Polar Quest

54

After his release from the hospital, Kilkenny caught the first flight to Paris. He’d been in regular contact with Tao as she collected the reconnaissance information needed for their next move. His plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport late in the afternoon. All he brought with him was a carry-on bag and his briefcase, so he reached customs well ahead of his fellow travelers. The passport Tao had arranged for him looked as if he had used it for years, and the customs official gave it a cursory glance before adding another stamp and handing it back to him.

Once he cleared the security checkpoint and entered the main terminal, Kilkenny walked about casually as he looked for any sign of surveillance. He browsed in a few shops, went to the rest room, and bought a newspaper. After twenty minutes and no indication that he was being followed, Kilkenny began moving toward the ground transportation exit.

As the automatic doors swung open and Kilkenny walked outside, he heard the distinctive wail of a European police siren. The sound grew louder and Kilkenny looked around for the source. He spotted a black police van racing up the access road toward the terminal, closely followed by a gray sedan. The van pulled up to the curb, its doors flew open, and five men dressed in black assault uniforms stormed out. Kilkenny stepped out of the direct line between the men and the terminal doors. The men broke into two groups — three to one side of Kilkenny and two on the other. Then Duroc stepped out of the sedan.

‘I want him alive, if possible,’ Duroc announced.

Kilkenny swung his carry-on bag and hurtled it into the pair to his left. It struck one of the men in the head and sent him stumbling back to regain his balance. He dropped his briefcase and took up a defensive posture. Another man moved in and Kilkenny thrust his open hand like a spear into his throat. The strike hit so hard, Kilkenny’s fingertips felt the vertebrae. The man’s eyes bulged out and he began choking. Kilkenny pushed him into his comrades, then turned to deal with the two men behind him.

Focusing on one of the men, Kilkenny threw a pair of kicks in rapid succession — one to the groin, one to the head — and sent the man sprawling back onto the sidewalk. The other man held his ground and Kilkenny closed the distance, quickly trying to find an angle of attack while escaping the pincher he was in. The man countered his move, then Kilkenny caught him taking a brief look beyond him.

Kilkenny spun around just as a third man bore down with a nightstick. Kilkenny deflected the blow with a sweep of his left arm, grabbed the wooden stick just above his attacker’s hands, and twisted it backward. The tip smashed into the man’s nose, turning it into a bloody pulp and knocking several of his teeth onto the sidewalk.

A stream of pungent liquid struck Kilkenny in the face. Almost immediately, the sidewalk spun out from beneath his feet. Kilkenny’s head pounded and everything was turning wildly, like he was inside a barrel rolling down a steep mountainside. He dropped onto the pavement, unconscious. Duroc’s two remaining men bound Kilkenny, then loaded him into the van.

‘Take him to the garage,’ Duroc ordered. He looked disapprovingly at the three men Kilkenny had beaten, only one of whom was still conscious. ‘And drop them off at our doctor.’