Planned Chance



  Planned Chance

  R.R. Webb

  Thank you to all the women in my life, from my wife Kat, to my beautiful daughters Tonya and Cindy, my granddaughters Lilly and Bella, and my dogs Missy and Athena. Least I forget the only male I have in my household, my dog Sam.

  Planned Chance

  R.R. Webb

  Copyright 2011 by R.R. Webb

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  It had been a long and grueling flight for Tom, who despised flying in the first place. What bothered him was the lack of control he would have if something catastrophic were to happen, not an actual fear of heights. Not that he was a control freak, well maybe he was with his own life.

  He stepped from the plane and gazed at the dark sky, pausing to breathe deeply, while taking in the hot night air of Paris. The moist air enveloped him, almost as a warm cozy blanket would on a cold winter’s night. Walking down the stairs of the airport ladder truck that had already been positioned in place, he found the night innocent and comforting as he embarked on a new journey; one that would take him to the memories and actions of his past and would define his future.

  He started the obligatory route through the airport terminal, stopping off to be searched by the customs agents. He always felt like a prisoner with all the invasive prodding and questioning. He was amazed that the people in that line of work showed little personality; not that he could blame them, after all, it was a thankless job. He eventually made his way over to the luggage pickup area of the terminal and retrieved two worn black-leather suitcases that he had owned for many years, and although he did not travel a great deal, when he did, these two articles were his most trusted companions.

  Even though it was late at night in Paris, the airport was still bustling with people, mostly tourists who were always easy to spot. He didn’t really understand why, in this age of terrorism, that most tourists made it clear that they were visitors from other countries. They might as well have painted a bull’s-eye on the front of their shirts. People had come to see the fabled city, and were fascinated by the mystique of France that was portrayed with romanticism in countless movies.

  He walked out the automatic doors at the exit of the airport and once again was in the warm air of Paris. He took a moment to enjoy his newfound freedom, before a well-dressed gentleman approached him and politely inquired, “Monsieur, can I get you a taxi?”

  “Please,” he replied, wanting to impress the local man by answering in what little French he had learned in his life.

  He completely forgot the proper response; he thought it best to stick with his trusted grasp of the English language. In an obvious preplanned and daily ritual, the Frenchman raised his left hand and put three fingers up in the air, as if he were signaling to an invisible partner. Immediately; one of the waiting taxis, which was parked on the curb opposite the airport terminal, accelerated quickly towards where Tom and the man were standing, and before he realized it, the door to the taxi was open and now waiting on him. He was never a patient man so he found it refreshing at the speed at which the whole process took place. A well-oiled machine, he thought. Wanting to show his appreciation for the man’s promptness, he took his own bags to the rear of the taxi and placed them in the trunk, as opposed to the driver stepping out and securing the luggage.

  The taxi was an unusually clean and newer model vehicle, at least compared to the usually damp and smelly ones that propagate America. It was a welcome change to sit on the seats of a taxi, without worrying about staining your clothes. The driver was a middle-aged man, who seemed to be happy with life, evident by his constant smile and free spirit.

  “Where to Monsieur?” The driver asked in English.

  “The hotel closest to the Eiffel Tower,” Tom said, already making up his mind to use English from that point forward. “But take your time I want to enjoy the night lights of this beautiful city.”

  He peered out the window at the lights, near and far, glistening off every luminous surface in view allowing a glimpse of the romantic magic and mystique of the city. He watched the lights until he drifted away in thought back to the circumstances that had brought him to this moment in his life and before long the glowing and reflecting lights all around him disappeared; he was focused only on his thoughts.