Chapter 2
Pontious and Morrow
(Ó 2010)
(Ó 2010)
- - - to Paris … in September of 1986.
Captain Reginald Thiebulet and Lt. Jean-Luc Pontious of the French National Police were standing on the second floor running track of the gymnasium that was strictly for the physical training of the police officers. They stood a little further back, so as not to be noticed by the man they were watching. The man they had their eyes on was across the other side of the gymnasium floor where the bench press was located.
“There he is Jean-Luc,” said Captain Thiebulet, a stocky man of average height who was built like a bull. His black and silver hair was combed straight back, and was wearing his signature black suit with white shirt and red tie.
Jean-Luc was taller and more of a medium build with a neatly groomed beard and mustache, and was Captain Thiebulet’s junior by sixteen years. Today he was wearing his navy pinstriped double-breasted suit with a blue shirt and blue tie. He was ready to meet the man that he was now observing from across the room. This was the man that Captain Thiebulet has been informing him of for just about two years time. Thiebulet was in charge of the special unit of the French National Police, which dealt with organized crime and illegal narcotics. Jean-Luc was one of his best officers and next in line to take over for Captain Thiebulet whenever the time would come for the Captain to retire. Jean-Luc was watching the man as he was working out on the bench press, lifting what appeared to be about two hundred fifty pounds and doing ten straight repetitions. He was wearing a full gray cotton sweatshirt, which was drenched in perspiration, along with matching long sweatpants. The man replaced the weights to its stand and kicked his legs up to a sitting position and then jumped up to stand, and then slowly stood up straight.
“My God!” Jean-Luc exclaimed quietly, “Look at the size of him.” He turned to his captain to see a large smile on his face.
It was always the first thing anyone who ever saw Logan Ian Morrow for the first time would notice about him. They just could not help from doing so. Logan was a massive man. He was six feet, one inch tall, and was a lean two hundred thirty five pounds, from what was the result of over twenty-three years of constant demanding physical training. Even with the loose long sleeves of his sweatshirt, you could see how huge his shoulders and biceps were. He had black hair and his skin tone looked somewhat naturally tan. He was pacing around and preparing himself to do another set of repetitions on the bench press. He had the scowl on his face one gets from concentrating during rigorous weight training.
“How old did you say he is?” Jean-Luc asked.
“He’s thirty-five now,” Captain Thiebulet answered.
“Thirty-five! He’s two years younger than I, but he looks …”
“I know, I know Jean-Luc. He has a baby face and looks ten years younger than his age,” Captain Thiebulet said placing his hand on Jean-Lucs shoulder, “I have high expectations for Sergeant Morrow. I believe he is going to be a great attribute to us.”
“He’s fresh out of the academy for three months and a sergeant already?”
“Yes, that was part of the deal. I pulled some strings and played some politics. It’s the least France can do for him, considering he has done her dirty work for seventeen years.”
“Le Legion Etrangere?” Asked Jean-Luc.
“Yes.” Answered Thiebulet, “Just six months ago, he was Sergeant-Chef Logan Morrow of the French Foreign Legion … 2nd R.E.P. in Corsica … highly decorated also. His last campaign with them was Operation Manta in Chad. Come on Jean-Luc, We’re due to meet with him in a couple of hours, I fill you in on everything.”
Both men turned and walked through the door that was behind them to take the stairway down that led to the exit where Captain Thiebulet’s’ car was parked along the street. Both men got into the Captains’ Peugeot and proceeded to drive back to his office at the local headquarters of the French National Police.
“So, you met him a couple of years ago?” Jean-Luc asked.
“Yes, at the Louvre,” the Captain replied, “I was there with my wife, we always spend some spare time there. We saw him there twice, and we saw how he would look intently at the artworks there for long periods. The first time we saw him was at the Rembrandt exhibition, sitting and gazing not just at … but as if he were gazing into the masterpieces.”
“I can understand that,” Jean-Luc said, recalling his own visits to the Louvre.
“The next week she and I were there again,” the Captain continued, “right after the museum opened. We saw him in the room with the Carlos de Beistigui collection, and an hour later he was in the Grand Galerie, in the section that houses the Italian collection of paintings from the 16th and 17th centuries.”
“He appreciates fine art, I like him already,” Jean-Luc commented.
“Mrs. Theibulet and I, well, are attention went from the exhibits to him, and the way he was looking at each painting,” continued the Captain, “he would stand in front of each one and stare right into it, as if he were trying to absorb something from it, and you couldn’t help but noticing him, as you said Jean-Luc, about his size. But he was in his uniform also, slowly taking his steps, and standing tall in front of each artwork.”
Soon the Captain then pulled his car to his reserved space in front on the headquarters for the French National Police. Both men exited the car and quickly entered the building, then proceeded to the elevators. Jean-Luc pressed the button for the floor where the Captains’ office was. In a few seconds, the doors opened and both men entered, they were the only occupants inside, when the doors shut, Captain Thiebulet continued his story.
“Well, then where was I? Oh yes, anyway we both made our way towards Logan, and we both stood right behind him. So, I asked while I was standing behind him, ‘So, you appreciate fine paintings Sergeant-Chef?’, and he turned to face us both. When he saw my wife, he immediately removed his beret. That made an impression on her; she loves proper manners you know.”
Jean-Luc nodded “yes” in agreement.
“He then told me ‘Yes, yes sir I do.’ He extended his hand to me and introduced himself, ‘Sergeant-Major Logan I. Morrow sir, 2nd R.E.P.,’ and I introduced Mrs. Thiebulet and myself. Logan then said that he couldn’t tell what was more beautiful sometimes, the artwork … or the Lourve itself.”
“He makes quite a good first impression,” said Jean-Luc.
The elevator doors then opened and they exited and turned left down the corridor to the Captains office. There his secretary, Zoë, a pretty woman in her thirties with black hair and green eyes, greeted him and gave him his messages. He looked at his wristwatch and then said to Zoë, “I’m expecting Sergeant Morrow in a little over an hour and a half, when he arrives take messages on my calls.”
“Oui Captain,” she said, “can I get you anything before he arrives?”
“No thank you, anything for you Jean-Luc?’
“No, no thank you very much.”
Both men then entered the Captains office. It was a masculine looking room with wood paneling, bookshelves, and photographs and commendations on the wall. The Captain took his place at his desk, and Jean-Luc sat in the chair beside it.
“Well to end the story,” the Captain said, “I asked him when he started to appreciate the fine arts, and his answer made quite an impression on both Mrs. Thiebulet and I.”
“And what was that?” asked Jean-Luc.
“He said, ’Sir, when you’ve been where I’ve been, seen what I’ve seen, and have had to do what I’ve done, and as for long as I have, well then, you begin to develop a hunger for beauty, so when I’m in Paris, I always come here.’ Next thing I know, Mrs. Thiebulet invited him to join us for lunch.”
Jean-Luc let out a little laugh when he heard that.
“While at lunch, I asked him of his plans after the Legion, he told me he was staying with them for a couple more years, he felt he owed them some extra time from a couple of occasions where he was wounded. Nevertheless, that he was going to take the French citizenship and passport, and stay in France. He has no family left where he is from so …”
“Excuse me for interrupting sir, but where exactly is he from?” Jean-Luc asked.
“He’s an American by birth.” answered the Captain.
“Where in America?”
“I believe he mentioned a state in the middle of the country … yes … South Dakota … that’s it.”
“So, like in the westerns? You know … cowboys and Indians? John Wayne?” Jean-Luc asked holding his hand up like a six-shooter and pumping his thumb up and down.
“Yes partner,” the Captain said, making a motion as if he was tipping a ten-gallon hat. “I asked him if he would be interested in police work, and he said that could be a possibility. Therefore, I gave him my card and told him to stay in touch, and we did practically every month of his final year in the Legion. That lead up to his going to the academy right after his discharge, and so now here we are. However, he will be here soon, come over on this side of the desk, and we’ll go over his record. I want you to know as much as you can before the interview.”
So, both men for the next hour and a quarter looked into the record of Sergeant-Chef Logan I. Morrow of the French Foreign Legion. His exploits when he served in Chad, Beirut, the jungles of French Guiana, the Central African Republic, with the 2nd R.E.P. in Corsica and their mission to save the Europeans and French citizens in Zaire in 1978, his decorations, his training, and ending it with his service during Operation Manta in Chad again, just the year before.
Then on to his record at the academy of the French National Police, graduating the top of his class, he was now serving in uniform learning basic police procedures, and to help him become more familiar with the city of Paris. However, according to Captain Thiebulet, it was all just a formality until their meeting this morning. Zoë then buzzed the Captain on the intercom and let him know that Logan had arrived.
“Yes, thank you Zoë, send him right in.” Captain Thiebulet and Jean-Luc both stood up to greet Logan as he entered the office. He looked quite different than he did just a little under two hours before. He was wearing a navy blazer and gray slacks, a gray dress shirt with dark blue silk tie. However, his size was still very noticeable, especially to Zoë as he walked past her.
“Come … come in Logan. Good to see you,” the Captain said shaking Logan’s’ hand, “I want you to meet Lt. Jean-Luc Pontious, he’s second in command here in Organized Crime and Narcotics.”
“Very pleased to meet you sir.” Logan said and shook Jean-Luc’s hand. Jean-Luc noticed that Logan had a firm handshake, but he controlled the pressure of his grip, as to not hurt his hand, and the way Logan spoke, it was a calm and quiet tone, his all around demeanor was one of calm composure. Nothing he expected from the warrior he just read about.
“A pleasure to meet you also Sergeant,” Jean-Luc said, “Let’s all sit down shall we?”
All men sat down, and Captain Thiebulet started, “So, Logan how is your transition going?”
“Transition?” asked Jean-Luc.
“Yes, Logan’s transition from military life to that of one of a civilian,” answered the Captain.
“It’s coming along … slowly … but still coming along,” Logan said, “it’s the old regimentation that still is hard to change, but I’m blending in.”
Jean-Luc was a little amazed at the gentle demeanor of this huge man, who seemed like he would never hurt anything in his life.
“So, Logan I’m going to put our little plan into action as you might say. Now, many people in this department will question why you are going right into Organized Crime and Narcotics. It is the most dangerous of all police work. Tell me and Lt. Pontious here why you believe we’re not making a mistake, for there is some concern of your starting right away with us, because with most uniform officers, well it takes a few years to get to your position. Unfortunately, you have to help to justify your unique situation here.”
Logan cleared his throat and looked right at Jean-Luc, and spoke in his gentle manner, speaking each word and sentence clearly, “Well, sir, I am not only combat trained, I am combat experienced. I am an expert in all types of warfare, jungle, desert, or urban. I am an expert in surveillance and reconnaissance. I am also an expert in stealth combat and warfare. I know weapons systems inside and out and am trained in all firearms, as well as blades, hand-to-hand combat, even bows and arrows, plus I am an expert sniper. Any team, or partner, that I will be assigned to will have the full confidence in knowing that their back will always be covered. I am a loving and loyal friend, but a feared, though respected, enemy.”
Jean-Luc raised his eyebrows a little and turned to see the Captain smiling at him once again.
“To add a little icing to the cake,” Logan continued, “I am also fluent in seven languages; French, English, Spanish, Italian, Russian, German and Arabic.”
Jean-Luc had a subdued, yet amazed expression on his face. “Impressive,” he said, “very impressive.”
There was a brief period of silence, and then the Captain turned to Jean-Luc and asked, “So, what is your opinion then?”
Jean-Luc began to have a smile on his face, and then said, “Well Captain, I believe this meeting is going to be very brief. I believe that he is worth your risk, and I’m willing to take him on.”
“Excellent then!” the Captain exclaimed, “Logan, you’ll be starting immediately and you will be working directly with Lt. Pontious and his partner. I say that you both get acquainted now.”
“Yes sir.” Said Logan.
“Jean-Luc, take him to your office and start to show Logan the flowcharts and give the histories of all suspects on them and bring him up to date with all investigations.”
“Yes Captain.”
“Now Logan, remember, I went out on a far limb for this. I have much faith in you and your abilities. I believe you will be a great asset to this division. Nevertheless, you will be on probation like any other officer in their first year. Lt. Pontius is one of our best, and he’s agreed to the risk also, we are depending on you.”
“I won’t fail you sir,” Logan said, still in his quiet but assured way, “shall we go then Lieutenant sir?”
All three men stood and shook hands; Captain Thiebulet seemed very pleased with what was occurring. Logan and Jean-Luc then left his office, and as the left, Zoë followed Logan with her eyes as he past. Once in the hallway Jean-Luc said, “My office is down below in the subterranean part of the building”
“Do you like coffee sir?” Logan asked.
“Why yes, yes I do.”
“That little place around the corner has great coffee, let me buy you a cup; I haven’t had mine yet this morning.”
“Sure, yes, that sounds nice, I would love some.”
Logan and Jean-Luc left the building and stepped outside to the street and to all the noontime chatter of the people coming and going from all directions. They turned and preceded down the street to where a small coffee house was located, they sat at on of the tables out on the sidewalk. The waiter quickly came and he seemed to recognize Logan. Logan had Jean-Luc order first, since he was his guest, Jean-Luc ordered a coffee with a croissant; While Logan ordered the same, only his with black bread with butter.
“I grew a taste for that over the years,” he said, “it was the breakfast of norm in the Legion.”
“I’m curious about a couple of things Sergeant Morrow,” Jean-Luc began his conversation.
“Please, sir, call me Logan.”
“OK … Logan,” Jean-Luc said, “as a matter of fact, let us start off by dropping the formalities, most of the men in my team prefer it. You may then call me Jean-Luc, but, to keep the higher ranks happy, we will refer each other by rank and proper courtesies while in their company, agreed?”
“Yes sir,” Logan started, and then corrected himself, “I mean … Jean-Luc.”
“We deal in the most dangerous line of police work, and it helps with the bond of the team under me,” Jean-Luc briefly explained.
“I understand.”
The waiter came with the coffee, croissant and black bread. Both men put cream and sugar in there coffee and Logan said, “I use to drink this black all the time. We really didn’t have the luxury of cream or sugar in most of the places I was serving at.”
Logan then mixed the cream and sugar, buttered the black bread and said, “Didn’t have the luxury of butter also, I’ve been sort of spoiling myself since my discharge. I have to do extra physical training though to not reap the benefits of my new vices.”
“Yes, that I can understand.” Jean-Luc said with a laugh.
“So … Jean-Luc,” Logan began, “What are you curious about?”
“First, the six other languages you’re fluent in, I can basically figure out the local European dialects. How did you come about learning Arabic?”
“Oh, when I first entered into the Legion, I was at Fort de Nogent and of course the first job I was assigned to was scrubbing the pots in the mess hall scullery,” Logan began, “there I met this Arab man named Mahmood, He was from Saudi Arabia. He was here, in Paris, with his superiors. I believe Mahmood was just one-step above being a slave in the Arabic world; they preferred to call him a ‘servant.’ While here, he slipped away from his ‘masters’, for lack of a better word, and made his way to Fort de Nogent a few days before I did. He and I were the same age and we were both a little scared and nervous. He spoke some English, so I could communicate a little with him. I was already somewhat fluent in French, because I learned how to speak it in high school back in the States. As you know, you must speak French in the Legion, and the instructors have their own special way to motivate you if you don’t learn at their pace. We were in the same barracks and our superiors there knew I could already communicate in French, so they assigned Mahmood to me to tutor him in the language. Therefore, he and I made a little deal to help break up the monotony of our basic training. I would teach him French and English, in exchange he would teach me Arabic.”
“That’s very remarkable.” Jean-Luc said with an expression of approval.
“That’s basically how I learned all the other languages,” Logan continued, “Legionnaires believe that we are not to look at each of our differences, we are all equal and are all brothers, and it is to our advantage to learn from our diversities.”
“Society in general could learn from that.” Jean-Luc said, nodding in agreement.
“It became useful right away, learning the Arabic I mean,” Logan added, “Mahmood and I were at Fort de Nogent just for a few days, we were both sent to Aubagne together for our basic training. Then the first place that we spent our first duty at was in Chad in 1970. There I really learned the language and the writing. I came to almost master it there.”
“Chad in 1970,” asked Jean-Luc, “Didn’t take long for you to see some military action did it?”
“No it didn’t,” Logan asked as he took a sip of his coffee. “What was the other thing you wanted to know?”
“Well, I can’t help but to notice your physic,” Jean-Luc said, making a gesture of a muscle flex, “were you ever involved in organized sports?”
“Yes, I played a little rugby, but I mostly like to play soccer.”
“Soccer?” Jean-Luc asked, with his eyebrows raised, “ Football? You play football? What position?”
“I play mostly at goaltender.”
“Really? Because the other boys in our unit have a team.” Jean-Luc said with some enthusiasm, “Mostly interdepartmental games and such, if you would be interested we are getting together this Saturday for a practice.”
Logan recognized the facial expression on Jean-Luc; he has always seen it on men who are soccer enthusiasts. The raised eyebrows and the semi excited sound in the tone of their voices. Jean-Luc is a soccer fanatic; it did not take much on Jean-Luc’s part to let Logan know that he was a soccer fanatic. “Well, I haven’t had the chance to play in some while but sure, yes, I’d like to try out for you. What time and where should I meet you all of you?”
“Fine then, do you know where the pitch is by the …” - - -
- - - the radio alarm went off from his bedroom. The familiar voices from Dean Watson and Reba with their morning show on Chicago Talk Radio were informing the city of Chicago that it was now 5:30 in the morning. He came out of his train of thought and realized that he’s been sitting in the same position in his chair since he woke earlier. He didn’t even notice that it was getting light outside, so he then got out of the chair to turn the radio off. Before he did, he stopped to look at the picture by the candle, he looked into the eyes of the woman staring back up at him, and he let out a sigh as he said. “Morning Lil Girl.”
He then went to prepare for his workday.
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