The Paris Option - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,24

building, which could be suspicious in itself. Criminals were known to be drawn back to the scene of an attack, although this man looked too old and disabled to have taken on the duties of a sneak bombing. He limped along, using the cane expertly, and found a seat at a cafeacute; directly across the street from Smith. There he took a copy of Le Monde from his pocket and, after the waiter brought coffee and pastry, unfurled it. He read as he sipped and ate, apparently with no interest in Smith. In fact, he never looked up from his newspaper again.

The second to arrive was the lumpy-faced young woman with the dark hair and nondescript appearance, who suddenly was walking past the cafeacute; not five feet from where Smith sat. She glanced directly at him and continued on without showing the faintest interest, as if he were simply empty space. Once past, she paused as if considering stopping for a drink, too. She seemed to dismiss the thought and moved on, disappearing into the crowded Htel Arcade.

The third person, the man who had been shopping with such concentration at the street vendor's cart, did not appear.

As he finished his beer, Smith replayed his observations of the tall old man and the nondescript womantheir facial features, the rhythm of their movements, the way they held their heads and used their hands and feet. He did not leave until he was certain he had memorized them.

Then he paid and moved briskly back along the boulevard toward the Pasteur meacute;tro station at the intersection with the rue de Vaugirard. The old man with the cane soon appeared behind, moving well for his age and apparent infirmity. Smith had seen him instantly. He monitored the fellow with his peripheral vision and continued to watch for anyone else who appeared suspicious.

It was time to use an old tradecraft trick: He ducked into the meacute;tro, watching. The man with the cane did not follow. Smith waited until a train pulled into the station, and then he joined the stream of passengers that was exiting back to the street. A block away, under the leaden sky, the old fellow was still walking along. Smith hurried after, keeping just close enough to observe, until the man turned into a bookstore with a gone to lunch sign in French posted in the glass door. Key in hand, he unlocked the door. Once inside, he turned the sign around to open, dropped his cane into a stand by the door, and shrugged out of his suit coat.

There was no point in pressing the situation, Smith decided. After all, the fellow did have a key. On the other hand, he wanted to make certain. So he stopped outside the big plate-glass window and watched as the man shoved his arms into a beige sweater-vest and methodically buttoned it from the top down. When the man finished, he took a seat on a high stool behind the counter, looked up, saw Smith, and smiled and gestured for him to come in. He obviously either owned or worked at the bookstore. Smith felt a stab of deep disappointment.

Still, someone had been surveilling him, and he had narrowed the potentials to the dark-haired woman or the man who had been checking out the street vendor's wares. In turn, whichever of the two it was, he or she had also recognized Smith's suspicions and exited the chase.

He gave the bookseller a friendly wave and hurried back to the meacute;tro station. But then, with a sinking feeling, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise again. Someone was still nearby, studying him. Frustrated, worried, he stood outside the station and gazed all around. He saw nothing. He had to lose his tail. He could not lead them to his meeting with the general. He turned and rushed down into the station.

In a doorway partially shielded by a bush, the dull-looking woman in the shopkeeper's black outfit scrutinized Smith as he carefully surveyed the area. Her hiding place was recessed and dark, which was perfect, since it allowed her dusky clothing to disappear into the gloom. She took care to keep her face far back in the shadow, because although she was tan, the paler color of her skin might reflect just enough light for the very-observant Smith to notice.

He looked uneasy and suspicious. He was handsome, with almost American Indian featureshigh cheekbones, a planed face, and very dark blue eyes. Right now

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