that she's one of the owners of this stinking money trap. The rich do that, you know.
They buy up places like this because they're cheap to run and the cash registers ring night and day."
"You're probably right. After all, she went into the manager's office. Damn the filthy rich!"
"[email protected] dropped behind, then turned and strolled back to the row of shacks that served as offices. He sported the small sign.
that read Management; the building was perhaps twenty feet wide, separated from those on either side by narrow paths that looked more like ditches. The front windows were unusually high, and below there was a door that seemed out of place. It appeared to be much thicker or heavier than the wood surrounding it. Franqois removed the handheld radio from his jacket pocket, pressed the Transmit button, and brought the instrument to his ear.
Then abruptly, without warning, he heard two familiar voices, very familiar, and then a third, one he had been listening to for years.
"Papa, Papa!"
"Notre [email protected]! C'est lui!"
"Franqois, what are you doing here?"
The sight of his wife and two daughters sent the wideeyed driver into shock. Finding his voice while awkwardly embracing the two young girls, he spoke.
"My God, Yvonne! What are you doing here?"
"You called saying you'd be late and probably not home for dinner, so we decided to come here for a little fun."
"Papa, can you' come on the carousel with us? Please, Papa!"
"My darlings, Papa is at work.
"At work?" exclaimed the wife.
"Why would the [email protected] come here?"
-Sbb!" The perplexed Franqois turned briefly away and spoke rapidly into the radio.
"The subject is over here, near the south entrance. Meet me there. I have complications, as you may have heard.. .. Come, Yvonne; you too children, away from here!"
"Good Lord, you weren't joking," said the wife as the family rushed down the dirt road toward the south entrance.
"No, I wasn't joking, my dear. Now, for all our sakes, please get, into the' car and go home. I'll explain later."
"Non, Papa! We just got here!"
"It is "Yes, Papa," or the next time you come here, you'll be in the Sorbonne!"
What Franqois had not noticed was a young man dressed in torn orange tights and a ragged blue blouse, only his unkempt beard declaring him a male. He was standing to the left of the heavy door, smoking a cigarette, his attention drawn to the noisy and obviously unexpected family reunion. Especially noticeable was the handheld radio into which the man spoke, and even more startling, the question posed by the woman. ".. . Why would the Deuxieme come here?" The [email protected]?
The young man crushed his cigarette under his foot and raced inside.
The elegant proprietor, who called himself AndrE, broke off his conversation with Frau Courtland, politely excusing himself as he got out of the chair and crossed to the ringing telephone on his desk.
"Yes?" he said, then listened silently for no more than ten seconds.
"Prepare the car!"
he ordered, replacing the phone and turning to the ambassador's wife.
"Were you escorted here, madame?"
"I was driven from the Saddle and Bootery, yes."
"I mean, are you under the protection of French or American officials? Are you being followed?"
"Good heavens, no! The embassy has no idea where I am.1)
"Someone does. You must leave immediately. Come with me.
There is an underground tunnel from here to the parking area;
the steps are back here. Quickly!"
Ten minutes later, a breathless AndrE was back in his well appointed office; he sat behind the desk and relaxed,
sighing audibly. His telephone rang again; he answered it.
"Yes?"
"Go to scrambler," instructed the voice from Germany.
"Immediately!"
"Very well," said a concerned Andre, opening a drawer and flipping a switch inside.
"Go ahead."
"You have a most inefficient organization!"
"We don't think so. What troubles you?"
"It's taken me nearly an hour to find out how to reach you, and only then after threatening half of our intelligence branches!"
"I'd say that was most appropriate. I think you should reevaluate."
"Fool!"
"Now, I find that most offensive."
"You'll be far less offended when I tell you why."
"Enlighten me, please."
"Ambassador Daniel Courtland's wife is coming to see you-"
"Come and gone, mein Herr," interrupted Andre in selfsatisfaction.
"Thus eluding those who followed her here."
"Followed her?"
"Presumably."
"How?"
"I have no idea, but they put on quite a show, even to the point of employing the name of the [email protected] in a most unusual manner. Naturally, I rushed her away sight unseen and within the next half hour she'll be safely in the American Embassy."
"Idiot!" screamed the man in Germany.
"She was not to return to the embassy. She was to be