa. Just remember that I want you as fit as a fiddle in Magny Cours." Any mock-protest or further teasing Steve was thinking of was quelled by Jean-Pierre who brusquely led him outside.
Later as they drove away Steve looked at Jean-Pierre: "You surprise me."
Jean-Pierre, at the wheel of the Vaillante Goodwood, had a small smile on his face when he answered: "Well, Michel surprises me; it's only so often that you succeed in baiting him!"
To make sure he would be able to see the napkin on their table from his car, Michel had folded the napkin into a Bishop's mitre. Within fifteen minutes after reaching his Vaillante Daytona 2003, he saw June clearing their table, but she left the napkin untouched. So she did know something about the napkin-match, Michel thought.
However, the clearing of the table was about the highlight of the evening. By the time 'Les douze mois' closed Michel had more than once wondered what on earth he was doing.
Although killing time looking at June waiting on and conversing with the regulars was not that bad. He saw the last visitors leave, shouting "Au revoirs" at June, saw her closing the doors, making up the register and finally getting a coat from somewhere behind. She put out the lights; only the soft blue light from the electrical flytrap remained. A moment later she came through the door, locking it in the light of a street lamp and pulling down the wooden rolling shutter, on which in weather-beaten, elegant letters was written 'Les douze mois'.
Michel watched her starting down the road. Then suddenly he made the decision to follow her. She had not touched the napkin, so she must know something more about it. They crossed the town square. June seemed not aware of anybody behind her. She was walking leisurely, hands in the pockets of her coat, enjoying the sultry, Mediterranean night.
Suddenly she halted, so did Michel. She seemed to be staring at something some six feet to her right on the ground. Slowly she moved, stepping to her right and suddenly squatting down on what Michel now recognized as the pétanque piste. She seemed to be drawing something in the loose gravel, staring down at it when finished.
He came closer, hiding behind the 'Statue for the fallen children of Roquebrune during the revolution and the two World Wars'. She was tracing the drawing with her hand, closing her eyes but suddenly opening them wide. "No!" she exclaimed. And softer now: "No way!"
She looked down again, following the shallow imprinted drawing once more. Then he heard her whisper: "Jean-Pierre, Steve, Michel... MICHEL!"
He ducked down, for a short moment convinced he had been seen but she was not looking at him instead still staring down, whispering once more: "Michel... Vaillant!"
When she wiped out a napkin and started to write on it voraciously it hit him: 'his waitress' was 'his adversary'! He found the picture in front of him both serene and highly arousing: June squatted down, writing; only now and again stopping to check the gravel in front of her as if to confirm something. His heart started beating fast when he thought of what she could have drawn in the gravel. Finally she stood up.
"Oh yes! You just smell my burning rubber, monsieur Vaillant!" she said, making a winner's gesture with both arms, clenched fists. She looked down one more time and then walked away, a definite spring in her step.
When she had disappeared in one of the narrow streets across the town square, Michel came out from behind the white statue and went to where she had been only moments ago. He stared down at what was indeed the outline of the Vaillant-circuit. After a considerable amount of time his heart stopped making overtime and he was able to think straight again.
It was then that he realised two things: one: hers had been a driver's remark and two: it had been made in English.
() In the album: 'Rodéo sur 2 roues'