Part 6 of 18
"Dolphin?" Dwayne ventures, "Does that mean anything to anyone?"
They all shake their heads.
"Google dolphin and south of France and handkerchief," Camille suggests.
He does and sits back with a sigh, "Well, if this doesn't beat all! Here's an odd little story about dolphins dancin' on the waves by moonlight, a sight not seen in decades and certainly not so close to shore. A folded white handkerchief was found aboard a little boat that was reported stolen then found nearby. Several more handkerchiefs were also found in all the little shops in a village just several miles up the coast." He reads a bit then nods, "Someone has started a story about 'the polite man' and his travels."
Fidel grins, "The Polite Man, I like that."
Next morning, dock side
Once more hiding behind the mustache with dark glasses added to hide his distinctive eyes, Richard is enjoying the warm sun on his skin as Johnny and Angus watch the yacht. He listens to their conversation with half an ear. He is missing Camille most awfully. Last night, he'd awakened in the night to find that he'd spooned Angus rather aggressively. He'd slide out of the tiny bed in a panic and finished the night on the floor. When they'd awakened, Angus had frowned and apologized for tossing Richard out of bed.
Richard didn't have the nerve to tell him the truth, "That's all right. Tonight you get the floor, if we're still here." Angus had nodded and then they'd gone to get Johnny and begin the surveillance.
How I miss this, Richard thinks, basking in the heat. He opens his eyes to see Angus watching him. Both men smile in agreement and the conversation turns to their home island and their wives.
"Spy work is all well and good but it isn't meant for married men with families," Johnny murmurs. "The risks, the dangers, the ladies…" He sits up suddenly, "Speaking of which, here comes the lady in question right now. Right, gentlemen, load up. We're off on our first probable car chase! Let's see what British automotive ingenuity can do when matched with a nose hair trimmer!"
Southern France, somewhere in the hills
Richard is jigging in the back seat of the red sport car and matching Johnny swear word for swear word as they try to get around the clot of French bikers. The tinny sound of their car horn gets only amused looks over the shoulders of the cyclists at the back of the pack.
"Miserable people, the French. Can't be trusted and they have no manners whatso…"
Johnny's command to arm the missiles catches Richard in mid-rant. He and Angus share a dismayed look but the missile is launched before either man can think of anything to say. As Johnny motors serenely through the pack of coughing choking men, Richard has just enough time to thrust his calling card into the hand of the only man left standing.
Leaning out the window, he calls back at the astounded Frenchman, "So sorry!"
"Really, Richard, you'll only encourage them," Johnny gently exhorts.
Richard and Angus cover their eyes (those brilliant green eyes) and groan.
END – part 6