4 4. The escargot conspiracy.

'Forty percent alcohol.'

I gulped as I read the label of the very dear cognac that the flamboyant aristocrat Marcel de Villeneuve poured to me. How would I react to this beverage? While I am an expert at drinking hard liquors, I had not studied the adjectives associated with pricey cognacs. Thus, I was sweating from this challenge that lay ahead of me.

"Please tell me what you think about the flavour, Mr Pond." The eloquent Marcel asked with his prominent French accent.

I took a sip of the cognac, and I let it rest on my tongue for a while hoping for a suitable adjective to come up. My first thought was mouthwash, as the drink tasted rancid. Nothing else came to mind except for grapey and alcohol. I needed to come up with something so I could infiltrate the French aristocracy and unravel their plans to kill the Australian ambassador in Paris.

"I am sorry, but I haven't primed my palate for cognac. We don't drink much cognac in Australia." I admitted.

I took a deep breath. Would my reply reveal that I wasn't a third-generation aristocrat, condemned to live among the uncultured Australians?

Marcel smiled at me and replied: "That's okay, Mr Pond. I was worried that you were a spy, so I poured cheap supermarket brandy into a bottle of fine cognac. A proper spy would have remembered the taste notes for Jules Robin Vintage Cognac and tried to flatter me for its exquisite taste."

I smiled. While I felt hurt from Marcel's implication that I wasn't a very good agent, I had passed his initiation test, and thus disproved his claim.

"Perhaps now is the time to discuss how I can improve my fortune?" I suggested.

Hearing this, Marcel opened a drawer in his desk and brought out an old parchment, a feather, and a vial of ink. "Please write your name and your password at the bottom of the page." Marcel said.

I grabbed the feather and wrote: 'Jared Pond / l'escargot'.

Marcel smile, nodded, and pulled a fake book from a bookcase. This revealed a secret passageway to the basement below. I followed Marcel downstairs and I hoped to find a secret sex club filled with beautiful women. It was time for Jared Pond, the greatest agent Australia had ever seen, to shine.

Much to my dismay, there was no such thing. Instead, it was a small room where a few nobles wearing 18th-century outfits were drinking wine, playing cards, and eating frogs.

Marcel spoke to his co-conspirators. "L'escargot est arrivé. Voici le célèbre assassin Jared Pond. (The Snail has arrived. Behold the famous assassin, Jared Pond)"

I smiled and reflected over the oxymoron in calling me a famous assassin. If I was famous for killing people, why hadn't the authorities arrested me?

Another nobleman spoke: "Monsieur Pond. We need you to poison the Australian ambassador Jack Grant."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"Why do you want to know?" Marcel asked.

"It's a hobby of mine to keep track of why I murder people. It gives meaning to the monotony." I replied.

"Putain Australien. (Fucking Australian)" Marcel mumbled, looked at the other nobleman, and spoke: "Phillippe. Please tell Monsieur Pond why Jack Grant needs to die.

Phillippe nodded and replied. "Jack Grant want to convince your prime minister Scurry Morrisette to remove the Australian tariffs on Cognac. But we don't want to share our fine vintages with you uncouth barbarians. So, Jack must die."

'So close.' I thought and worked hard to keep a serious and assassin-like face. "When and how would you like me to kill Jack Grant? I have different pricings for different methods." I stated

"Kill him on Armistice Day, on the 11th of November 2018. Use a poisoned kangaroo pie as the weapon." Phillippe instructed.

"That can be arranged. My fee is $500,000. Pay half in advance into a cryptocurrency account." I replied.

Hearing my price, Phillippe turned to Marcel and spoke. "C'est trop cher, nous devrions choisir un assassin Russe à la place. (That's too expensive, we should pick a Russian assassin instead.)"

"Aucun prix n'est trop élevé pour sauver notre cognac des Australiens! (No price is too high when it comes to saving our cognac from the Australians!)"

Marcel turned to me and spoke. "We agree to your terms. Now please leave. We cannot enjoy our classical music and our fine cognac in your presence."

I got up and left the room.

***

"Jared Pond you are my hero. I cannot believe that a conspiracy wanted to murder me for removing the tariffs on French cognac." Ambassador Jack Grant said and smiled at me as we met in the Australian embassy in Paris.

"In the world we live in, no good deed goes unpunished. But at least we caught the conspirators in time." I replied.

"Yes. God bless you, and God bless Australia." Jack said.

"I am not a man of God. I am a man of the world." I stated.

Jack smiled and took out a bottle of Jules Robin Vintage Cognac and offered me a glass. I recalled the rancid taste of the beverage from my meeting with Marcel, so I used a white lie to get out of my predicament. "I am sorry, Ambassador Grant, but I don't drink while I am on duty."

"Well, suit yourself." Ambassador Grant replied, poured himself a glass, and had a few sips.

I had an epiphany, Jules Robin Vintage Cognac retailed at $21000 a bottle, so how could the ambassador afford it? "Hmm, Ambassador Grant, where did you get that bottle?" I asked.

"Marcel Villeneuve gave it to me last Christmas, I have been saving it for a celebration because it is so expensive." Jack replied.

I realised that If Marcel had gifted Jack Grant the bottle, there was most likely poison in it. The reason the Escargot Conspiracy had hired me to kill Jack must have been because he had saved the bottle instead of drinking it. As Jack Grant collapsed to the floor, I knew that my deduction was correct. I had failed my mission and the ambassador was dead. On the flip side, my choice to stay sober while on the job had saved my life.

The end.