The agent they gave him to work with on this job had to be new. She was obviously nervous. He didn't know if it was the locale or him, or the ploy they were using, but it might have amused John another time. Now, with the city of Paris humming with an undercurrent of unhappiness and rife with tension, it just made him vaguely annoyed. The cafe they were in was like the hundreds of other cafes around the city except this was the cafe where they were supposed to 'meet' with on Jean Reinard. The CIA's Paris mole had been placed there for some time, and with the recent movement in the city for Algerian freedom, he'd contacted the agency to pass on some information.
The job should be easy. Come into the city as a honeymooning couple, enjoy a day at the cafe, swap newspapers with the local Reinard, then spend the next two days of the CIA- bank-rolled holiday touring the Eiffel Tower, walking the Seine, and paying at least one visit to the city's famous pastry shops.
Of course, when jobs were supposed to be easy, they never were. John glanced idly at his watch as he took another sip of his cafe, leaning forward to link his hand with his 'newly wed wife's'. "I've been to Paris before, on holiday." This was true enough, as John had come as a boy with his parents. He smiled over at her, then leaned across the table as if in a gesture of affection, his cheek brushing her's as he spoke softly into her ear. "Reinard is late. We give him fifteen more minutes, then we contact home."
A missing contact would be a bad thing, especially in the current political situation. John sat back, keeping a hold of Delia's hand. "I think after this, I ought to take you shopping. Something from Paris, to bring home and show off to all your friends?"