to do that for a couple of days now."
"Do what?"
"Hold you."
"I was simply pleased to see that you were all right."
"I'm all right."
"That's very nice."
"It was also nice to hold you." Latham laughed softly.
"Look, lady, you put the idea in my head. You were the one who said your excuse at the embassy was that you found me attractive, etcetera, etcetera. "
"It was not a self-fulfilling wish, Drew. It was an excuse, strategically employed."
"Come on, I'm not Quasimodo, am IF'
"No, you're a rather large, not ungainly fellow who, I'm sure, many women find quite attractive."
"But not you."
"My concerns lie elsewhere."
"You mean I'm not Freddie-"Freddie de V," the incomparable."
"No one could be Freddie, the good or the ugly."
"Does that mean I'm still in the race?"
"What race?"
"For your affections, maybe, as temporary and as little as they may be."
"Are you talking about sleeping with me?"
"Hell, that's down the road. Remember, I'm an American from New England. Way down the road, lady."
"You're also a prevaricator."
"A what?"
"I won't say a liar, that's too harsh."
"What?"
"You're also a brutal man who smashes other men into whatever it's called in hockey matches. Oh, yes, I've heard.
Harry told me."
"Only when they got in my way. Never gratuitously."
"Who made those decisions?"
"I did, I guess."
"My point is made. You're a belligerent individual."
"What the hell has that got to do with anything?"
"Only, at the moment, I'm grateful that you are."
"What?"
"The man with the camera, at the other side of this fountain."
"What about him? People take pictures of Paris at night.
Toulouse-Lautrec painted them, today they take photos."
"No, he's a neo, I feel it, I know it."
"How?"
"The way he stands, the way he's so .. . so aggressive."
"That's not a lot to go on."
"Then why is he here? How many people really take pictures at night in the Bois de Boulogne?"
"You've got a point. Where is he?"
"Directly across from us-or he was. On the south path. "
"Stay here."
"No. I'll go with you."
"Goddammit, do as I say."
"You cannot order me!"
"You don't have a gun, and even if you did, you couldn't fire it.
Your hand's all wrapped up."
"I do have a weapon, and if you were more alert, you'd know I'm left-handed."
"What?"
"Let's go."
Together they raced through the trees until they reached the south path that led to the illuminated fountain. The man taking photographs was still there, ramrod-straight and snapping what seemed to be random shots of the strollers circling the fountain.
Silently, Latham approached, his hand gripping the automatic in his belt.
"You get your kicks taking pictures of people who don't know they're being photographed," said Drew, tapping the man on the shoulder.
The Blitzkrieger whipped around at his touch, staring at Drew in the dim light, his eyes bulging.
"You!" he chied gutturally.
"But no, not the same! Who are you?"
"I've got one for you." Latham grabbed the man by the throat, hurling him into the trunk of a tree.
"Kroeger!" he shouted.
"Who's Gerhardt Kroeger?"
The neo recovered quickly, instantly kicking his boot up into Drew's groin; Latham leapt backward, avoiding the blow, and smashed the barrel of his automatic into the Nazi's face.
"You son of a bitch, you were looking for me, weren't you?"
"Nein!" screamed the neo, blood spreading across his face, partially blinding him.
"You are not the man in the photograph!"
"But someone like me, right? Same kind of face, sort of, right?"
"You are crazy!" shrieked the Nazi, leveling a lethal chop to Drew's neck; Latham gripped the wrist and twisted it violently counterclockwise.
"I was only taking photographs!" The man fell into the bushes.
"Now that we've established that," said Drew breathlessly, straddling the neo, then suddenly crashing his knee into the man's ribcage, "let's talk about Kroeger!" Latham pressed the barrel of the automatic into the flesh between the Nazi's eye. "Youtell me or you've got a tunnel in your head!"
"I am prepared to die!"
"That's nice, because you're about to. You've got five seconds, Adolf.. .. One, two, three .. . four-"
"Nein! .. . He's here in Paris. He must find Sting!"
"And you thought I was Sting, correct?"
"You are not the same man!"
"You're damned right I'm not. Sit up!"
Where it came from, Drew would never know, but before he could adjust, a large pistol was in the neo's right hand. Without any sound preceding it, a loud gunshot suddenly came from behind them; the Nazi's head snapped back, blood flowing from his neck.
Karin de Vries had saved Latham's life. She ran down the path to him.
"Are you all right?" she cried.
"Where did he get the gun?" asked a shaken, bewildered Drew.
"The same place you got yours," answered De