Echo of War by Grant Blackwood Page B

After a few seconds’ silence the patrons returned to their drinks and conversations. The Black Boar’s furnishings were nearly as medieval as its name, with trestle tables, long benches, and a horseshoe bar whose front had seen more than its fair share of kicks and gouges—as had most of the patrons, all of whom Tanner assumed were locals, an assortment of sun- and wind-burned fisherman and oyster bed workers. There were no women to be seen.
    Incongruously, the bartender was dressed smartly, in a royal blue, tab-collar shirt with a red tie.
    â€œ Bonjour, ” Tanner repeated.
    â€œ Bonjour, messieurs. ”
    â€œDeux bi è res, s’il vous pla î t. ”
    The bartender brought them a pair of draft beers, then moved on to other customers. Tanner could feel eyes on his back, but he fought the urge to turn around. Probably just curious, he thought. His French was passable in Paris, but too urban for Brittany. The patrons were probably cursing them as early tourists invading their favorite night-spot.
    Amid the babble Briggs thought he heard snippets of German. He focused on the voices and tried to filter out the rest until certain of what he was hearing. He turned around, hiked his foot on the kick rail, and began scanning the room, trying to pinpoint the voices.
    Four men, huddled around their mugs at a table in the corner, seemed to be arguing.
    Long shot, Tanner thought. But, as Bear had said, there was only one way to find out. He turned to Cahil and explained. “In the corner by the window, four men.”
    â€œI see ‘em. What’re you thinking?”
    â€œWe don’t dare mention Susanna’s name; if she’s still under, it could burn her.”
    â€œStephan it is, then.”
    â€œFind a table within earshot of them. I’ll be back.”
    Tanner found the bathroom, killed three minutes, then walked back out. He strode to the center of the room and called, “M’excuser … M’excuser !” He waited until the voices died away and all eyes were on him. “Je cherche un ami, un homme a nomm é Stephan. ” I’m looking for a friend, a man named Stephan.
    There were five seconds of silence and then, as though he hadn’t spoken, the patrons returned to their drinking. In the corner, the German group put their heads together and began muttering between one another. Tanner glanced at Cahil, who gave an imperceptible nod: Reaction.
    After a few minutes, the Germans finished their beers, stood up, and headed out the door. Cahil rejoined Tanner at the bar. “You got their attention,” Bear said. “I only caught bits of their conversation, but the gist of it was they wanted to know who the hell you were and how you found this place.”
    â€œGood enough for me,” Tanner said. “Let’s go.”
    They stepped out the door and onto the street. It was dark, deserted. A wind had come up; mist swirled in the air. Beyond the stone wall Tanner could hear the roar of waves. He tasted salt.
    â€œEither they ran or they’re still around,” Cahil murmured.
    â€œI vote for the latter. We’ll know soon enough.”
    They started walking. They’d traveled less than a block when they heard footsteps clicking on the cobblestones behind them. Tanner glanced back. “Two,” he said. Ahead lay the mouth of an alley. As they neared it, the second pair of Germans stepped from the darkness to block their path. Briggs wasn’t surprised by this, but still he felt his heart pound a little harder. He and Cahil stopped and took a few circling steps into the street, now shoulder-to-shoulder.
    â€œLooks like something fell out of the tree,” Cahil murmured.
    â€œHope it’s worth it,” Tanner replied. “I’d hate to get mugged for nothing.”
    The Germans joined ranks before them. “How do you know Stephan?” one of them said in heavily accented English. He wore a black,