and his most-trusted field officer, Jacques Bergeron, arrived at the Georges Cinq station of the Paris Metro. They walked, separately, to the rear of the platform, each carrying a handheld radio, the frequencies calibrated to each other.
"He's a tall man, quite slender," said the Deuxieme chief into his instrument.
"With a propensity for bending over due to his usually addressing shorter people-"
"I've got him!" exclaimed the agent.
"He's leaning against & wall, waiting for the next train to come in."
"When it does, do as I told you."
The underground train arrived and came to a halt; the doors opened, disgorging several dozen passengers.
"Now," said Moreau into his radio.
"Fire."
As ordered, Bergeron's blank gunshots reverberated along the platform as the Metro riders raced en masse to the exit. Moreau ran to the panicked Gerhardt Kroeger, grabbing his arm and shouting.
"They're trying to kill you! Come with me!"
"Who's trying to kill me?" screamed the surgeon, running with Moreau into a prearranged open storage room.
"What's left of your idiotic K Unit, you fool."
"They've disappeared!"
"To your ears from their mouths. They must have bribed a maid or a maintenance man and placed a tap in your room."
"Impossible!"
"You heard the gunfire. Shall we bring back the train and see where the bullets came from? You were lucky it was crowded."
"Acb, mein Gott!"
"We have to talk, Herr Doktor, or we both may be within their gun sights."
"But what about Harry Latham? Where was he?"
"I saw him," lied Jacques Bergeron, walking behind them, his pistol filled with spent blank shells in his pocket.
"When he heard the gunfire, he got back on the train."
"We must talk," said Moreau, staring at Kroeger, and heading for a large steel door that was partially open, otherwise, we all lose."
They walked inside.
The [email protected] chief found the light switch and flipped it on.
They were in a medium-size enclosure of dull white cinder block, housing huge antiquated switches and track lights along with unopened crates of new equipment.
"Wait outside, Jacques," said Moreau to his agent.
"When the police arrive, as they surely will, identify yourself and tell "II them you were on the train and got off when you heard the gunshots. Close the door, please."
Alone with the German in the dim gray light of a wire enclosed ceiling bulb, Moreau sat on one of the crates.
"Make yourself comfortable, Doctor, we'll be here for a while, at least until the police have come and gone."
"But if they find me in here-"
"They won't, the door locks upon closing. We were most fortunate that some idiot left it open. On the other hand, who'd want to steal anything here? Who could even carry anything?"
"We missed him, we missed him!" cried Kroeger, banging his fist on a crate, then sitting on the large wood box, shaking his bruised hand.
"He'll call again," offered Moreau.
"Perhaps nor today, but certainly tomorrow. Remember, we're dealing with a desperate man, an isolated man. But I must ask you, why is it so important that you find Latham?"
"He's .. . he's dangerous."
"To whom? You? The Brotherhood?"
"Yes .. . to all of us." 4"Why?)@
"How much do you know?"
"Everything, naturally. I am the Deuxieme Bureau."
"I mean specifically."
"Very well. He escaped from your Alpine valley, somehow made his way through the mountain snows until he reached a road, and was picked up by a villager in a truck."
"A villager? Now you're the fool, Herr Moreau. The Antinayous, that's who picked him up. His escape was arranged from inside, a traitor inside the valley. We must find that Hocbverrdter!"
"Traitor," yes, I understand." Over the years the head of the [email protected] had learned to sense a lie when told by amateurs under stress. The vacuous desperation in the eyes, the words tumbling over one another, often accompanied by spittle forming at the corners of the mouth. As he studied Gerhardt Kroeger, the signs were all there.
"So that's why you must find him? To interrogate him before executing him, so as to learn the identity of your traitor?"
"You must understand, it was a woman, and she has to be someone very high up in the organization. She must be eliminated!"
"Yes, of course, I understand that too." Beads of perspiration began to form on Kroeger's hairline, and the underground room was cool.
"So that's it, the reason for your K Unit, the reason such an important man as yourself would come to Paris-to learn the identity of a traitor high in the ranks of the Brotherhood."
"Precisely." "I see. And there's no other reason?"
"None." Two rivulets of sweat rolled down the German's forehead, fell over his brows,