later a pounding orange blur ran feverishly, returning to the ramshackle office labeled Management. Moreau and Latham joined Franqois by the narrow space between the tents.
"He sure was looking for someone," said Drew.
"Was it you?"
"I see no reason why," answered the driver, frowning, "but I seem to remember a speck, a splash of orange, when I turned away from my wife and children and called all of you."
"Your radio, perhaps," said Moreau.
"But, as you say, there was no reason for you to be singled out.. .. I believe there's a rather common explanation. Such places as these small amusement parks are havens for eluding taxes. Everything is cash money, and they print the tickets themselves. Someone probably assumed you were from the Department of Taxation, clocking the sales. Not at all unusual; those investigators are subject to bribery."
"Mes amis!" Jacques, minus his inebriated mode, rushed up to them, taking his jacket and tie from Franqois.
"If Madame Courtland went into the manager's office, she is still inside. There's no other exit."
"We'll wait," said Moreau.
"Again, we'll separate but stay in the area, one of us at all times watching the door. We'll rotate, twenty minutes a turn. I'll be first, and remember, keep your radios where you can hear the signal."
"I'll take over from you," said Drew, looking at his watch.
"And I from you, monsieur," added Jacques.
"I'll follow him," completed Franqois.
Two hours passed, each man having spent double duty at his post, when the chief of the [email protected] ordered them to meet at the tents west of the south entrance.
"Jacques," said Moreau, "are you certain there was no door on either side or at the rear of the building?"
"Not even a window, Claude. Except for those in front, there's not a single window."
"It's beginning to get dark," offered Franqois.
"Perhaps she's waiting for it to become darker still, then she'll leave when the lateafternoon crowds head home."
"A possibility, but again, why?"
"She got away from your unit on the Champstlys6es," said Latham, his eyebrows raised questioningly.
"There was no way she could have known she was under surveillance, monsieur," objected Jacques.
"Maybe somebody told her."
"That adds an entirely different dimension, Drew. One we have no evidence of."
"I'm searching, that's all. It's possible she's just paranoid possible hell, such a person would have to be.. ..
Let me ask all of you. Who did you see going out of that door? I saw the weirdo in the orange tights; he met with someone in a clown costume, who was waiting for him."
"I saw two hideously made-up women who looked like they came from an impoverished sheikh's harem," said Jacques.
"Could either of them have been Courtland's wife?" asked Moreau quickly.
"Negative. The same thought struck me, so I reverted to the drunken exercise and literally bumped into both. They were washed-out hags, one had terrible breath."
"You see how accomplished he is," said the Deuxieme chief to Latham.
"And you, Franqois?"
"There was only,a tall' man in large dark glasses, about our American's size, dressed in casual but expensive clothing. I suspect he was the owner, as he checked the door to see if it was locked."
"Then, if Madame Courtland has not emerged, and the office is locked up for the night, we're all saying she's still in there, not so?"
"Definitely," replied Drew.
"She could be in there for any number of reasons, including a pristine phone call while the ambassador's in Washington.. .. Which of you is the best second-story man?"
"Second story?" asked Franqois.
"He means opening locked doors and illegally entering places," clarified Moreau.
"What has that to do with two stories?" asked the perplexed driver.
"Never-mind, the answer is Jacques."
"You're really talented," said Latham.
"If Franqois was a getaway driver, I suspect my friend Jacques was probably a jewel thief before seeing the light and joining our organization," Moreau said.
"That also is merde, monsieur," said Jacques, grinning.
"Monsieur le Directeur has strange ways of complimenting us.
However, the Bureau sent me to a locksmith's training school for a month. With the proper tools, all locks are vulnerable, for the principles are the same, with the exception of the most recently developed computerized ones."
"That dilapidated hovel looks as computerized as an outdoor toilet. Go to work, Jacques, we'll be across from you on the other side." The locksmith-trained [email protected] agent walked rapidly back to the crude building as the others followed, staying in the growing shadows on the left of the dirt thoroughfare. Within moments Claude Moreau's judgment was proven grossly wrong; a clamor of bells and sirens suddenly erupted, echoing throughout the park.
Guards in various dress, some