knowing of her existence. I could curse her mother for that, and yet perhaps she was wise. For the first thirteen years of Gisele's life her father was a drunken derelict. What could I have given her?" He paced away and stood rigidly regarding a wall. Then whirled and rested his shoulders against the cool plaster.
"I lost my chance with her, but the Ideal has granted me another. She had a son, my grandchild. And I want him."
"And the father?"
"Is a member of your party"
"You say you want him. What? You would steal him from his father?"
Tach rubbed wearily at his eyes. Forty-eight hours without sleep was taking its toll. " I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead. All I want is to see him, to hold him, to look into the face of my future."
Bonnell slapped his hands onto his thighs and pushed up from the chair. "C'est bien, Doctor. A man deserves a chance to look upon the intersection of his past, present, and future. I will find you this man."
"Just give his address, there's no reason for you to be involved."
"He might take fright. I can reassure him, set up a meeting. His name-?"
"Francois Andrieux."
Bonnell noted it. "Very good. So, I will speak to this man, and then I will ring you at tfie Ritz--"
"I'm no longer staying there. You can reach me at the Lys on the Left Bank."
" I see. Any particular reason?"
"No."
"I must work on that innocent expression. It is very charming, if not terribly convincing." Tachyon flushed, and Bonnell laughed. "There, there, don't take offense. You've told me enough of your secrets tonight. I won't press you for any more."
The junket was dining at the expensive Tour Eiffel. Tachyon, leaning on the rail of the observation deck, fidgeted and waited for Braun to emerge. Through the windows of the restaurant he could see that the party had reached the brandy-coffee-cigars-speeches stage. The door opened, and Mistral, giggling, darted out. She was followed by Captain Donatien Racine, one of France's more prominent aces. His sole power was flight, but that coupled with the fact he was career military had ensured that the press dubbed him Tricolor. It was a name he hated.
Gripping the American about her slender waist, Racine carried them over the protective railing. Mistral gave him a quick kiss, pushed free of his encircling arm, and floated away on the gentle breezes that sighed about the tower. Her great blue-and-silver cape spread around her until she resembled an exotic moth drawn by the glittering lights webbing the tower. Watching the couple darting and swooping in an intricate game of tag, Tachyon suddenly felt very weary and very old and very earthbound.
The restaurant doors flew open, and the delegation flowed out like water through a broken dam. After five months of formal dinners and endless speeches, it was no wonder they fled.
Braun, elegant in his white tie and tails, paused to light a cigarette. Tachyon touched him with a thread of telepathy. Jack.
He stiffened, but gave no other outward sign.
Gregg Hartmann glanced back. "Jack. are you coming."
"I'll catch up with you. Think I'll enjoy the air and the view and watch those crazy kids skydive." He pointed to Mistral and Racine.
A few moments later he joined Tachyon at the rail. "Bonnell's going to set up a meeting."
Braun grunted, flicked ash. "The Surete were at the hotel when I got back. They tried to be subtle about questioning the delegation as to your whereabouts, but the news hounds are snuffling. They sense a story"
The Takisian shrugged it aside with a hunch of the shoulder. "Will you come with me? To the meeting?" Ancestors, how it stuck in the throat to ask him for help! "Sure."
"I may need help with the father."
"So you're going to do. . ."
"Whatever it takes. I want him."
Montmartre. Where artists, legitimate and otherwise, swarmed like locusts ready to fall upon the unwary tourist. A portrait of your beautiful wife, monsieur. The cost politely never mentioned, then when it was completed a charge sufficient to purchase an old master.
Tour buses groaned up the hill and disgorged their eager passengers. The Gypsy children, circling like vultures, moved in. The European travelers, wise to the ways of these innocentfaced thieves, drove them away with loud threats. The Japanese and Americans, lulled by sparkling black eyes in dark faces, allowed them to approach. Later they would rue it when they discovered the loss of wallets, watches, jewelry.