Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Qu’il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose
Another café, another ancient French song wafting out from speakers mounted above the door – why was my handler always asking me to meet in such places? And why did I always agree?
“I’m supposed to be retired,” I told him, by way of a greeting.
He nodded his head in tacit agreement, waving me into the chair opposite his. It was tall, made from faux bamboo, and featured a magenta velvet cushion. “You hate retirement,” he said, after a moment. “You miss the thrill of the chase.”
“You’re the hunter,” I reminded him. “I’m just the closer. And I have other obligations now.”
“Oh, yes. You’re the very picture of domestic bliss. How many teas have you hosted now?”
“One was actually a lunch,” I said. “And the other was a benefit for the Star Navy Office of Rescue and Extraction.”
“Ah, yes, SNORE.” He snorted the last word. “Only the Navy would come up with such an acronym for the operation that saves its citizens left on abandoned or failed colonies.”
“Renato created that unit.”
“Of course. And you’re the dutiful partner, supporting his endeavors.”
“There are worse things I could be doing,” I protested.
“There are also better things.”
A server arrived with two espresso cortados and presented one to each of us. The strong, bitter, slightly chocolaty aroma tickled my nose. I couldn’t resist tasting it, and when I did, my senses came alive. “This is real,” I said. “Not synthesized.”
“Only the best for the best,” he said.
I wanted to push the coffee away, but this man has always known me too well. I take another sip. “Flattery only gets you so far, Mart… what’s this really about?”
“Hatteras Six.”
“The prince?” One of my last gigs for Martigan’s organization had been ensuring that the prince’s marriage to a Betelgeusean princess took place.
“His father. He believes there’s a conspiracy to assassinate him and put his son on the throne, but under Syndicate control.”
“Mart – I can’t. I have a different life now. Besides, the last time I was involved in Hatteran politics, I nearly got killed.” I took another slow sip of the coffee. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the best.”
“So, you’ve said. Martigan…”
“Sasha…” He imitated my tone. Then he sighed. “Don’t you miss it? The adventure? The intrigue? Knowing that you’re changing the galaxy for good?” He paused for a second then added, “me?”
It was the final word that got me. Martigan and I had worked together for years – decades even – and you don’t have a relationship like ours without chemistry – good chemistry. But I’d fallen into the role of his protégé, and he had apparently relished being my mentor. I’d tried to seduce him once when I was much younger, and he’d been kind and gentle when he turned me down, convincing me it was just a workplace infatuation.
Over time, I’d learned to read him. I knew he’d desired me but needed my skills outside the bedroom more. I also knew he had a very particular code of honor… or decorum… that would never have let him act on his desires at the time.
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” I lied.
“Yes, you did.”
Damn him! “Yes, I did,” I agreed. “Why now?”
“Because you really are the best person for this job Sash. The prince knows you – trusts you. The princess won’t see you as a threat.”
“If I do this – ” I began.
“- I’ll give you all the support you need,” he finished my thought. “Backup, a ship, everything.”
I smiled. “If I do this, I want you.”
“As a partner? I’m a bit rusty – been behind the scenes too long.”
“No, Mart. I want you.”
“And Renato?”
“I’m sure he’ll find someone else to host his teas.”
“So, he is too normal for you!”
“No. Yes. It’s… complicated. Let’s just say, there’s more than one reason we’ve never married.” I rose, preparing to leave. “You know my terms. You know where I’m staying or can easily find out. Let me know by twenty-two hundred hours tonight.”
He looked up at me and nodded once.
I drained the last of the coffee from my cup, and set it down on the table, then walked out of the café without looking back.
Martigan caught me at the door. I turned to face him, but he didn’t speak. He tilted my chin upward with a single finger and then kissed me. Coffee and pipe tobacco from him, coffee and lipstick from me – a match made in some cheesy dime novel from the back of beyond.
“Is that goodbye?” I asked.
“No. It’s a down payment.”
“I’ll collect the rest tonight,” I said, and continued out of the café though I tossed a final comment back at him. “I’ll still need the backup and the ship.”
The music from the speakers, a woman’s voice thick with emotion, followed me down the street.
C’est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie
Il me l’a dit, l’a juré pour la vie
* * *
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Qu’il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose