dressed hotel clerk who pulled a card out of his file.
"Ah, oui, Colonel Webster, you are a most welcome guest. The embassy requested a mini-suite and would you believe we found one for you. A Spanish couple left early."
"I'm very grateful."
"Further," said the clerk, reading the card, "you may be having visitors, and we are to call you before giving them your room number, nest-ce pas?"
"Quite correct."
"Your luggage, monsieur?"
"I left it at the concierge's desk and gave him my name."
"Excellent. You are a traveler, then."
"The army has me going from one place to another," said Drew, signing the register. Anthony Webster, Col." U.S. Army.
Washington, D.C." U.S.A.
"Ah, so interesting." The clerk spun the registry pad around and withdrew the hotel record.
He raised his eyes and tapped his bell.
"Take Monsieur le Colonel to Suite 703, and inform the concierge to send up his luggage. The name is Webster."
"Oui," replied the uniformed bellman.
"Follow me, monsieur.
Your luggage will arrive in a few minutes."
"Thank you."
The elevator ride to the seventh floor was uneventful except for a middle-aged American couple who were arguing. The woman, hair bluish and neck and wrists replete with jewels, berated her obese husband, who was wearing a wide-brimmed Stetson.
"Lucas, you can at least be pleasant!"
"What's to be pleasant about? Ah cain't git a real lit no jest one of those tiny jobs you can barely put yer ass in, and nobody speaks American till you give 'em a tip, then you'd think they were brought up in Texarkana."
"That's because you won't learn the money."
"You did?"
"I shop. Do you know what you gave the last taxi driver?"
"Hell, no, Ah jest peeled off some paper."
"The fare was fifty-five francs, roughly ten dollars. You gave him a hundred, which is nearer twenty dollars."
"Ali'll be swaggled. Mebbe that's why he kept winkin' at me when you got out, sayin' in perfectly good English that he'd be outside the hotel most of the night and I should look for him."
"Really!" Fortunately, the door to the sixth floor opened and the couple walked out.
"I apologize for my countrymen," said Drew, lacking for anything else to say as he saw the raised eyebrows of the bellman.
"Don't, Monsieur le Colonel. Later tonight it's quite possible the gentleman will be on the pavement looking for that taxi."
"Touchif. "
"D'accord. This is the Paree of their dreams, nest-ce. pas?"
"C'est vrai, I'm afraid."
"It's all harmless.. .. Here is your floor, monsieur."
Chapter Twenty
The suite was small, a bedroom and a separate living area, but it was charming, very European, and what made it rather outstanding was a bottle of Scotch on the small bar. Witkowski must have had pangs of guilt, which were definitely appropriate.
Latham hated the goddamned uniform. His chest, his waist, and his rear end were encased in a cloth tube. Why weren't there massive resignations in the armed forces on the basis of clothing alone?
The bellman gone, Drew waited for his suitcase, which held a basic change of civilian clothes, taken from his flat by a blond wigged Karin. He removed the suffocating tunic, poured himself a drink, turned on the television set, switching the channels until he found the CNN station, and sat down. The current news was on sports, mainly American baseball, which did not interest him; when the hockey season arrived, it was different.
The doorbell rang; it was a young bellboy with his suitcase.
Drew thanked and tipped. him, astonished to hear him say, "This is for you, monsieur." The wide-eyed youngster gave him a note.
"It is, how do you say, confidentiel?"
"That's good enough, thanks very much."
Call Room 330. A friend.
Karin? It was so like her very unpredictable behavior. They were lovers now-more than lovers. There was something between them that no one could take away. So like her!
He picked up the phone, studied the printed instructions, and dialed.
"Hi, I made it," he said, the moment the phone was picked up.
"Hey, man, then it is you!" said a mate voice on the line.
"What? Who are you?"
"C'mon, Bronco, you can't recognize your old roommate from the Manitoba Stars? It's Ben Lewis! I saw you in the lobby. At first I thought I was seeing double, but I knew it was you!
"Course, then you took off your hat and I figured I was nuts, until I watched you walk to the elevators. "
"I .. . I really don't know what you're talking about."
"Get with it, Brond Your right foot. Remember when your ankle got sliced by a guy on the Toronto Comets? You heated in a few weeks and came