colonel."
"That's damn good, Lieutenant. Where are the delinquents now?"
"Separating and heading back to the sides. Get up to the wall!"
"Be careful, Drew!" said De Vries.
"We'll all be careful, Karin.. .. Come on." Like disciplined ants climbing a mound of dirt, the five men scrambled up the embankment to the high brick wall and the even higher iron gate of the strollers' path. Latham crawled forward and examined it; the "gate" was made of thick, heavy steel, rising above the wall, no slits or spaces for keys. It could be opened only from inside. Drew lurched back to the others, shaking his head in the moonlight. Each nodded, accepting the foregone conclusion that the wall had to be scaled.
Suddenly they heard the sound of boots on stone, and then two voices floated above them.
"Zigarette?"
"Nein, ist scblecbt!"
"Unsinn. "
The tattoo of boots continued; the French agents du combat stood up, stepped back, and lifted the grappling hooks and the short coils of rope from the ground. They braced themselves and waited; silently, without breathing, they all waited. Then it came, the two short, muted bursts from Latham's radio. The Frenchmen hurled the solid plastic hooks over the wall, tugged at them, then held the ropes taut as Drew and Captain Dietz lunged up like primates, their weapons strapped across their shoulders, climbing hand over hand with pounding knees against the brick until their bodies disappeared over the top. The instant they did so, the Etranger agents leapt up, clamoring after the Americans; four seconds later the grappling hooks came flying back, embedding themselves in the moist dirt of the embankment and narrowly missing a furious Witkowski.
On the other side of the wall, Latham gestured for the American commando and his French backup to head for the farthest open cabana as he and his agent raced into the first. The cabanas were simple wood-framed structures, tentlike, and covered with brightly colored striped canvas, the entrances no more than weighted flaps that could be pushed back and remain open for ventilation. The pool itself was dark, the sound of the filtering machinery barely a hum in the distance. Inside the first cabana, Drew turned to Etranger One.
"You know what comes next, don't you?" he asked.
"Oui, monsieur, I do," said the Frenchman, unsheathing his long bladed knife from its scabbard as Latham did the same.
"S'il vous plait, non," added the agent, holding Drew's wrist.
"Vous ites courageux, but my colleague and I are more experienced in these matters, monsieur. Le capitaine and we discussed this. You are too valuable to take the risk."
"I wouldn't ask you to do anything I wouldn't do!"
"You've displayed that, but you know what to look for, we do not."
"You discussed this .. . ?"
"Shhh!" whispered the agent.
"Here they come."
The following minutes were like a marionette show performed at three speeds: slow motion, stop, and fast forward. The two Etranger agents crawled slowly out of their respective cabanas, moving around them, and staying close to the ground until each was behind his target, like two stalking animals. Suddenly the north guard spotted the south side agent du combat and made a mistake.
He squinted to make sure his startled, unsuspecting eyes were not playing tricks on him. He swung the semiautomatic off his shoulder and was about to shout, when Number Two was on him, his clawlike left hand around the patrol's throat, the knife surgically penetrating his back. The astonished south guard spun around as Number One raced forward, his knife held head high, cutting off all sound as the blade slashed through the Nazi's throat.
All movement stopped, those seconds so necessary to assess the moment. Silence. Results positive. The Frenchmen then began to drag the dead guards to the edge of the wall nearest each, prepared to shove the bodies over it, when Latham ran out of the first cabana.
"No!" he whispered so loudly it could have been a roar.
"Bring them both back here!"
Inside, the three men stood around Drew, bewildered and not a little angry.
"What the hell are you doing, Con sOp said the American commando Dietz.
"We don't want anybody to find these jokers, for Christ's sake!"
"I think you missed something, Captain. Their sizes."
"One's pretty big, the other isn't. So?"
"You and me, Captain. They won't be perfect fits, but I'll bet we could squeeze into those idiot uniforms-over our fatigues. Even the shirts-it's dark out there."
"I'll be goddamned," said Dietz slowly.
"You may have a point.
In this light they'd be better camouflage than what we're wearing."
"D,@picbe-toi-hurry!" said Etranger Number One as he