the water without colliding with a soldier. A dozen rocket launchers, much less hundreds, would be spotted instantly."
"Could it all be a hoax?" asked Drew.
"A hoax on whom? We both saw that tape. hibrer Gunter JAger was not speaking to us, not threatening us, he was declaiming to his sworn constituency, some of the wealthiest men in Europe and America. No, mon ami, he believes he can do it. And so we must keep thinking. Perhaps the London analysts will find something, God willing. Incidentally, you were right to send those materials to the British."
"I'm surprised to hear you say that."
"You shouldn't be. Not only are they very professional, but the U.K.
was never' occupied I grant you that the majority of the people reading through the material were probably not around during that war, but the scar of occupation remains on the national psyche.
The French can never be totally objective."
"That's quite an admission."
"It is the 'truth, as I see it."
They landed in Beauvais at 6:47 in the morning, the private airfield awash with the blinding early sun. The N-2 unit disembarked and was taken directly to the airport's lounge, where- clean, dry clothes awaited them. They changed quickly into the lightweight military fatigues, Karin the last to finish. When she emerged from the ladies' room in the pale blue army coveralls, Drew remarked.
"You look better than you should," he said.
"Now roll or bunch your hair up and shove it under the beret."
"It'll be uncomfortable."
"So's a bullet, and if anyone in that German detail at JAger's place was on his side, word will be sent down to take out the female. Come on, let's go. We're down to seventeen-plus hours.
How long will it take us to get to the-what-do-you-call-it, Jacques?"
"The water tower complex at the reservoir," replied the Deuxieme agent as they walked out to the waiting car in the parking lot.
"It's eighteen kilometers from here twelve miles American-so it won't be longer than ten minutes. Franqois is our driver, you remember Franqois, don't you?"
"From that carnival? The man with two bawling daughters he sent home?"
"The same. "
Chapter Forty-One
"My blood pressure remembers him very well, especially when he drove up on sidewalks."
"He's quite clever behind the wheel."
"Another word is maniacal."
"The director sent up several hundred aerial photographs for you to look at, to see if you might spot something we've missed."
"Not likely. While I was in college I got my pilot's license-props only-and did about thirty hours solo, but without a radio I could never find my way back to an airport. Everything looked the same."
"I can commiserate. I spent two years as a pilot officer in the Arm6e de I'Air and it was the same for me."
"No kidding? The French air force?"
"Yes, but I did not especially like heights, so I resigned and studied languages. The mystique of a military pilot fluent in different tongues still exists. The [email protected] picked me up."
They reached the Bureau's vehicle; it was the same nondescript car, with an engine designed for Le Mans or Day- 9
tona, that Latham remembered so well. Franqois was effusive in his greeting.
"Have your daughters forgiven you?" asked Drew.
"Never!" he exclaimed.
"Le Pare de Joie is closed down and they blame me for it!"
"Maybe someone will buy it and reopen. Let's go, old friend, we're in a hurry."
The N-2 unit piled in and [email protected] took off-literally, it might have seemed, by the expressions of Karin and the two commandos in the backseat. De Vries's eyes were wide open, and the faces of the two behind-the-lines veterans of Desert Storm were white with fear as Franqois screeched, side-slipping around curves and pressing the accelerator to the floor on straightaways until the speedometer read over a hundred and fifty kilometers an hour.
"What the hell is this freak doing?" asked Captain Dietz.
"Is this a suicide run, because if it is, I want out!"
"Not to worry!" yelled Drew, turning his head between Franqois and Jacques, trying to be heard over the roar of the engine.
"He was a racing car driver before he went to the [email protected]"
"He should have gone to a permanent traffic court," cried Lieutenant Anthony.
"He's crazy!"
"He's good," answered Latham.
"Watch!"
"I'd rather not," mumbled Karin.
The Deuxieme sedan screamed to a stop in the parking area of an enormous brick structure that was the waterworks of the Beauvais reservoir. As the unit got shakily out of the car, a contingent of two platoons of French soldiers converged on the vehicle, their weapons drawn. -Arr9tez!-shouted Jacques Bergeron.
"We are the [email protected] here is my official identification."
An officer