suicl 'de. As I told Bressard, they can't afford not to. If someone, no matter who it is, shows up asking questions about jodelle-well, if his enemies are who I think they are, that someone hasn't got much of a future."
"Did you tell this to Villier?"
"Not in so many words, but I made it clear that what he wanted to do was extremely dangerous. In essence, he told me to go to hell. He said he owed jodelle every bit as much, if not more, than I owe Harry. I'm supposed to go to his place tomorrow at noon. He says he'll be ready."
"Spell it out for him then," ordered Sorenson.
"If he still insists, let him go."
"Do we want his potentially shortened future on our slate?"
"Tough decisions are called tough because they're not easy.
You want to find Harry, and I want to find a rotten cancer that's growing in Germany."
"I'd like to find both," said Latham.
"Of course. I would too. So if your actor wants to perform, don't stop him."
"I want him covered."
"You should, a dead actor can't tell us what he's learned. Work it out with the [email protected], they're very good at that sort of thing. In an hour or so I'll call Claude Moreau. He's head of the Bureau and will be in his office by then. We worked together in Istanbul; he was the best field agent French intelligence ever had, world class, to be exact.
He'll give you what you need."
"Should I tell Villier?"
"I'm one of the old boys, Latham, maybe that's good and maybe that's bad, but I believe that if you're going to mount an operation, you go the whole nine yards. Villier should also be wired; it's an added risk, of course, and you should spell out everything to him.
Let him make a clean decision."
"I'm glad we're in sync. Thank you for that."
"I came in from the cold, Drew, but I was once where you are now. It's a lousy chess game, specifically when the pawns can get killed. Their blips never leave you, take my word for it. They're fodder for nightmares."
"Everything everybody says about you is true, isn't it? Including your predilection for having us in the field call you by your first name."
"Most of what they say I did is totally exaggerated," said the director of Consular Operations, "but when I was out there, if I could have called my boss Bill or George or Stanford or just plain Casey, I think I might have been a hell of a lot more candid. That's what I want from you people.
"Mr. Director' is an impediment."
"You're so right."
"I know. So do what you have to do;"
Latham walked out of the embassy on avenue Gabriel to the waiting armor-plated diplomatic car that would take him to his flat on the rue du Bac. It was a Citron sedan, the rear seats far too shallow, so he chose to sit in the front next to the marine driver.
"You know the address?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, sir. Surely I do, certainly."
An exhausted Drew looked briefly at the man; the accent was unmistakably American, but the juxtaposition of words was odd. Or was it simply that he was so tired that his hearing was playing tricks on him. He closed his eyes, for how long he did not know, grateful for the nothingness, the blank void that filled his inner screen. For at least several minutes his anxiety was put on hold. He needed the respite, he welcomed it. Then suddenly he was aware of motion, the jostling of his body in the seat. He opened his eyes; the driver was speeding across a bridge as though he were in a Le Mans race. Latham spoke.
"Hey, guy, I'm not rushing to a late date.
Cool it on the accelerator, pal."
"Tut mir --sorry, sir."
"What?" They sped off the bridge and the marine swung the car into a dark, unfamiliar street. Then it was clear; they were nowhere near the rue du Bac. Drew shouted, "What the hell are you doing?"
"It is a shortened cut, sir."
"Bullshit! Stop this fucking car!"
"Nein!" yelled the man in the marine uniform.
"You go where I take you, buddy!" The driver yanked an automatic from his tunic and pointed it at Latham's chest.
"You give me no orders, I give you orders!"
"Christ, you're one of them. You son of a bitch, you're one of them!"
"You will meet others, and then you will be gone!"
"It's all true, isn't it? You're all over Paris-"
"Und England, und die [email protected] Swaten, und