Son of Holmes by John Lescroart Page A

laughed. Then, in a brusque but friendly way, he clapped his hands together and sat up straight.
    “Now, what can I do for you?”
    “Well, frankly, we decided to come to see you mostly out of curiosity. Monsieur Lavoie, here, had some deliveries to make, and I had other business in town, which I chose to put off. Tania had told me so much about this building, and about yourself, that I thought I’d come by to meet you and to see some of your innovations.”
    “You did, did you?” There was more than a bit of flint in the mildly humorous gaze.
    I raised a hand. “Please stop me if I’m out of line.”
    “Be assured that I would, monsieur. It is no small matter that you have been allowed to come this far. You’re aware of that, of course.” It wasn’t a question, and he continued. “But then we’ve carried on this farce long enough. It isn’t every day that one meets such a serious rival face-to-face, is it?”
    “I’m afraid I don’t completely understand,” I said.
    “Come, come, Monsieur Giraud. Surely you don’t think just anyone can enter this compound. And I do think I’m justified in calling it precisely that. Probably there isn’t another man, or men”—here he motioned to Georges—“in France that I would have allowed within these walls without an official reason. ‘Just wanted to look over your innovations! ’ Indeed!” He chuckled at my ludicrous suggestion. “I admit that bringing a visitor along with you, and one with actual business here, is a charming touch that shows real imagination, and I begin to see what Tania is talking about. But let’s admit the facts, that you came by here for the same reason that I let you in—plain curiosity, all right—and not about our innovations.”
    Georges picked up the tenuous threads. “He’s found you out, Jules, No doubt of it.”
    “All right,” I said, forcing a grin. I had no choice but to press on, hoping that Ponty would drop some further clue as to what he was talking about. “I’ll admit it—I simply had to discover what it was all about.”
    The director looked suitably downcast. “It’s about love.”
    “Yes,” I answered, “it is about love.”
    “She told you, then, about my proposal?”
    “Of course,” I said, my stomach sinking since in fact she’d told me no such thing. “Just the other day.”
    “Yes, I expected she would have. I must admit I never entertained much hope, but I had to try.”
    Again Georges came to my rescue. “She is a remarkable woman,” he said. “Who could blame you?”
    Ponty sighed deeply. Then, again clapping his hands softly in what I took to be a characteristic gesture, he regained his businesslike composure. “Well, I am glad to meet you after all. If I have to lose her, it is some comfort to meet the man and realize that he is a gentleman.”
    I accepted the compliment with a nod, nearly overcome with relief that Tania had turned him down, then distressed anew by the secrets she kept from me. But this was no time to reflect on that. “I’m sorry if my curiosity seems callous,” I said. “I had no intention—”
    “Please,” he said, waving me off, “put the thought from your mind. What could be more natural? But to satisfy your curiosity about me completely, I suppose I should show you our operations here after all, eh? How does the saying go—‘judge a man by his creation’? The St. Etienne arsenal is my ‘creation,’ Monsieur Giraud. It is the thing of which I am most proud.”
    At that moment a guard passed in the hall and looked in, prompting Georges to speak up. “Frankly, I’m very impressed with your security.”
    “Yes,” Ponty replied. “I doubt rather strongly that anything save a massive assault could cause us much inconvenience. I might add, we don’t envision an assault of that kind around here. Still, considering the kind of work we’re doing, we can’t be too careful. Come.”
    We rose and went back out to the corridor. He turned to