(( I leave you people alone a few nights to work the night shift and all manner of nonsense happens! I can't use the irc on my phone, so someone will have to fill me in on all this drama tomorrow night.))
By long habit Jean Patrique O'Dea rose well before the sun. He found it well worth the lost sleep to have a few hours to himself, and as early as his boarding school days the early mornings were the only chance he had. Fortified by exquisite coffee and the occasional quid of coca leaves he found himself with ample energy to run a business empire and lead a very lively social life.
He was therefore quite surprised to find Monique already gone when the familiar chime of the clock roused him. He was downright irritated to find that the welcome scent of coffee came from a now empty pot, prepared automatically every morning to be waiting for him. The little tray by the dumwaiter had a small bundle of papers and a cup smeared with lipstick. The top sheet bore a scribbled note.
Jean,
Thank you for a lovely evening. I am sorry not to say a proper goodbye, but if I do not return the coach before morning they will charge me for a second day. I stole your coffee, but I left you a present. I'll be in touch soon,
-M
Jean smiled slightly. It had[\i] been a lovely night. Thankfully his judgement of Monique seemed right. She wasn't the sort of flighty hysterical girl who presumed a night of fun meant eternal commitment and unwelcome obligation. The presumption in her note was endearing, she didn't leave her address and implore him to call on her. He hoped she would be in touch when he returned from Berlin.
If she had been here, I'd have been tempted to invite her to go with me.[\i] A pity that these fun, casual girls that were such delightful company were the very ones he could not take with him to tedious formal occasions.
He leafed through her 'present'. She wasn't the first girl to leave him a moment, but they weren't usually in writing. A lock of hair or a piece of lingerie were more common. An Italian beauty named Christina had left him a sketch of himself sleeping. She was safely married to the owner of a dozen groceries these days.
Monique's present was unique. They were design schematics, not quite in the usual format used by his draughtsmen but very thorough and accompanied by precise notes. Each page was signed M. Villiers. So that is her last name.[\i]
Unlike his father, Jean did not like to involve himself in the design of his company's products. He hired the best engineers and let them do their jobs without meddling. But be made an effort to understand the basic principles, and he recognized the design as a compression coil. It was designed to quickly fill the cells in the main envelope with the lifting gas. The design seemed sound, and rather straightforward.
He scratched out a cover letter to his chief designer, saying the design was submitted to him by an acquaintance and asking for his judgement of their ability. A rather unorthodox way of applying for a job, but it is certainly effective.[\i]
He rand a bell above his bedside table. His personal servant Benoit, from professional obligation, was an even earlier.riser, and appeared perfectly trim and dressed without loss of more than a moment.
"Put this aboard the morning mail train to Narbonne. And bring me a fresh pot of coffee."
