CHAPTER 4

"Espionage, for the most part, involves finding a person who knows something or has something that you can induce them to secretly give to you. That almost always involves a betrayal of trust."

- Aldrich Ames – Earth (Human)

PARIS, FRANCE, EARTH

SEPTEMBER 2269

Colonel Jons was sitting at a street-side table at Cafe Le Sancerre on Rue des Abbesses in Paris. Away from the more popular tourist locations, it suited his purposes. Though he was wearing civilian clothes, it is simply not possible for a short, violet-skinned man with white hair to be non-descript in a human city. Aliens were not uncommon in Paris, but they still stood out from the crowd of everyday Frenchmen no matter where they went.

Enjoying a strong black coffee and reading a real paper copy of Le Monde he watched the city go through its morning rituals. Jons felt that coffee was one of humanity's lasting contributions to the universe and inhaled the aroma gratefully. As he was glancing over the cricket scores – a sport he followed avidly when he was in human space – a tall Frenchman in a dark suit seated himself across from him.

"Bon jour, Colonel Jons."

"Just Seins today, Robert. And Standard, please. My French isn't what it should be." He folded the paper and set it down, smiling at his guest.

"Very well, Seins. Is this a...good place to talk?"

"You know as well as I that as things stand these days, one place is as good as another."

"I see. What brings you to Paris?"

"I'm here for the shopping, of course."

The tall man smiled, "You diplomats, always shopping. Of course, Paris is famed for it's shopping. Are you looking for anything special? And is this trip for yourself, or for a friend?"

"The same friend I was shopping for on my last visit – and perhaps for myself as well. I have a list, of course. Some coffee?" He reached for the pot and poured the man a cup. At the same time he smoothly dropped an isolinear chip into the saucer as he clunked the spout of the pot on the edge of the cup, masking the sound of the chip falling.

The Frenchman enjoyed his coffee, the two of them turning their discussion to the cricket matches and France's chances against England in the football World Cup this year.

"Well, Seins, it was as always pleasant to talk with you. I wish you luck with your shopping. Are you in Paris for many days?"

"Perhaps another week, and then I must make a short trip to Marseille to conclude some business for my Duke. There is a duty that I must perform."

"You Hydrans and your duties..." the Frenchman shrugged and stood up. "Bon jour." and he made his way down towards Rue Ravigan. As he left. Jons noticed a tall black woman who had been window shopping across the street immediately turn to follow him.

Frowning to himself, Jons thought for a moment. Robert would, as was his habit, make a loop around the block to see if he was being followed. He would have to cut through the park before taking the Metro. Habits would get a man killed in this business, Jons thought disgustedly.

Leaving a few credits on the table he got up, pulled his cap more tightly onto his head and headed directly to the empty park. Finding a place where his small stature would leave him concealed but without making him look like he was trying to hide he relaxed as though he were simply enjoying the morning air. He didn't have long to wait. A few minutes later, Robert came walking past as though he hadn't a care in the world. As he headed down to the Metro station, the woman following him was hurrying to catch up before she lost sight of him. Focused on Robert, she didn't see Jons and he quickly took advantage of her inattention, the flat-bladed Hydran knife killing quickly and silently as he stepped backwards with her into the shadows of the greenery, another sad victim of a robbery gone wrong.

Quickly relieving her body of anything of value, he found the Starfleet communicator he expected – These could be tracked. Standing up he moved rapidly into the Metro station, purchased a pass and got on the train. Leaving her communicator hidden under a seat cushion, he got off at the next stop, dumping her valuables into an incinerator bin. But not before checking her ID and noting that she had been one Commander Kagiso Botha. He frowned to himself. That name sounded familiar. Having to kill on these sorts of missions was an unpleasant duty, one that should not need to be undertaken. Robert was becoming too careless. A carelessness that could expose his Duke, and that could not be tolerated.

Although Robert's position within Starfleet's Research Branch was extremely useful, that utility was being outweighed by the danger he was creating with his carelessness. Jons decided that his duty to protect the Hydran's penetration of Starfleet outweighed Robert's usefulness. There were others to be considered as well.