again how lousy his own clothes looked. They were dirty and smoke-streaked, and he had no idea whether he had managed to clean his face in the stream. He was already attracting the wrong kind of attention, something he definitely did not want. He still had his wallet, and as soon as he called Fred Klein, he would buy new clothes.
He turned, orienting himself, and walked toward the place St-Andre. That was where he found what he needed firsta public phone booth and dialed Fred Klein.
Klein's voice was surprised. "So you are alive?"
"You sound disappointed."
"Don't get sentimental, Colonel," Klein said dryly. "We'll hug later. There are a few things going on that you should know at once." He described the latest electronic disasterthe blinded satellites. "I'd hoped the molecular computer was destroyed, and all we had was a nasty malfunction."
"You didn't believe that for a second. The damage is too widespread."
"Call it a naive hope."
"Did Randi Russell get away before the missile hit?"
"We wouldn't have known what really happened in Algeria if she hadn't. She's back in Paris. Where are you? Bring me up to date."
So Randi had made it. Jon slowly let his breath out. He reported the events since the missile strike and what he had learned.
Klein swore. "So you think the Crescent Shield's a front, too?"
"It makes sense. I can't see Darius Bonnard as an Islamic terrorist, no matter his Algerian connection. But he was in the right place at the right time to have made that surreptitious phone call from NATO. He or Chambord must've killed the Crescent Shield pilot at the chalet before we got there, and then they took off with Theacute;regrave;se. Abu Auda was stunned. Outraged. Worried whether Mauritania was still alive. The way I read it, this was no sudden mutiny of the weak. This was the strong taking over as planned."
"You think Emile Chambord is behind everything?"
"Maybe, or maybe not. It could be Captain Bonnard, and he's holding Chambord and using the daughter as a lever," Jon said, worrying about Theacute;regrave;se. He stared out at the street, watching for Abu Auda and his men. "Have you heard anything about Peter Howell and Marty?"
"According to my friends at Langley, they're all in Paris. Marty's awake."
Jon smiled. What a relief to know Marty was back. "Did he say anything useful about Emile Chambord?"
"Unfortunately, nothing we didn't already know. I'll have Randi sent to pick you up."
"Tell her I'll be waiting at the Fort de la Bastille at the top of the cable car lift."
Klein was silent again. "You know, Colonel, there could be someone we don't know about yet behind Chambord and Bonnard. It could even be the daughter."
Jon considered the idea. Not Theacute;regrave;se, no. He did not believe that, but the rest of what Klein had said struck a chord. An idea began to form in his mind. An idea he had to chase down fast.
"Get me out of here, Fred."
Chapter Thirty-two
Paris, France
In naval headquarters on the place de la Concorde, Senior Captain Liberal Tassini toyed with the fine Mont Blanc pen on his desk as his steady gaze took in Peter Howell. "Odd you should be here asking that, Peter. May I inquire exactly what caused your interest?"
"Let's just say MI6 requested I look into the matter. I believe it may have something to do with a small problem involving one of our junior officers."
"And what would that small problem be?"
"Between you and me, Libby, I told them to just go through regular channels, but it appears it involves the son of someone important." Peter ducked his head, pretending embarrassment. "I'm only a messenger boy. One of the reasons I did a bunk from the service, eh? Temperament and all that. Just do me the favor of a simple answer, and I'll be off the hook and out of your sight."
"Can't be done, bon ami. Your question touches on a somewhat delicate and complicated situation of our own."
"You don't say. Well, puts my little query in its place, doesn't it. Sorry, Ihellip;"
Captain Tassini twirled the pen again on his desk. "On the contrary.
I would actually like to know exactly how this, ah, junior officer came to be concerned with whether a recent meeting on the De Gaulle was authorized or unauthorized."
"Wellhellip;" Peter chuckled conspiratorially. "All right, Libby. Seems the lad has put in a chit for expenses incurred for having attended such a meeting as a replacement pilot for one of our generals. His paymaster simply wants to know if the