you put the phone back in your pocket. Then turn right into the next narrow street. We've studied the area; we'll get out and be behind you."
"For Christ's sake, stop him, take him! If he's found me, it's more than likely he's zeroed in on Mrs. de Vries's place!"
"S he's not our priority, whoever she is. You are, mister."
"She's a big priority with me, Mr. Marine!"
"Start laughing real loud and put the phone away."
"You got it!" Drew, making a fool of himself on the crowded rue de Castiglione, laughed like a howling hyena, replaced the cellular phone in his pocket, and turned right into the first narrow street only yards ahead. However, instead of walking, he broke into a run, racing to the nearest door front on the right and whipped around the stone corner out of sight. The street itself, barely more than a double alleyway, was one of those lower Parisian residential areas where the histories were long and the rents short. The only light came from two street lamps, at opposite ends of the thoroughfare;
the rest was bathed in dark shadows. Removing his officer's hat, Latham, inch by inch, peered around the stone. The figure walking cautiously down the narrow street held a gun in his hand, causing Drew to swear silently. He had not thought to carry a weapon thought hell, there was no place under the tight-fitting fabric of the uniform to wear one!
Then, obviously seeing no one, the man with the gun began running toward the lamplight at the other end; it was all Latham had to observe. At the instant the figure came into view, Drew lashed his right foot out, catching the man in the groin, then sprang forward, throwing Alan Reynolds across the wide alleyway into the wall, Latham's hand gripping the weapon loosened by the traitor's lack of balance.
"You son of a bitch!" roared Drew, crashing Reynolds into the stone more aggressively than he had ever body checked an opponent on the ice.
"Where do you come from, what do you know? Where does my brother fit in?"
"You're not him!" choked the Nazi.
"I suspected as much, but they wouldn't listen to me!"
"I'm listening, you bastard," said Latham, the mole's gun pressed against his forehead.
"Talk!"
"There's nothing to talk about, Latham, they have my report. You and the De Vries woman, the trap you've set."
Suddenly Reynolds's right hand surged up in the shadows to his collar. He squeezed the cloth and bit into the bulging fabric.
"Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein 174ihrer!" shrieked Alan Reynolds with his dying breath.
The marine unit, designated W, raced down the dark, narrow street, their weapons bared.
"Are you all right?" yelled the sergeant in charge.
"No, I'm not all right!" answered a furious Drew.
"How did this son of a bitch pass muster? How did he get by all those high-tech microscopes and the psychiatrists and the researchers who supposedly can pinpoint the date, hour, and minute of an applicant's conception? It's all bullshit! This man wasn't just a neo out for money or a few medals, he was a certifiable fanatic who screamed the Nazi salute as he took his cyanide. He should have been spotted years ago!"
"Can't argue with you there said the sergeant.
"We radioed Colonel Witkowski that we'd spotted him, or thought we had. He told us to do whatever we had to do, shoot him in the legs or the arms, but to bring him in alive."
"Unless the Corps issued you powers I don't think it possesses, that'll be a tad difficult, Sergeant."
"We'll take the' body to the embassy, but first we're getting you back to the Inter-Continental."
"You'd have to drive around several blocks to drop me off. I can walk quicker."
"The colonel would fry our asses if we let you do that."
"And
I'll fry them if you don't. I'm not responsible to
Witkowski, but if it'll make you feel better, he's the first person I'm going to call."
Back in his hotel suite, Latham picked up the phone and dialed the colonel's apartment.
"It's me," he said.
"And the next time you tell my people you'll do what you like because you're not responsible to me, I'll dismiss your protection and do my best to steer you into a Nazi assassination unit."
"I believe you would."
"You can take it to the bank!" confirmed the angry colonel.
"I had my reasons, Stanley."
"What the hell are they?"
"Karin, to begin with. Reynolds filed a report to the ncos that claimed I wasn't Harry but the other Latham and that Karin was part of the trap."