The envelope was plain, cream-colored, sealed with red wax, and lacking any insignia that might make it stand out in the Ministry's corridors.
It looked like a requisition memo, or maybe a retirement notice.
Moreau slit it open with his penknife and read it carefully.
Authorization confirmed.
Pilot Armored-Motorized Division – sanctioned under General Beauchamp's authority.
Discretion advised.
Budget: modest.
Public disclosure: none.
Personnel and equipment requests to be routed through the Ministry.
He placed the letter on his desk and leaned back.
"This is the easy part," he muttered.
That Afternoon in de Gaulle's Apartment. De Gaulle answered the door with his sleeves rolled and ink on his cuffs.
His desk was littered with books and diagrams.
A pot of black coffee steamed on the windowsill.
"You got it?" he asked without preamble.
Moreau held up the folded document. "We're official. Well, barely."
De Gaulle gestured him in. "Then let's begin."
