The thrumming of wheels on tracks threatened to lull him to sleep, but he fought to stay awake. Three planes, two cabs, one stolen bicycle, and he was finally on the train, an hour away from Toulon. He laughed a groggy laugh, to think that a submission to be on ‘The Apprentice’ had led to so much trouble, so much drama, even a house fire.

“Allo?” came a sweet voice, “J’ai perdu ma veste. C’est rouge, une de la ligne ‘Awesomeness’ americaine.” But he could only shrug and try to hide his pleasure at hearing the name. She left, as everyone had, after the fire.

But he still had his files, his precious files. He’d need them. Then again with the 9 million in the briefcase between his knees, he wouldn’t need for much.

Maybe in Toulon they wouldn’t have heard of his medicine. Perhaps they wouldn’t know he’d saved so many lives at the price of his own. But it didn’t matter, he bought his privacy, his sollace, a green chateau on the coast.

Hitting play on his MP3 he sighed, “Ah, Freddy, gone too soon.”