Beryl gave a sigh of relief. So thats why we were followed. And you had me scared out of my wits.
You should be scared, said Richard. The man following us wasnt working for Daumier.
You just said-
Daumier had only one agent assigned to surveillance tonight. That woman, Colette. Apparently she stayed with Jordan.
Then who was following us? demanded Beryl.
I dont know.
There was a silence. Then Jordan asked peevishly, Have I missed something? Why are we all being followed? And when did Richard join the fun?
Richard, said Beryl tightly, hasnt been completely honest with us.
About what?
He neglected to mention that he was here in Paris in 1973. He knew Mum and Dad.
Jordan s gaze at once shot to Richards face. Is that why youre here now? he asked quietly. To prevent us from learning the truth?
No, said Richard. Im here to see that the truth doesnt get you both killed.
Could the truth really be that dangerous?
Its got someone worried enough to have you both followed.
Then you dont believe it was a simple murder and suicide, said Jordan.
If it was that simple-if it was just a case of Bernard shooting Madeline and then taking his own life-no one would care about it after all these years. But someone obviously does care. And he-or she-is keeping a close watch on your movements.
Beryl, strangely silent, sat down on the bed. Her hair, which shed gathered back with pins, was starting to loosen, and silky tendrils had drifted down her neck. All at once Richard was struck by her uncanny resemblance to Madeline. It was the hairstyle and the watered-silk dress. He recognized that dress now-it was her mothers. He shook himself to dispel the notion that he was looking at a ghost.
Beryl, strangely silent, sat down on the bed. Her hair, which shed gathered back with pins, was starting to loosen, and silky tendrils had drifted down her neck. All at once Richard was struck by her uncanny resemblance to Madeline. It was the hairstyle and the watered-silk dress. He recognized that dress now-it was her mothers. He shook himself to dispel the notion that he was looking at a ghost.
He decided it was time to tell the truth, and nothing but. I never did believe it, he said. Not for a second did I think Bernard pulled that trigger.
Slowly Beryl looked up at him. What he saw in her gaze-the wariness, the mistrust-made him want to reach out to her, to make her believe in him. But trust wasnt something she was about to give him, not now. Perhaps not ever.
If he didnt pull the trigger, she asked, then who did?
Richard moved to the bed. Gently he touched her face. I dont know, he said. But Im going to help you find out.
After Richard left, Beryl turned to her brother. I dont trust him, she said. Hes told us too many lies.
He didnt lie to us exactly, Jordan observed. He just left out a few facts.
Oh, right. He conveniently neglects to mention that he knew Mum and Dad. That he was here in Paris when they died. Jordie, for all we know, he couldve pulled the trigger!
He seems quite chummy with Daumier.
So?
Uncle Hugh trusts Daumier.
Meaning we should trust Richard Wolf? She shook her head and laughed. Oh, Jordie, you must be more exhausted than you realize.
And you must be more smitten than you realize, he said. Yawning, he crossed the floor toward his own suite.
Whats that supposed to mean? she demanded.
Only that your feelings for the man obviously run hot and heavy. Because youre fighting them every inch of the way.
She pursued him to the connecting door. Hot? she said incredulously. Heavy?
There, you see? He breathed a few loud pants and grinned. Sweet dreams, baby sister. Im glad to see youre back in circulation.
Then he closed the door on her astonished face.
When Richard arrived at Daumiers flat, he found the Frenchman still awake but already dressed in his bathrobe and slippers. The latest reports on the bombing of the St. Pierre residence were laid out across his kitchen table, along with a plate of sausage and a glass of milk. Forty years with French Intelligence hadnt altered his preference for working in close proximity to a refrigerator.
Waving at the reports, Daumier said, It is all a puzzle to me. A Semtex explosive planted under the bed. A timing mechanism set for 9:10-precisely when the St. Pierres would be watching Maries favorite television program. It has all the signs of an inside operation, except for one glaring mistake-Philippe was in England. He looked at Richard. Does it not strike you as an inconceivable blunder?
Terrorists are usually brighter than that, admitted Richard. Maybe they intended it only as a warning. A statement of purpose. We can reach you if we want to, that sort of thing.
I still have no information on this Cosmic Solidarity League. Wearily Daumier ran his hands through his hair. The investigation, it goes nowhere.
Then maybe you can turn your attention for a moment to my little problem.
Problem? Ah, yes. The Tavistocks. Daumier sat back and smiled at him. Hughs niece is more than you can handle, Richard?
Someone else was definitely tailing us tonight, said Richard. Not just your agent, Colette. Can you find out who it was?