Paris Love Match - By Nigel Blackwell Page 0,22

just in time to adsorb the weight of Sidney landing in his arms. He rolled her to one side and shuffled right to catch April. But April didn’t jump. The bags started rolling and sliding from the filthy floor. Piers leapt back, and April was deposited gracefully down on a mound of garbage. Piers pulled her off.

Sidney was already looking up and down the road. She jumped out into the traffic, zigzagged to the middle lane, and stepped in front of a taxi. Piers dragged April through the traffic as he listened to screeching tires and prayed Sidney wasn’t hit. When he reached the taxi, she was already in the passenger seat. Piers followed April into the back. The taxi driver screwed up his nose and rolled down the electric windows.

“Charles de Gaulle. Move it, we’re late,” Sidney said. The taxi eased off and joined a line of traffic.

Piers leaned forward. “Fifty euros if you get us there on time.”

The taxi driver grunted and swung the car, tires squealing, out into the oncoming lanes, and accelerated away.

Piers looked at April. She had her hands on her lap and her head down. She was biting her lip. He patted her shoulder. “We’ll be all right.”

She took deep breaths. “But he won’t, will he? It’s not like you can do anything for him, can you? You’re just going to walk away and live your lives.”

Piers sighed. “I know we can’t help him. But now we’re in danger because of him.”

She scoffed.

“The people who were chasing Auguste think we have something he took.”

She gave a derisive snort and raised her eyes to him. “And what am I supposed to do? Maybe you work for them. Maybe you killed him?”

“We didn’t kill him.”

“So you had someone do your dirty work.”

“No, we were just bystanders to whatever happened and now we’re being threatened with our lives.”

She snorted. “That was the police back there. Why didn’t you tell them?”

Piers sighed. It was a good question.

She gestured behind them with her hands. “Really. Go and tell them.”

He took a deep breath. “We can’t. We think they shot at us as well.”

“The police?” asked the driver, looking at them through the rearview mirror.

Sidney slapped the driver on the shoulder. “Watch the road.”

April had her head down and looked at Piers from the top of her eyes. “You can’t trust them? The police?”

“Maybe, maybe not. It was hard to tell. There was a lot of gunfire.”

The driver’s face appeared in the rearview mirror. “The shooting on the radio. You were there?”

“Do you mind?” Piers said, “Just drive.”

“But they’ve been talking about it on the radio. Bunch of people been shot at Gare de l’Est, and Notre Dame. Criminals, they said. They said some survived.”

April’s head shot up. “Who?”

“Who what?”

“Survived, for god’s sake.”

The driver shrugged. “I don’t know. Some of them. That’s all they said.”

April grabbed the driver’s shoulder. “We need to go there. Now.”

Piers eased April back into her seat. “We saw him. We were in the same taxi.”

“I don’t care. Some of them survived. He said so. He said it’s been on the radio.”

Piers shook his head.

She stared at him, long and hard. “You’re sure.”

He nodded.

“Are we still going to the airport?” the driver said.

Sidney slapped him, harder this time. “Just shut up and drive.”

April sank into the corner of the rear seat and began sobbing. Sidney tapped Piers on the shoulder and mouthed, “I should have sat in the back.” Piers couldn’t help but agree. The last thing he wanted was to deal with another crying woman. They emerged from the confines of Paris’ buildings and crossed the Seine. “Where are we?”

Sidney glanced along the river. “Austerlitz.”

“Which is?”

“A bridge.”

“Where?”

Sidney pointed. “Notre Dame’s over there.”

“Okay. We’ll get out here.”

“Here?” said the driver.

Piers glowered. “What is this, twenty questions? Yes. Here. Stop here.”

“Okay. Only you said the airport.”

“Well, we’ve changed our minds.”

“You said I’d get a tip.”

“Whatever.”

The taxi drew to a halt beside a line of cafés. Sidney eased April out of the taxi while Piers handed over the fare and promised tip.

Sidney wrapped her arm around April. “We should go somewhere quiet.”

Piers looked at the pair. “Let’s sit down for a minute, have a drink.”

“We stink,” said Sidney. “Big time.”

“We’ll sit outside. No one will notice.”

Piers found a free table in a quiet corner. They seated the silent April and angled themselves to have a view of the street. April kept her head down.

A waiter arrived, his nose screwed up to hold his breath. Sidney ordered three large