THE FRENCHMAN

Surprisingly, I felt ready for the trip to New York City, psychologically anyway. On a practical note, I actually had to buy some food and coffee on the way anyway, but before departing I wanted that cash.

"Sir, can you please pay me now?"

"Yes, of course. I forgot." He reached for his wallet and passed me two one-hundred-dollar notes and a bankcard issued by Société Générale Banque.

I took the money and checked to see that it was authentic. I looked at the name on the card: Daniel Bourjaillat. He was a Frenchman, or perhaps even Canadian. I thought for a second... He was probably French. His English was good, but he had a strange accent. It wasn't like the fake French accent that Polish girls in perfume stores try to imitate. It was very hard to explain, but it actually sounded really nice.

"Excuse me Daniel..."

"Yes?"

"You are French, aren't you?"

Daniel sighed. "You could say that. But in reality, I'm a globetrotter, a citizen of the world."

"Well, you have to have a home. Probably somewhere in France...?"

"Oh, Mon Dieu. Certainement. I'm joking. I have a beautiful seafront apartment in Monte Carlo. And a small house in Zurich."

"European tax haven. That's nice," I nodded. But I really didn't want to get involved this time. I took the radio microphone and called the base. "Hello, vehicle number 2874 has a drive to New York City."

"2874, what can I do for you?"

"Just record somewhere details, for security reasons. It is Mon-sie-ur Daniel Bo-ur-ja-…"

"Bourjaillat. Bourjaillat. And Monsieur is not my name. That's just French for 'mister'."

"OK, I'll try again. Mister Daniel Bourjaillat." I spelled out the name. It may sound embarrassing, but after eight years in the States I was still struggling to spell words.

"I'll record that for you 2874. Have a nice trip." His words were followed by the standard funny sound of a Motorola radio marking the end of communication.

"Maybe I should record your number, too," Daniel said in his old-fashioned style humor.

"Yeah, sure."

"I'm just kidding, mister. What is your name?"

"Again? The last time a customer asked for my name it didn't end up as I expected."

***

I was driving Linda to Morrison Clark Inn.

"Can you please check again to see if anyone is following us?" Linda asked, still crouching down in the backseat.

"I'm not taking my eyes off the mirror. Don't worry."

"Good. Please be alert." Linda's voice hinted the stressfulness of the situation.

"We are almost there. We may have trouble finding car park."

"I know a spot behind the Inn. Do you have keyless entry on your cab?"

"Yes, why?" I was surprised by this question. I turned my head around and saw Linda still hiding in the seat behind me. "You can get up now. I don't want us to look awkward when we get there."

"No, listen to me. You will get out of the car while I remain in here, and after some twenty yards, you will lock the car and find a quiet table in the bar. I will join you discreetly afterwards."

I started thinking about how such a stunt would go unnoticed, but more than that, I didn't like the prospect of Linda staying in the car alone. She could take her bags out of the cab and run away without paying, or even pinch the car.

"No way, Linda. What is going on here?"

"Listen to me, Zoran! You don't realize just how skilled these people are. They are way out of your league, but I don't have anyone better right now that could help me. If you just listen to me, we'll be all right. Please trust me."

I was slightly offended by her demeaning implication, but the whole thing was now beginning to take on an exciting turn. I felt the same rush of interest like any curious cat would. What could I possibly lose? Still, I didn't like how she was patronizing me. 'They are way out of your league'. I used the same tricks to pick up ladies, encouraging them to prove themselves to me, although they weren't interested in me in the first place. The difference was that I was the one interested in Linda.

"If you'd just listen to me, we'll be all right. They won't suspect a thing. Please trust me."

I couldn't decide what to do. The worst she could do was to cheat me out of four dollars worth of cab charges. I really didn't have much to lose. This extraordinary customer was definitely worth more than four bucks.

"OK, I'll do as you tell me."

"Thank you, Zoran. You have no idea how much I appreciate all this. Just turn right here and you should see a small parking lot at the back of that building."

It was easy to see in Linda's eyes that she felt a bit more relieved than ten minutes ago. I parked at the back of the lot.

"Please don't turn back when you leave the car. I don't want them to suspect anything if they are watching. I'll be right with you."

I didn't say anything as I wasn't really happy with the whole idea, but I just went along with it anyway. I walked in. I guess it was bad acting on my behalf, like some B-grade action movie, and anybody watching me walk away from the car would have guessed that something wasn't right. I basically pressed the button on the remote control which locked the car, stepped into the inn, looked around and chose a small table in the corner. But I couldn't stop thinking about Linda. Would she really do what she promised? Would she run away? Or even rob me?

As time passed, I was more and more certain that I had been fooled. What would I tell Selma now...or the insurance company? Damn! I wanted to leave the bloody place because with every minute passing it felt like my donkey ears were growing larger and larger. She didn't need that much time. Just as I stood up to leave the place, I heard, "Zoran!"

I turned and saw Linda behind me.

"Hi, darling, would you join me here? This is a much better spot."

I was so happy to see her, but the stress which she had put me through prevented me from smiling. The hundreds of muscles in my body were still frozen.

"Come on, have a seat... Have some drinks. You look stressed. Oh my God, you're blushing." Linda tried to sound surprised, although there was a hint of teasing in her deep sultry voice.

I sat down next to her, still in shock. This time the surprise was even bigger. Linda looked like a completely different lady. Apart from the absence of her jacket and her up-do from earlier, her anxiety wasn't noticeably present.

"I like your shoes." Linda pointed at my squarish and impossibly slick black shoes.

"Thank you."

I was really flattered. Although shoes weren't a 'big deal' for middle-class Americans, I always paid special attention to good Italian shoes. It is the first thing most fashion conscious ladies look at when they meet someone - shoes and watches. That's why I own a ceramic Rado watch, stylish enough without hurting the pocket. Anything more expensive would make people think it was a fake. Those two items were my seducing arsenal.

Apparently, it also seemed to work on Linda, who became slightly more curious about me. "So, where did you get your lovely accent from?"

"Forget about me. What is going on here?"

"Forget about everything for a while, "Linda said bitterly. "Relax."

"I am not stressed. I am just curious to know what game you are playing," I said in a not-so-friendly tone as I was used to being in control of things, but this whole situation seemed out of my hands.

"It's not a game!" Linda snapped, and then gently, focusing on my eyes, said, "Really, I am scared."

"Do you have anywhere to go? Is that guy harassing you?"

"More than you can imagine," Linda said, but quickly moved her gaze from my eyes. The whole topic was bothering her, so without hesitation she cleared her throat and changed the subject with a brighter tone. "Come on. Where are you from?"

"What do you think?"

"Don't play games with me," Linda teased as her eyes searched for hints of my origin. "Russia."

Bloody accent. "No, I am not Russian, but our accent always makes people to think that I am from Russia. No, I am Bosnian Serb if that would be politically correct definition. I am from Sarajevo. You probably heard. Olympic city."

"Well, I've heard many things about Sarajevo."

"I bet you did," I said cynically.

Linda focused the topic on me again. "Your English is good."

"Well, I knew just a few, mainly swear words, when we came here. We used to learn Russian in school. So this is how much I learned in last eight years."

"No, it's really good. Do you speak any other languages?"

I laughed. "As I said, I speak Russian, some Portuguese and Italian, but every second day I find out that I can speak some new language. Bosnian, Croatian, Montenegrin... Who knows how many languages we will invent? It all used to be Serbo-Croatian, but after the war every ethnicity has to have its own language."

We were both quiet for a moment as the waiter approached us. Linda ordered a double scotch and I asked for my favorite, Jägermeister on the rocks.

"Can you drink and drive as a cabbie?"

"We Serbians can do anything and everything. It's good for stomach." I was getting my confidence back. "Tell me, who is that guy? Your ex-husband? Boyfriend?"

"I told you, he was my lover. More than a decade ago."

"A decade ago!" I couldn't believe that guys like that still existed.

"That's right. I know it may be hard to comprehend, but the problem is that he's married and he is now afraid that I'll create all sorts of trouble for him." She paused for a while. "Look, I really don't want to talk about him. At least not without some booze." She smiled.

"OK then."

I tried to find other things we could talk about instead, and then recalled that famous question. "Tell me, Linda, do you know any big shots?"

***