literally sworn that Madame Courtland survived, that she didn't die, that she received excellent treatment from your clinic!
"Well, you weren't under oath, Claude.
"Merde! You are crazy!"
"The hell I am. I got her covered body inside and downstairs before anybody could tell the bitch was dead."
"But will it work, Stanley?"
"It has so far.. .. Look, Claude, I'm only trying to produce confusion. The Latham the ncos are after is the one they killed, but they don't know that. So they're coming after the other, and we're waiting for them. The ambassador's bitch is no less important to them, maybe even more important because they figured out we know who and what she is. After all, the Count of Strasbourg wasn't about to give her a tetanus shot. With luck, along with your minor fibs, our little charade outside will pay off-"
"Minor fibs?" choked Moreau, interrupting.
"Have you any idea what I've done? I lied to the President of France! I'll never be trusted again!"
"Hell, extend your rationale a touch. You did it for his own good.
You had reason to believe his office was bugged."
"Preposterous. It's the [email protected]'s responsibility to see that it's not!"
"Guess you can't use that one," allowed Witkowski.
"How about your running clearance checks on his top aides?"
"We did that most thoroughly months ago. However, your equivocation about extending my rationale may have merit."
"For your President's own good," the colonel broke in, drawing heavily and happily on his cigar.
"Yes, exactly. What he doesn't know he can't be held responsible for, and we are dealing with psychopaths, with fanatical assassins."
"I don't get the connection, Claude, but it's a start. Incidentally, thanks for the additional personnel at the hospital. Except for two sergeants and a captain, my marines aren't exactly fluent in French."
"Your captain was an exchange student, and one of the sergeants has French parents; he knew our language before English. Your other sergeant's use of French mainly consists of obscenities and how to procure specific services."
Chapter Thirty-One
"Good! The ncos are obscene, so he's perfect."
"How is our stenographer, the reincarnated Madame Courtland, holding up?"
"She's a loaded gun," said the colonel.
"I ho e not."
"What I mean is she's a Jewish lady from New York and hates the Nazis. Her grandparents were gassed at Bergen-Belsen."
"Strange, isn't it? Drew Latham used the phrase "What goes around, comes around." Apparently it's quite true in human terms."
"What's really true is that when some neo son of a bitch comes after the new Mrs. Courtland, and one of them will, we'll nail him and break him!"
"I told you before, Stanley, I have my doubts that anyone will come. The ncos are not fools. They'll sense a trap."
"I've considered that, but my money's on human nature. When the stakes get this high-and a live Sonnenkind puts 'em up there-all bets are covered. The bastards can't afford not to."
"I hope you're right, Stanley.. .. How is our argumentative colleague, Drew Latham, accepting the scenario?"
"Pretty well. We've selectively leaked his cover as Colonel Webster around the embassy, even to the Antinayous, who apparently knew it anyway. Now you do the same. Also, we're moving the De Vries woman here to the embassy with complete marine security at her quarters."
"I'm surprised she agreed so readily," said Moreau.
"She's capable of many artifices, but I truly believe she cares for the man, and given her background would not voluntarily leave him under the circumstances." . "She doesn't know about it yet," said Witkowski.
"We're moving her tonight."
It was early evening, the -Parisian days growing shorter, and Karin de Vries sat in an armchair by the window, the dull,-soft light of a floor lamp careening off her long dark hair, creating soft shadows across her attractive face.
"Have you any idea what you're doing?"
she asked, glaring at Latham, who once again was half dressed in the army uniform, the tunic draped over the desk chair.
"Sure," he replied.
"I'm bait."
"You're dead, "for God's sake!"
"The hell I am. At least the odds are on my side. I wouldn't take them otherwise."
"Why? Because the colonel said so? .. . Don't you understand, Drew, that when it comes down to 'mission completed, "you are merely factor X or Y, expendable for the competition? Witkowski may be your friend, but don't fool yourself, he's a professional. The operation comes first! Why do you think he insists that you wear that damned uniform?"
"Hey, I know that, or at least I figured it was part of the equation.
But they're sending over a chest protector and a larger jacket, or whatever you call it; it's