The lanky Frenchman reclined in comfort, surrounded by the peaceful sounds and enticing scents of his well-tended Victorian garden. One of the luxurious sitting-room couches had been wrestled out of its usual place to be brought to this spot among the hedges, flowers, and decorative ferns. The fine piece of furniture would have to be evacuated indoors at the first sign of rain, but for now, under a sky unsullied by even the smallest wisp of cloud, there was no reason to be concerned about that detail.
Reaching behind him to the matching end table that had also made its perilous journey to the garden, Rudy Gobert grabbed a choice slice of baguette, already topped by a generous amount of perfectly runny, perfectly pungent French cheese. It amazed him how all of his senses could be dazzled by such a simple preparation.
The NBA season had not ended happily for his team, but surrounded by such stately decadence, it was quite easy for him to push aside those worries. Certainly, no thoughts of playoff disappointment occupied him as one bite, then another, of the delicious cheese entered his mouth.
“Monsieur Gobert!” came the unnecessarily shrill voice of his diminutive manservant, Remi. Rudy annoyedly sat up from his reclined position to look at the bespectacled man.
“What is it, Remi?”
Remi, looking abashed at the obviously annoyed tone of his master’s voice, looked down at his feet as he spoke. “Sir, I have received return communication from the man, Fournier, who you wished to invite.” He took out a crumpled envelope from his pocket and handed it to Rudy.
Rudy took the envelope with displeasure and flattened it against his leg. “There was no reason for you to fold it up so crudely,” he remarked. “Even the deepest ocean trenches seem like mere divots on the golf course when compared to the staggering depths of your idiocy.” Once the envelope was restored to a somewhat respectable state, Rudy opened it and began to read the enclosed message while Remi stood alongside, looking miserable. There was a period of silence while Rudy read. “It looks as if our dear Mr. Fournier is eager to meet with me,” Rudy finally said as he put the fine stationery back into its envelope. “This is very amusing to me.”
“Why, Monsieur?” Remi asked, his sad expression now tainted with confusion.
Rudy leaned back on his sofa, shooed away a curious peacock that had come over to investigate the bread, then took a piece of the bread for himself. Even the bumbling inadequacy of his servant could not dampen the giddiness that was building inside him. “Evan Fournier must be very self-absorbed indeed to think that he is worthy of holding audience with such a skilled basketball player as myself. When the statistics are examined critically, his unworthiness becomes clear quickly.”
“Forgive me, sir, but I do not understand why this man was invited if he is unworthy to appear in your presence,” Remi asked, his confusion mounting to the point where he was able to address his master directly rather than looking at the grass under his feet.
“Because, Remi,” Rudy began with a cackle. “It is much easier to eliminate Fournier when he willingly walks into the place of his doom. Now please, fetch me a paper and pen so that I may compose my response.”
—
“Monsieur Fournier?” said a prim, suit-wearing man. “A letter has arrived for you from the man Gobert.”
Evan Fournier, sitting poolside in the backyard of his posh Orlando estate, lowered the sunglasses from his eyes. “Thank you, Claude,” he said, taking the envelope from his butler and ripping it open. His eyes scanned quickly across the handwritten words, and when he finished reading, he began to chuckle.
“Does your friend tell jokes?” asked Claude politely.
“No, nothing like that,” Evan answered. “It simply tickles me to think how naive Gobert is to allow me directly into his residence. My ingenious plots to eliminate him from afar will not be necessary after all.”
Claude tilted his head in confusion. “Eliminate him? I’m not sure I understand, sir.”
Evan paused to sip from a small glass of cointreau that was next to his lounge chair. The bitter taste invigorated him from the drowsying effects of the sun. “You must understand, Claude, that while Rudy Gobert is around, my title of ‘Best French Basketball Player’ is disputed. That is not a state of affairs I am content to allow to continue.”
If Claude was startled by this information, he didn’t show it. “Certainly not, sir.”
“Please purchase two plane tickets to France at once,” Evan said, sitting up and swinging his legs off the chair. “I must return to my lab and continue work on my…device. Gobert will be so excited to see it.” With another laugh, he walked back into the manor.