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At six a.m., the st
aff baker brought him croissants fresh from the oven, as light as any pastry Bell had ever eaten. With it was orange marmalade that was the perfect balance of tart and sweet. He ate a proper breakfast at seven in the dining room, peopled at that hour with the most industrious of businessmen and intrepid of tourists.
At seven-thirty, he closed himself off in one of the telephone booths just off the lobby and rang Henri Favreau.
“You had a busy night, oui?” the Frenchman said when Bell identified himself.
“Not sure what you’re talking about,” Bell replied coyly.
“One man fell to his death in the Métro, chasing another man who had just shot his way out of a moving train, and the body of a different man was found in a sewer.”
Bell asked, “Has this made the papers?”
“Not yet,” Favreau told him. “Les Gendarmes are saying nothing of these gruesome finds until they know if there’s a connection. Neither man carried identification but they were of a similar type.”
“Yes. Société des Mines guards who both deserve posthumous Employee of the Month awards. I am concerned Gly will get wind of this and alter his plans. I have a location where he’s going to be sometime after ten-thirty.”
“Gly?”
“Foster Gly. He’s the lead thug for the Société. I need to get word to one of the men he’s escorting this morning.”
He could hear the sizzle of Henri’s putting match to cigarette and him drawing deeply on the first of fifty he’d smoke that day. “Rest assured, my friend, since I have not heard of this man, he is not tall enough on the ladder to know what I know. Ach, high enough. Not high enough on the ladder. He will read about these deaths in this afternoon’s papers just like the rest of the city.”
Bell felt reassured by Favreau’s reasoning. “Okay. I can buy that. What do you know of an outfit called A. C. Bourgault?”
“They are a large chandlering company. They’re based here in Paris, but they operate large warehouses in all the major French ports.”
“Do they just provision ships?”
“Mostly, but they’ve been known to provide foodstuffs and other items to scientific expeditions as well as for wealthy people who want to go on safari. A bit like your Abercrombie & Fitch, but not quite so luxurious.”
“That makes sense,” Bell said absently. “They’d want the finest hard-rock-mining gear Colorado had to offer, but other provisions could come from France. I bet Brewster and Hall are heading to Bourgault’s office for some taste-testing.”
“Who are Brewster and Hall?”
“Sorry, Henri, I’m tired and talking to myself. They’re two Americans I need to warn about the true nature of the Société des Mines de Lorraine.”
“Ah.”
Bell asked, “Can anyone just show up at Bourgault’s offices?”
“I believe you need an appointment. I can perhaps help. I know a few people in the shipping industry. Someone should be able to get you in as a ship broker of some kind.”
“No, the men will be with the expedition side of the business, not the guys who buy groceries for freighters. Get me in as a Serbian naturalist looking to buy provisions for a trip into the Sahara.”
“Why such a ridiculous cover?”
“It’s the exact opposite of who Gly would suspect.”
“Gly, the lead thug?”
“He’s seen me briefly from a distance, so I don’t want him in Bourgault’s chancing upon an American looking to go to the Arctic. I don’t want him hearing my Americanized French, and it’s likely someone in the office speaks German, so I can’t pretend I’m from Germany. Serbia is an obscure enough part of the Austrian Empire that few outsiders speak their language. I figure I can fake speaking English with a Serb accent and no one will be the wiser.”
“D’accord. I see again why you are so good at what you do. I will make this happen. Name?”
“Ah, Dr. Aleksandar Dragovic.”
“I will get you an eleven o’clock meeting to discuss provisioning a five-man team for two weeks in the desert with native guides who will fend for themselves.” Favreau paused for effect. “It will cost you one favor in the future with no questions asked.”
