scrambler, he dialed Fred Klein, waiting as the call bounced off innumerable relays around the world to finally be picked up wherever Fred was.
“So?” Fred Klein said.
“They've kidnapped Theacute;regrave;se Chambord.”
“I just got the news. One of her neighbors saw quite a bit of it, including some crazy man who tried to stop the kidnapping. The French police relayed the information. Fortunately, the neighbor didn't get a good look at the man's face.”
“Fortunately,” Smith agreed dryly.
“The police have no clue who the kidnappers are, or why, and it's got them mighty unhappy. Why kill Chambord but only kidnap his daughter? If the bombers have full data for the molecular computer, why kidnap her at all? Was she taken by the same people who blew up the Pasteur and killed Chambord, or by other people entirely? Are there two groups involvedone that has the data and another that wants it, so they've snatched Mile. Chambord in the hope she has something to tell them?”
“That's an unpleasant thought. A second group. Damn.”
“Hope I'm wrong.” Klein sounded frustrated.
“Yeah. Swell. But we've got to keep it in mind. What about the police report about me and Theacute;regrave;se Chambord? Do I need to take a new cover?”
“So far you're clear. They've questioned a taxi driver who took a man fitting your description to the Champs Elyseacute;es, where he got out and went into a nightclub. Luckily for us, no one in the nightclub recalls exactly what you look like, and of course you didn't give your name. The police have no other leads. Nice work.”
“Thanks,” Smith said tiredly. “I need some help with the meaning of a symbol I found: It's a tree with a broad canopy, and there are three flames burning at its base as if fire is about to consume it.” He explained how he had found the picture tooled lightly into the kidnapper's leather pistol grip.
“I'll check on the image. How did your meetings with Mike Kerns and General Henze go?”
Smith relayed what he had learned from both men, including the black Citron that periodically was seen picking up Chambord. “And there's something else you need to know. I hope it's not what it could be.” He told the head of Covert-One about the “hospital orderly” who had been welcomed by the master sergeant into the highly secure pension where General Henze was staying.
Klein swore under his breath. “What the devil's going on? It can't mean the general's mixed up in anything. Not with his record. If it's anything more than some bizarre coincidence, I'd be shocked. But it's got to be looked into. I'll handle it from my end.”
“Could the sergeant be a security problem? A mole of some kind?”
Klein's voice hardened. “That's unthinkable, too. You stay away from it. We don't want anything to hurt your cover. I'll have Sergeant Matthias investigated from this end, too, and I'll find out about that tree symbol.” Klein clicked off.
Smith sighed, exhausted. He hoped an explanation of the tree graphic would lead him to Theacute;regrave;se. With luck, the terrorists would not be far away. He moved his suitcase from the bed and pushed down on the familiar mattress. The bed was springy but firm in the French way, and he looked forward to spending some quality time in it, sleeping.
In the bathroom, he stripped off his clothes and plunged into the shower. It had been installed in the ancient tub since he was here last. Once he had washed off the trip and the exertions of the day, he wrapped himself in a terry-cloth robe, sat at the window, and pushed open the shutters so he could gaze out across the steepled rooftops of Paris.
As he sat there, his mind wandering and weary, the black sky suddenly split open with a bright bolt of lightning. Thunder crashed, and rain poured down. The storm that had threatened all day had finally arrived. He lifted his face outside his window and let the cool raindrops splash him. It was difficult to believe that only
“So?” Fred Klein said.
“They've kidnapped Theacute;regrave;se Chambord.”
“I just got the news. One of her neighbors saw quite a bit of it, including some crazy man who tried to stop the kidnapping. The French police relayed the information. Fortunately, the neighbor didn't get a good look at the man's face.”
“Fortunately,” Smith agreed dryly.
“The police have no clue who the kidnappers are, or why, and it's got them mighty unhappy. Why kill Chambord but only kidnap his daughter? If the bombers have full data for the molecular computer, why kidnap her at all? Was she taken by the same people who blew up the Pasteur and killed Chambord, or by other people entirely? Are there two groups involvedone that has the data and another that wants it, so they've snatched Mile. Chambord in the hope she has something to tell them?”
“That's an unpleasant thought. A second group. Damn.”
“Hope I'm wrong.” Klein sounded frustrated.
“Yeah. Swell. But we've got to keep it in mind. What about the police report about me and Theacute;regrave;se Chambord? Do I need to take a new cover?”
“So far you're clear. They've questioned a taxi driver who took a man fitting your description to the Champs Elyseacute;es, where he got out and went into a nightclub. Luckily for us, no one in the nightclub recalls exactly what you look like, and of course you didn't give your name. The police have no other leads. Nice work.”
“Thanks,” Smith said tiredly. “I need some help with the meaning of a symbol I found: It's a tree with a broad canopy, and there are three flames burning at its base as if fire is about to consume it.” He explained how he had found the picture tooled lightly into the kidnapper's leather pistol grip.
“I'll check on the image. How did your meetings with Mike Kerns and General Henze go?”
Smith relayed what he had learned from both men, including the black Citron that periodically was seen picking up Chambord. “And there's something else you need to know. I hope it's not what it could be.” He told the head of Covert-One about the “hospital orderly” who had been welcomed by the master sergeant into the highly secure pension where General Henze was staying.
Klein swore under his breath. “What the devil's going on? It can't mean the general's mixed up in anything. Not with his record. If it's anything more than some bizarre coincidence, I'd be shocked. But it's got to be looked into. I'll handle it from my end.”
“Could the sergeant be a security problem? A mole of some kind?”
Klein's voice hardened. “That's unthinkable, too. You stay away from it. We don't want anything to hurt your cover. I'll have Sergeant Matthias investigated from this end, too, and I'll find out about that tree symbol.” Klein clicked off.
Smith sighed, exhausted. He hoped an explanation of the tree graphic would lead him to Theacute;regrave;se. With luck, the terrorists would not be far away. He moved his suitcase from the bed and pushed down on the familiar mattress. The bed was springy but firm in the French way, and he looked forward to spending some quality time in it, sleeping.
In the bathroom, he stripped off his clothes and plunged into the shower. It had been installed in the ancient tub since he was here last. Once he had washed off the trip and the exertions of the day, he wrapped himself in a terry-cloth robe, sat at the window, and pushed open the shutters so he could gaze out across the steepled rooftops of Paris.
As he sat there, his mind wandering and weary, the black sky suddenly split open with a bright bolt of lightning. Thunder crashed, and rain poured down. The storm that had threatened all day had finally arrived. He lifted his face outside his window and let the cool raindrops splash him. It was difficult to believe that only
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