Chapter 10: The Same White Table With Gold Rim
Mr. Belgasham chose same table again. White round top with gold rim. Same sidewalk cafe. Same beige stone buildings with balconies behind. I watched from inside window. That was plan.
He'd told me night before in apartment near canal. Table carries memory. Handler recognizes location. Guard makes call. We watch. I didn't like plan. My gray shirt still smelled like coffee. Dirt still on my collar. He said recognition matters. Handler saw me once. He would remember worn gray shirt. I hated wearing it again. I wore it anyway.
Morning came overcast. Daylight flat and gray. Paris street smelled like wet stone and espresso. Cafe staff set same white table on sidewalk. Belgasham sat. Dark three-piece suit clean now except faint shadow where stain had been. White pocket square folded. White napkin folded on table next to empty cup. He ordered coffee he didn't drink. Guard stood near curb. Black leather jacket zipped half. Hand near chest pocket even though vial now gone. Cops had copy. Lab had copy. Pocket empty but habit remained.
Second scene built slow. Belgasham gave guard phone back. One call only. Speaker on. Surveillance two blocks away in black car now parked clean in focus. Plainclothes guy at newspaper kiosk. Woman with stroller who wasn't mother. I crouched behind cafe window. Glass cold against forehead. Waitress told me stay low. She wiped same table inside and glanced out. She remembered spill. She remembered me knocking brown liquid across gold rim. She didn't ask why I came back.
Guard dialed. Voice shook.
[00:00:00.000-00:00:02.000] He said handler name. I didn't know name before. He said meet at cafe. Same place as last time. He said boss wants to talk money.
Silence on line. Then man answered. Low voice. Said fifteen minutes.
Guard looked at Belgasham. Belgasham nodded once. Calm authoritative demeanor held. He adjusted napkin. He didn't look at me in window but I knew he knew I was there.
Third scene stretched. Fifteen minutes felt long. I counted buses. I watched Belgasham's hands. Steady on napkin. Guard sweated despite overcast air. Forehead shone. He kept touching empty pocket then pulling hand away. He whispered to Belgasham, "What if he don't come."
Belgasham said, "He comes. He fears losing payout."
I breathed on window. Fogged small circle. Wiped it with sleeve. Gray shirt cuff frayed. Dirt smudged on my face again because I hadn't washed hard. Belgasham wanted me recognizable. I felt exposed behind glass.
At twelve minutes black scooter stopped across street. Man in navy windbreaker, early forties, short hair under cap, got off. Didn't lock scooter. Walked toward cafe but eyes scanned. Not at Belgasham first. At window. At me.
Fourth scene snapped fast. Handler slowed mid-step. Saw my dirt-smudged face. Saw worn gray shirt. Recognition hit. His stride broke. He half-turned. Belgasham stood from table. White napkin still in hand.
Guard raised hand small, called, "Hey. Here."
Handler didn't answer. Eyes darted to guard, to Belgasham, to plainclothes at kiosk who shifted weight. He understood trap. He turned full. Walked away fast then jogged. Not ran. Fast walk that pretended calm.
Belgasham said one word, low, "Stay."
He meant me. I started to push door. He glanced sideways sharp. I stopped. Guard stepped forward like he would chase. Belgasham grabbed his leather sleeve. Held him.
Plainclothes moved but handler cut between parked cars, mounted scooter, kicked start. Scooter coughed. He vanished down side street before car could block.
Silence fell on sidewalk again. Coffee steam rose from cup no one drank. Napkin stayed white in Belgasham's hand.
Fifth scene settled cold. Waitress stared. Two old men at next table stared. Guard breathed hard. Sweat now dripped.
Belgasham looked through window at me. I nodded. Small nod.
He knew I saw handler face. I knew Belgasham saw handler spook.
Guard said, "I'm sorry. He saw kid. He made us."
Belgasham folded napkin precise. Placed it on white table with gold rim. Looked at empty pocket on guard chest.
He said, "Your usefulness expires now."
May you like
I understood. Guard offered to lead to drop handler. Now handler fled because guard couldn't hide recognition. Chain broke. My job behind window done. Next job would be different. No more cafe table.
I stayed behind glass. Gray shirt felt heavier. Overcast light made beige buildings look pale. Black car at curb stayed empty now. No one to take me yet.
