
Financial District, Paris - Headquarters of La Compagnie Rouge
'Thank you, Sanne. Great work. You did a great service to.. to the people of South Laos..' Cyril Dupuis smiled. His teeth were white, maybe a bit too white. The intern he was talking to, a redheaded Dutch girl, was glowing with pride. She had just figured out a way to get a sizable amount of money into Laos, without having to declare it to the French Ministry of Finances. It wasn't entirely legal, but it would save the Organization a lot of money, which would benefit its aid program to impoverished families in Southern Laos.. Or so the redhead thought, at least..
CR - or so people across the globe thought - was second only to the Red Cross when it came to Humanitarian Aid. It maintained a large fleet - of both container ships and freight planes - that was able to ship emergency goods across the planet whenever disaster struck. There were regular lines between most Western European nations and most developing countries.
Cyril, wearing a fifteen thousand dollar suit and even more expensive watch, kept smiling as the intern turned to leave his office. He couldn't help but check out her ass, that looked quite spectacular in the tight little grey skirt the girl was wearing. Maybe after she finished her internship, she needed to be introduced to the.. other side of the Organization. Not now, though. Too risky. Way too risky.
The phone rang. He exchanged a single look with his receptionist - a rather burly man called Théo, who closed the door to his office and put the blinds down, so he could take this call in complete privacy. He knew the line was secure. As secure as it could get. The White House had a phone line that was less protected than his was.
He expected a call from Alain Barrande. Alain Barrande was his second-in-command, but the two of them had not seen eye-to-eye for several months. The reason for that, was that Alain had spent the last five months setting up a new permanent division of CR: The SEA-Division. So far, the return on investment had been spectacular.
The idea on itself had been brilliant. Since Cyril had taken over as CEO, they had managed to expand the little side operation the two of them had been running under the nose of the old CEO. At first, they only did it to bribe specific dictators into allowing humanitarian aid in their country. After all, what did one naive blonde college girl wanting to change the world for the better matter in the grand scheme of things? Then, they had discovered the full potential of their scheme.. There was a high demand in certain parts of the world for cute white girls.. After a while, however, their hunting grounds started to "warm up". After the abduction of Amélie Bélanger, a 19-year old brunette from Marseille they had abducted from her parents home at one warm July night, the Ministry of Justice had roared its ugly head and started a full scale investigation. Maybe because Amélie had turned out to be the daughter of a high-ranking official at that Ministry.
They had to come up with new ideas. And Alain had a brilliant plan. Thousands of girls - from Germany, France, Holland, Britain, Australia, the US - were backpacking through South East Asia every year. Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Myanmar. Corrupt police forces. Weak security at hotels and excursions. Ample opportunities to hide kidnapped girls. Low standards of living - which meant easy recruiting among the local population when sufficient funds were used.
The phone rang again. Ciryl picked it up.
'Alain!' he said cheerfully. 'How are you, my friend?'