She looked up at Richard and saw the flicker of sympathy in his eyes. He believes it, too, she thought. Suddenly she resented him simply for being here, for hearing the most shameful secret of her family.
They heard a soft beeping. Daumier reached under his jacket and frowned at his pocket pager. I am afraid I will have to leave, he said.
What about that classified file? asked Jordan. You havent said anything about Delphi.
Well speak of it later. This bombing, you understand-it is a crisis situation. Daumier slid out of the booth and picked up his briefcase. Perhaps tomorrow? In the meantime, try to enjoy your stay in Paris, all of you. Oh, and if you dine here, I would recommend the duckling. It is excellent. With a nod of farewell, he turned and swiftly walked out of the restaurant.
We just got the royal runaround, muttered Jordan in frustration. He drops a bomb in our laps, then he scurries for cover, never answering our questions.
I think that was his plan from the start, said Beryl. Tell us something so horrifying, well be afraid to pursue it. Then our questions will stop. She looked at Richard. Am I right?
He met her gaze without wavering. Why are you asking me?
Because you two obviously know each other well. Is this the way Daumier usually operates?
Claudes not one to spill secrets. But he also believes in helping out old friends, and your uncle Hughs a good friend of his. Im sure Claudes keeping your best interests at heart.
Old friends, thought Beryl. Daumier and Uncle Hugh and Richard Wolf-all of them linked together by some shadowy past, a past they would not talk about. This was how it had been, growing up at Chetwynd. Mysterious men in limousines dropping in to visit Hugh. Sometimes Beryl would hear snatches of conversation, would pick up whispered names whose significance she could only guess at. Yurchenko. Andropov. Baghdad. Berlin. She had learned long ago not to ask questions, never to expect answers. Not something to bother your pretty head about, Hugh would tell her.
This time, she wouldnt be put off. This time she demanded answers.
The waiter came to the table with the menus. Beryl shook her head. We wont be staying, she said.
Youre not interested in supper? asked Richard. Claude says its an excellent restaurant.
Did Claude ask you to show up? she demanded. Keep us well fed and entertained so we wont trouble him?
Im delighted to keep you well fed. And, if youre willing, entertained. He smiled at her then, a smile with just a spark of mischief. Looking into his eyes, she found herself wavering on the edge of temptation. Have supper with me, she read in his smile. And afterward, who knows? Anythings possible.
Slowly she sat back in the booth. Well have supper with you, on one condition.
Whats that?
You play it straight with us. No dodging, no games.
Ill try.
Why are you in Paris?
Claude asked me to consult. As a personal favor. The summits over now, so my schedules open. Plus, I was curious.
About the bombing?
He nodded. Cosmic Solidarity is a new one for me. I try to keep up with new terrorist groups. Its my business. He held a menu out to her and smiled. And that, Miss Tavistock, is the unadulterated truth.
She met his gaze and saw no flicker of avoidance in his eyes. Still, her instincts told her there was something more behind that smile, something yet unsaid.
You dont believe me, he said.
How did you guess?
Does this mean youre not having supper with me?
Up until that moment, Jordan had sat watching them, his gaze playing Ping-Pong. Now he cut in impatiently. We are definitely having supper. Because Im hungry, Beryl, and Im not moving from this booth until Ive eaten.
With a sigh of resignation, Beryl took the menu. I guess that answers that. Jordies stomach has spoken.
Amiel Fochs telephone rang at precisely seven-fifteen.
I have a new task for you, said the caller. Its a matter of some urgency. Perhaps this time around, youll prove successful.
The criticism stung, and Amiel Foch, with twenty-five years experience in the business, barely managed to suppress a retort. The caller held the purse strings; he could afford to hurl insults. Foch had his retirement to consider. Requests for his services were few and far between these days. Ones reflexes, after all, did not improve with age.
Foch said, with quiet control, I planted the device as you instructed. It went off at the time specified.
And all it did was make a lot of bloody noise. The target was scarcely hurt.
She did the unexpected. One cannot control such things.
Lets hope this time you keep things under better control.
What is the name?
Two names. A brother and sister, Beryl and Jordan Tavistock. Theyre staying at the Ritz. I want to know where they go. Who they see.
Nothing more?
For now, just surveillance. But things may change at any time, depending on what they learn. With any luck, theyll simply turn around and run home to England.
If they do not?
Then well take further action.
What about Mme St. Pierre? Do you wish me to try again?
The caller paused. No, he said at last, she can wait. For now, the Tavistocks take priority.