the absence of authority. There's a rigid chain of command and I can't go around it-not even sure I want to. It's what I said before, the 'quiet ones' know more than I do .. . and now I can't trust them."
"Give me your phone, please
"It's set for long distance."
"By pressing F zero one eight you can revert it to Paris and its environs." De Vries touched the numbers she knew by rote, waited several moments, and spoke.
"I'm arrondissement six, please run a check." She covered the mouthpiece and looked at Drew.
"A
simple intercept run, nothing out of the ordinary." Suddenly Karin's gaze shot downward to the floor, her face frozen, her chin jammed into her throat. She stood up and screamed.
"Get out! Everyone get out of here!" She grabbed Latham's arm, yanking him out of the booth, and kept yelling.
"Everyone!" she roared in French.
"Leave your tables and go outside! Les terroristes!" The mass exodus was chaotic; several windows were smashed as diners fled, clashing with waiters and busboys, racing to find whatever egresses they could as bewildered, furious management personnel tried to stem the stampede, then reluctantly followed. Out on the avenue Gabriel all watched in horror as the rear section of the brasserie was blown apart, the impact of the explosion shattering what was left of the windows, sending fragments of glass flying into the street, imbedding themselves into the flesh of faces and through the fabric of clothing into arms, chests, and legs. Pandemonium filled the street as Latham fell over the body of Karin de Vries.
"What did you learn?" shouted Drew, shoving the gun into his belt.
"How did you know?"
"There's no time! Get up. Follow me!"
hey raced down the Gabriel until they reached a deep, shadowed storefront, a joadfier whose expenTsive gems shone more brightly in the relative darkness. Karin yanked him into it; breathless, they both gulped in air before Latham spoke.
"Goddammit, lady, what happened? You said that whoever you called was running an intercept check, then you started yelling and all hell broke loose! I want an answer."
"The check was never made," replied De Vries, still gasping for breath.
"Instead, someone else. came on the phone and yelled, "Three men in dark clothes, they're running up and down the street from place to place. They want your friend out!" Before I could ask any questions, I saw two baguettes rolling on the floor toward our booth."
"Baguettes? Loaves of bread?"
"Shiny small loaves, Drew. Artificial bread. Plastic explosives ten times more powerful than grenades."
"Oh, my God .. ."
"There's a taxi stand at the next corner. Quickly!" Still breathless, they settled into the backseat of a cab as Karin gave the driver an address in the Marais district.
"In an hour I'll return to the embassy-"
"Are you crazy?" Latham broke in, snapping his head toward her.
"You've been seen with me, you said so yourself. They'll kill you!"
"Not if I return within a reasonable amount of time and behave as if I've had a terrible shock-reasonably hysterical, although not out of control."
"Words," said Drew sharply, disparagingly.
"No, basic common sense in a tenuous situation that demands my getting back to my normal routine as soon as can."
"I repeat, you're a lunatic. Not only were you with me, you were the one who shouted the warning! You started the stampede."
"So would anyone else who'd come in off the Gabriel, seeing all those policemen and the patrol cars, and hearing how terrorists had shot up an automobile. Good Lord, Drew, two loaves of bread-even if they were real-rolling into a booth as a man in a dark sweater and a black visored cap raced out, colliding with a waiter, really!"
"You didn't tell me about any man racing outside-"
"In a heavy sweater on a warm spring day, his face hidden and nearly upsetting a waiter carrying a tray!"
"Or about any waiter."
"Incidentally, no waiter in a Paris brasserie would treat loaves of bread as if they were bocci balls."
"Okay, okay, you can explain away that part, but not the fact that you were with me."
"I'll take care of it in a way any Frenchman, terrorist or not, will understand. I'll make several phone calls establishing the fact."
"What phone calls? About what and to whom?"
"To people at the embassy, D and R first, of course, then the entry desk, and a few others who are known gossips, including Courtland's chief aide and the first attache's secretary. I'll tell them I was with you at the restaurant that was bombed, that we got out, you disappeared, and I'm