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Maurice stays quiet.
Jeremy says, “Amy…”
“Jeremy, with all due respect and affection, shut your trap.” I take a smooth breath and help the DGSE guy to his feet. “We’re on the trail of a man who has sworn to kill thousands of innocents in my nation’s largest city, and I’m not going to sit on my ass while you match favors with British intelligence. Do you understand?”
“A bit,” Maurice says. “But it is still not a compelling argument.”
“Maybe not,” I say, “but try this. You owe me.”
He nearly sputters at that. “Owe you! Are you mad? One of my men is in the hospital with a concussion, due to you striking him back at that runway. How can Ioweyou?”
“Because there’s another man of yours in the hospital, Victor Martin. Still alive, I hope?”
The Frenchman just nods. “How do you know of Victor?”
“Because I’m the one who saved him,” I say. “Tied off his left leg with a couple of straps after a good chunk of it was blown off this morning.”
He turns to the woman and says,“C’est vrai, ça?”
A one-word answer.“Oui.”
He turns back to me, nods once more. “I was not aware of those circumstances. You have my thanks. But still…”
Sensing that I’m making progress, I say, “And if we’re keeping score, I also prevented one of your men from assassinating an MI6 officer invited on your soil. How would you like explainingthatto your British friend? This would-be assassin, Carlos—a jihadist?”
Maurice purses his lips. “Only because he was so heavily in debt, as we’ve recently learned. His…actions were mercenary in nature, not religious.”
“Well, my actions aren’t mercenary, nor religious.”
I thumb the side button on the semiautomatic pistol and the magazine drops out. I work the slide and the 9mm round in the chamber flies out and tinkles to the floor.
I toss the pistol on the metal desk with a loudthump.It seems everyone in the small room is shocked.
Including me.
“I’ve got a mission ahead of me, and I need to work with Jeremy to get it done. My nation’s largest city is at risk. If Paris was facing a similar risk, I think you’d do the same thing I’m doing.”
The slightest of smiles. “Which is?”
“Which is raising hell and not listening to supervisors when there’s no time to argue or debate.”
It gets quiet in the room, even though the disarmed DGSE man is staring at me with such hate that I’m sure sound frequencies somewhere are being disturbed.
“Bon,” Maurice says. He reaches over and picks up the two paper sacks with our respective weapons, putting them on the edge of the table. “You are correct, Amy. Idoowe you: for saving Victor, and for preventing the assassination of our mutual friend Jeremy. Get going, and get your job done. For you and for us.”
I reflexively glance at my watch. “I think we’re going to miss the next Eurostar.”
Now Maurice is smiling wider, a hand going to the telephone at his elbow. “No, you won’t.Bonne chance.”
I step forward to get our weapons.“Merci,”I say.“Nous allons en avoir besoin.”
Yeah, I think, we are certainly going to need it.
More than two hours later, we’re less than thirty minutes from arriving at StPancras Station in London. I’ve scored both a good nap and a fine meal, and now I regard Jeremy from our facing seats in Business Premier. On occasion wealthy and well-dressed businessmen and women have strolled past us, sniffing their noses, looking at our wrinkled clothes and unwashed hands and faces. The playground-age Amy inside me wants to snap out,Give us a break, we’re trying to save thousands of innocents like you.But I keep my mouth shut.
Instead I say to Jeremy, “What do we do when we arrive at StPancras?”
Outside, the rural landscape of this part of England starts to appear more crowded with buildings, paved roads, and highways.
