The Lazarus Vendetta - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,119

We must not intrude further on these gentlemen's company."

Then she lowered her voice, making sure that only they could hear her instructions. "Now here's how we're going to play this. When I'm gone, wait five minutes and then head over to Number Six - the Victor Hugo house. Pretend you're tourists or literary critics or something. A white Audi with a dent on the right rear door will pull up there. Climb in without making a big fuss about it. Understand?"

Jon and Peter nodded obediently.

Still frowning, Randi moved away without looking back at them. She strolled briskly toward the nearest corner of the Place des Vosges - looking for all the world as though she truly were the epitome of a Paris grande dame out for her morning constitutional with her much-pampered poodle.

Ten minutes later, the two men stood outside the Maison de Victor Hugo, staring curiously up at the second floor, where the great writer, the author of Les Miserables and The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, had spent

sixteen years of his long life. "A curious fellow," Peter Howell remarked meditatively. "Prone to fits of madness in later life, you know. Someone once found him trying to carve furniture with his teeth."

"Much like Pascal," Smith suggested.

Peter looked surprised. "The famous philospher and mathematician?"

"No," Smith said, grinning. "Randi's dog."

"Dear me," Peter replied wryly. "The things one learns in Paris." He glanced casually over his shoulder. "Ah, our chariot awaits."

Smith turned around and saw the white Audi, complete with its dented rear door, stopping alongside the curb. He and Peter slid into the backseat. The car pulled away immediately, drove around the Place des Vosges, and swung left back onto the rue de Turenne. From there, the sedan began making a series of seemingly random turns, moving ever deeper into the heart of the maze of one-way streets that made up the Marais District.

Jon watched the sallow-faced driver, a heavyset man wearing a cloth cap, for a few moments. "Hello, Max," he said at last.

"Morning, Colonel," the other man said, grinning in the rearview mirror. "Nice to see you again."

Smith nodded. He and Max had once spent a great many hours in each other's company - trailing a group of Arab terrorists all the way from Paris to the Spanish coast. The CIA operative might not be the brightest star in the Agency's firmament, but he was a very competent field agent.

"Are we being followed?" Smith asked, seeing the way the other man's eyes were always in motion, checking every aspect of the environment around the Audi as he drove through the traffic-choked Paris streets.

Max shook his head confidently. "Nope. This is just a precaution. We're being extra careful, is all. Randi's sort of on-edge right now."

"Care to tell me why?"

The CIA agent snorted. "You'll find out soon enough, Colonel." He turned the Audi off into a narrow passageway. Tall stone buildings soared

on either side, blotting out any real sight of the sun or sky. He parked right behind a gray Renault van blocking most of the alley. "Last stop," he said.

Smith and Peter got out.

The back doors of the van popped open, revealing a crowded interior crammed full of TV, audio, and computer equipment. Randi Russell, still wearing her disguise as an old woman, was there - along with another man, one Jon did not recognize. Pascal the poodle was nowhere to be seen.

Jon scrambled up into the Renault, followed closely bv the Englishman. They pulled the doors shut behind them and then stood awkwardly hunched over in the cramped space.

"Glad you could make it," Randi said. She flashed a quick smile at them and waved a hand at the equipment mounted in racks on both sides of the van interior. "Welcome to our humble abode, the nerve center of our surveillance operation. Besides human watchers, we've been able to rig a number of hidden cameras at key points around the target."

She nodded to the other man, who was sitting on a stool in front of a computer screen and keyboard. "Let's show them what we've got, Hank. Bring up Camera Two first. I know our guests are dying to find out what we're doing here."

Her subordinate obediently entered a series of commands on his keyboard. The monitor in front of him flashed on immediately, showing a clear TV picture of a steep gray-blue slate roof. Antennae of every size, shape, and description sprouted from the roof.

Smith whistled softly.

'Yeah." Randi nodded flatly. "These guys are set to send and receive