Sleeper's Run

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

"Excusez-moi, monsieur," the train attendant says, waking me up. Est-ce que vous allez bien?"

It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings. The train is not moving; we have arrived in Nice. More than falling asleep, I passed out as soon as I sat in the train.

"Oui, je suis partait. Merci beaucoup," I say while grabbing my bag and walking out of the station.

The sun is already out over the Baroque-influenced buildings. I'm weak and starving, so I find a café and order a croque-monsieur and a large orange juice. I start searching a local newspaper for a place to stay and use Skype to call the places I find promising. After a few phone calls, I find exactly what I need: a nice old couple trying to make some extra cash by renting a room in their apartment.

I show up in brand new clothes with a dyed red beard and gray-colored eyes behind thick-framed glasses. The place is a modest four-story condo with iron balconies; it is wedged between two buildings on a quiet street.

"Good afternoon, I'm Alois. We talked on the phone about the room," I say.

"Yes, of course. Please come in. I'm Agnès," says a lovely lady who wouldn't be out of place as a corporate image for a brand of homemade cookies. "This is my husband Maurice."

"How do you do?" says a blue-collar veteran in suspenders; he is perched on his chair while reading the newspaper. A soccer game is playing on TV.

"His name is Alois... I'm sorry, honey. What was your last name?" Agnès says.

"Guthier. But please, call me Alo. Everyone does." I hope the nickname will keep anyone from connecting me to my French identity before I can change it.

"And what do you do for a living?" Maurice says while getting up.

"I'm a freelance writer for travel guides," I say.

"That sounds so lovely! Maurice and I have never left Nice."

"That's not true, we went to your sister's wedding."

"Oh that was forty years ago and we went to Marseilles."

With my first week of rent paid in cash and a handshake for a contract, I go to my room and watch the news on my laptop. "Suspected terrorist attack at Le Bourget Airport," reads the headline. There's a picture of a heavily damaged police car and some covered corpses. The article doesn't give too many details. "Officers from the National Gendarmerie Intervention Group died during a secret operation involving a suspected terrorist cell." There's nothing about me, but the arrest of Tony made the BBC and CNN headlines.

The BBC website shows a picture of Tony covering his face as he's being taken into custody. The article says that last night the French police received an anonymous call—courtesy of a humble servant—leading them to an abandoned building in Gare Du Nord. Tony was found badly beaten among three unidentified, armed corpses and two seriously wounded unidentified men. Can one of them be Blake? The police and Tony's lawyer have made no comments, but the French press speculate that the incident is drug related since cocaine was found at the scene. The reports don't connect Tony's incident with the shootout at the airport.

As for news in Venezuela, the US Secretary of State has talked to President Ramos regarding the future of the country and ways to strengthen diplomatic relations between both nations. Most of the main opposition parties have decided to put their differences aside and unify into a single political party called the Frente Democrático Unido (FDU)—the United Democratic Front—with Rafael Montenegro as its leader. Montenegro had spoken with the Secretary of State as well, and offered no comment regarding his son's legal woes.