| General Fiction posted October 29, 2018 | Chapters: |
...20 21 -22- 23... 
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Chapter 22: Temporary respite
A chapter in the book The French Letter
The Bangkok Connection
by tfawcus
| Background Charles, with help from an unexpected quarter, has released Helen and Mme Durand from their captors, but their troubles may only just be beginning... |
Continued from Chapter 21
We used to go to Muay Thai classes every week - 'the art of the eight limbs'."
"Learning how to be an octopus?"
"No. Learning how to be a lethal weapon. The hands become daggers and swords; the elbows strike like a hammer or mace; the knees cut like an axe, the legs bash like a staff and the shins and forearms protect the body like a suit of armour."
"And I'm talking about protecting you? All I can say is that I'm glad that I'm on your side!"
"You'd better believe it."
Both Helen and I turned to Madame Durand. She winced as she re-adjusted the set of her blouse and began to speak. "Yes, Bangkok," she mused. "That is where it started..."
Chapter 22
"Bangkok is where it started for me, too, if - by 'it' - you mean the spiral into the cesspit of life where you found me."
Helen saw the look on my face, and explained. "Jeanne came to me with an offer to publish a story based on our experiences in Thailand, and offered me a trip to Paris to meet with her associates. My situation was pretty desperate, and I couldn't believe my luck. She was like a fairy godmother to me - or so it seemed at the time."
"Nothing in this life is free, my dear. Your rescue came at a price. Perhaps a higher price than either of us realised."
"What on earth are you two talking about?"
"She didn't know it then, but I'm afraid that I used Helen. She was desperate to get away and I offered her the opportunity. An airline ticket to France, a suitcase full of new clothes and a promise to edit her journal, with a view to publishing parts of it in one of my magazines. I even gave her a substantial advance. The journal was dynamite."
I was watching Mme Durand as she spoke. There might have been something of a fairy godmother about her - a benign face, and neatly set grey hair, with a suspicion of blue rinsed through it - but there was also a hardness in her slate-grey eyes that belied the character. I don't know. Perhaps my head was filled with a foolish ideal. Fairy godmothers need to be ruthless to achieve their aims, not to mention devious. After all, they have to deal with wicked witches, jealous stepmothers, evil queens and - in this case - the spreading tentacles of the Mafia.
By contrast, Helen fitted the Cinderella mould rather well, at least in the sense of being downtrodden by fate, and in need of a helping hand at that particular time. It seems that Mme Durand appeared at an opportune moment, perhaps not in a shower of fairy dust, but with more reliable transport than a pumpkin, and a more useful proposition than a handsome prince.
Helen picked up the tale. "When I arrived in Paris, Jeanne set me up in an apartment and commissioned me to write travel articles. They often involved travelling overseas - usually to the Far East. She encouraged me to think I was able to capture something of the exotic flavour of the Orient in my writing, after having lived there for more than a year."
"It sounds as though she set you up rather well. Perhaps in more ways than one."
"She did, but I didn't find that out until later, and by that time the situation had changed."
"And what about your sister?"
"She had disappeared weeks before - and I haven't heard from her since. I have no idea where she is, or what has happened to her. She may have been murdered, for all I know."
Jeanne raised her arm to put it around Helen's shoulder, and I noticed another fleeting grimace cross her face, from the pain of stretching. "Come now, my dear. You are making wild assumptions. I am sure we will find her, and that she will be perfectly safe. By all accounts, she is more resourceful than the three of us put together."
Helen forced a smile, and said, "I hope you're right."
Determined to find out more, I steered the subject back again. "When you said that you had used Helen, and that nothing in this world comes for free, what exactly did you mean, Madame ...or may I perhaps take the liberty of calling you Jeanne?"
"I am Jeanne to my friends, monsieur. I will leave it up to you to decide if that is an apt description of our relationship. As you will no doubt discover, I am no saint, and I am afraid that now is not the right time to answer your questions."
A gruesome reminder of the fact was the ooze of blood seeping onto her blouse. Conscious of my gaze, she covered the offending spot with the flat of her hand.
"Perhaps you should let Helen help you attend to that. At the very least, she should take a look. It looks as though it needs medical attention."
"Medical attention? I don't think so. I have no love of hospitals, nor of the medical profession.
"If the idiots at the American Hospital had done their job properly, I would never have been abducted by those two men, and taken away in their so-called Private Ambulance. It is because of their sloppy practices that I've been held prisoner for days in appalling conditions, while the Mafia bosses have been planning how to use me to ensnare you two.
"Now this! Brought here. Intimidated. Mutilated. And for what? Come, Helen. I shall need to fix a more secure dressing. There is very little time before we must make our escape. They will soon be back."
"But surely," I said, "if we go down to the gendarmerie and make a full statement, they will be bound over for trial, found guilty, and then imprisoned."
Madame Durand laughed bitterly. "You don't know these people. They will be back within a few hours - probably sooner. Our only hope is to vanish. We must find a place where they would not even think of looking. Even if those two are detained for a while, there will be others."
I could see the sense in what she said. "It sounds as though that journal of yours could be an important document, Helen. Where is it now?"
"I have it hidden in the apartment, Charles. It's quite safe."
Although they had now both moved to the next room, I could hear Jeanne saying, "I hope so - because it contains material that the Mafia would go to any lengths to suppress. If it ever fell into their hands..."
"It won't. You can be certain of that."
"I hope you're right, but to be sure, we should go by way of your apartment and pick it up."
We used to go to Muay Thai classes every week - 'the art of the eight limbs'."
"Learning how to be an octopus?"
"No. Learning how to be a lethal weapon. The hands become daggers and swords; the elbows strike like a hammer or mace; the knees cut like an axe, the legs bash like a staff and the shins and forearms protect the body like a suit of armour."
"And I'm talking about protecting you? All I can say is that I'm glad that I'm on your side!"
"You'd better believe it."
Both Helen and I turned to Madame Durand. She winced as she re-adjusted the set of her blouse and began to speak. "Yes, Bangkok," she mused. "That is where it started..."
Chapter 22
"Bangkok is where it started for me, too, if - by 'it' - you mean the spiral into the cesspit of life where you found me."
Helen saw the look on my face, and explained. "Jeanne came to me with an offer to publish a story based on our experiences in Thailand, and offered me a trip to Paris to meet with her associates. My situation was pretty desperate, and I couldn't believe my luck. She was like a fairy godmother to me - or so it seemed at the time."
"Nothing in this life is free, my dear. Your rescue came at a price. Perhaps a higher price than either of us realised."
"What on earth are you two talking about?"
"She didn't know it then, but I'm afraid that I used Helen. She was desperate to get away and I offered her the opportunity. An airline ticket to France, a suitcase full of new clothes and a promise to edit her journal, with a view to publishing parts of it in one of my magazines. I even gave her a substantial advance. The journal was dynamite."
I was watching Mme Durand as she spoke. There might have been something of a fairy godmother about her - a benign face, and neatly set grey hair, with a suspicion of blue rinsed through it - but there was also a hardness in her slate-grey eyes that belied the character. I don't know. Perhaps my head was filled with a foolish ideal. Fairy godmothers need to be ruthless to achieve their aims, not to mention devious. After all, they have to deal with wicked witches, jealous stepmothers, evil queens and - in this case - the spreading tentacles of the Mafia.
By contrast, Helen fitted the Cinderella mould rather well, at least in the sense of being downtrodden by fate, and in need of a helping hand at that particular time. It seems that Mme Durand appeared at an opportune moment, perhaps not in a shower of fairy dust, but with more reliable transport than a pumpkin, and a more useful proposition than a handsome prince.
Helen picked up the tale. "When I arrived in Paris, Jeanne set me up in an apartment and commissioned me to write travel articles. They often involved travelling overseas - usually to the Far East. She encouraged me to think I was able to capture something of the exotic flavour of the Orient in my writing, after having lived there for more than a year."
"It sounds as though she set you up rather well. Perhaps in more ways than one."
"She did, but I didn't find that out until later, and by that time the situation had changed."
"And what about your sister?"
"She had disappeared weeks before - and I haven't heard from her since. I have no idea where she is, or what has happened to her. She may have been murdered, for all I know."
Jeanne raised her arm to put it around Helen's shoulder, and I noticed another fleeting grimace cross her face, from the pain of stretching. "Come now, my dear. You are making wild assumptions. I am sure we will find her, and that she will be perfectly safe. By all accounts, she is more resourceful than the three of us put together."
Helen forced a smile, and said, "I hope you're right."
Determined to find out more, I steered the subject back again. "When you said that you had used Helen, and that nothing in this world comes for free, what exactly did you mean, Madame ...or may I perhaps take the liberty of calling you Jeanne?"
"I am Jeanne to my friends, monsieur. I will leave it up to you to decide if that is an apt description of our relationship. As you will no doubt discover, I am no saint, and I am afraid that now is not the right time to answer your questions."
A gruesome reminder of the fact was the ooze of blood seeping onto her blouse. Conscious of my gaze, she covered the offending spot with the flat of her hand.
"Perhaps you should let Helen help you attend to that. At the very least, she should take a look. It looks as though it needs medical attention."
"Medical attention? I don't think so. I have no love of hospitals, nor of the medical profession.
"If the idiots at the American Hospital had done their job properly, I would never have been abducted by those two men, and taken away in their so-called Private Ambulance. It is because of their sloppy practices that I've been held prisoner for days in appalling conditions, while the Mafia bosses have been planning how to use me to ensnare you two.
"Now this! Brought here. Intimidated. Mutilated. And for what? Come, Helen. I shall need to fix a more secure dressing. There is very little time before we must make our escape. They will soon be back."
"But surely," I said, "if we go down to the gendarmerie and make a full statement, they will be bound over for trial, found guilty, and then imprisoned."
Madame Durand laughed bitterly. "You don't know these people. They will be back within a few hours - probably sooner. Our only hope is to vanish. We must find a place where they would not even think of looking. Even if those two are detained for a while, there will be others."
I could see the sense in what she said. "It sounds as though that journal of yours could be an important document, Helen. Where is it now?"
"I have it hidden in the apartment, Charles. It's quite safe."
Although they had now both moved to the next room, I could hear Jeanne saying, "I hope so - because it contains material that the Mafia would go to any lengths to suppress. If it ever fell into their hands..."
"It won't. You can be certain of that."
"I hope you're right, but to be sure, we should go by way of your apartment and pick it up."
 Recognized |
|
List of major characters:
Charles Brandon: The narrator, a well-known travel writer
Helen Culverson: A woman of mystery, also purporting to be a travel writer
Kayla Culverson: Her older sister.
Madame Jeanne Durand: A French magazine editor, who was involved in a serious accident
Dr. Laurent: A veterinary surgeon in Versailles
Father Pierre Lacroix, vicar of the Versailles Notre Dame church
Madame Lefauvre: An old woman living in Versailles - the town gossip
Francoise Gaudin: An intellectually disabled woman living in Versailles
Alain Gaudin: brother of Francoise
Estelle Gaudin [deceased]: mother of Francoise and Alain
Mademoiselle Suzanne Gaudin [deceased]: Alain's grandmother, to whom the mysterious letter of 1903 was addressed.
Colonel Neville Arnoux [deceased] - of whom we may hear more later.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Charles Brandon: The narrator, a well-known travel writer
Helen Culverson: A woman of mystery, also purporting to be a travel writer
Kayla Culverson: Her older sister.
Madame Jeanne Durand: A French magazine editor, who was involved in a serious accident
Dr. Laurent: A veterinary surgeon in Versailles
Father Pierre Lacroix, vicar of the Versailles Notre Dame church
Madame Lefauvre: An old woman living in Versailles - the town gossip
Francoise Gaudin: An intellectually disabled woman living in Versailles
Alain Gaudin: brother of Francoise
Estelle Gaudin [deceased]: mother of Francoise and Alain
Mademoiselle Suzanne Gaudin [deceased]: Alain's grandmother, to whom the mysterious letter of 1903 was addressed.
Colonel Neville Arnoux [deceased] - of whom we may hear more later.
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