Dark Zone

26

Karr gawked at the sights as he leaned against the rail on the third deck of the Eiffel Tower, a thousand feet above the ground. The sun had only recently started to climb up over the horizon, and it looked to Karr as if he were standing above it as well as the city. He’d actually never been to the tower, and despite the fact that he had traveled around the world, he was impressed.

The fact that Deidre had wrapped her arm around his as the first gust of wind hit them off the stairs didn’t hurt, either.

The American embassy had arranged for a VIP tour for Ms. Clancy and guest before regular hours, and a member of the French Interior Ministry had personally escorted them. There were some advantages to being the “guest” of the daughter of an ambassador, Karr realized — especially if Dad was stationed a country away.

“Isn’t it spectacular?” Deidre asked.

“Blows me away,” said Karr.

“Come on. Be serious.”

“I am.”

She began pointing out the sights. They moved slowly around the platform and then put a few coins in the stationary binoculars.

“Breakfast?” Karr asked after the timer ran out a second time.

“Sounds good.”

She was still holding his arm when they reached the ground. Karr slowed his pace to match hers as they walked down through the park. They had breakfast at an outdoor café a few blocks away, sitting next to one of the outdoor heaters to ward off the lingering chill from the night before. Karr fumbled his French after Deidre ordered; he finally resorted to English. The waiter smirked and disappeared.

“He thinks you’re French,” Karr told her. “And I’m the ugly American.”

“You’re not ugly.”

“Well, thanks. Neither are you.”

“So how long have you been a spy?”

“Who says I’m a spy?”

“What’s it like?”

“Just like the movies,” Karr said. “James Bond, doubleoh-seven. I drive cool cars. Things blow up. Women throw themselves all over me.”

“I’m sure,” she said coolly.

“I’ve been offered my own television series,” he said, trying to make light of his faux pas, “but I’m holding out for a feature film.”

“I wonder who will get to play me,” she shot back.

In the silence that followed that remark his satellite phone started buzzing. He pulled it out and found himself talking to Chris Farlekas, the Art Room supervisor who had spelled Marie Telach.

“Hello, Tommy. We have an update for you on your chemist. Your com system is off.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Can you talk?”

“Oh, I suppose, if I don’t have to say too much.”

“All you have to do is listen.”

Karr glanced at Deidre, who was concentrating on her meal. “Mind if I take this?” he asked.

“Go right ahead.”

Most of what the Frenchman LaFoote had told Karr yesterday had checked out. Vefoures was a chemist and had worked for the government; though they didn’t have any details on his projects, he worked in the areas that would have involved explosives.

“So what didn’t check out?” asked Karr.

“The French government doesn’t have any project going concerning plastic explosives that we can tell. Certainly not the DST. And if they did, they’d use someone else — there are plenty of younger people still working for the government that were involved in this project. He’d been out of it for a while. His last job was for a company in Tours, France, about two years ago. It was contract work. They’re out of business.”

“Maybe it was somebody else.”

“It’s a theory we’re working on,” said Farlekas. “He did contract work here and there. We think you should go to Vefoures’ house, but be careful. Whoever took out Pierce may realize that they missed the man they were gunning for.”

“No sign he’s being followed?”

“We had one of your CIA friends track him last night. Clean so far.”

“Hmmm. He thinks his former employers were involved,” said Karr, choosing his words carefully because of Deidre.

“French intelligence?”

“Yup.”

“Doesn’t make sense that they took out Pierce. They would have gotten LaFoote directly.”

“Unless somebody made a mistake. Or there’s something we don’t know yet.”

“Granted. Can you pick up the chemical sniffer?”

“Already have.”

The sniffer was an electronic device about the size of a tourist guidebook with a long wand attached via a thick cord. The wand could be “tuned” to look for specific chemical compounds with the addition of a memory card and a set of electronic circuits about the size of a Post-it. Somewhat similar though less sophisticated devices were just coming into use at airports where security teams screened luggage for explosives.

“How’s the date going?” added Farlekas.

“Who says I’m on a date?” Karr smiled as Deidre blushed. “But I will say that having breakfast with the most beautiful woman in Paris is a great way to start your day.”