LACKING VIRTUES (46 page)

PART III

Chapter Thirty-Six

“Are you alive?” Sophie asked, pulling off her coat.

It was early Friday morning. Steven was still sprawled out on the divan in her office where he had spent the night. He sat up and stretched. It was good to see a friendly face after six hours alone with the demons of his imagination. “I’m alive, but I’ll feel a hell of a lot better when we have those guys on tape.”

“We all will, darling.” She tossed an overnight bag in his direction. He snared it in midair.

“What’s this?”

“Clothes,
articles de toilette
. I dropped by your flat on my way downstairs. I thought you’d enjoy getting clean before you got dirty.”

“Thanks, Sophie, but you shouldn’t have done that. There’s no use taking risks when we’re this close. I was going to go out and buy some stuff when the stores opened.”

“It was safe. I didn’t sleep a wink all night. You know how that old marble staircase of ours echoes. If you had had visitors, I would have known.”

“Well . . . thanks. Did you check my answering machine while you were there?”

“Of course, darling. There were no calls. Nicole must be convinced her father has bugged your line.”

“Yeah. So am I. I’m worried about her, Sophie. It doesn’t seem to me her dad would let her off with just a week or two of lounging around at her aunt’s. He probably has something horrible planned.”

“Perhaps, but he has a lot on his mind. By the time he gets around to you and Nicole, he’ll be in prison.”

“If I don’t blow it tonight.”

“You won’t. You’re going to have plenty of help. Warner will make sure they don’t send us a slouch. I’ve seen him in action. That’s the way he is.”

“I hope you’re right.” Steven walked to the window, groaning and stretching. A steady rain had begun to fall after their return from Bonn, and it was still coming down. Place Vendôme looked cold and forbidding in the sodden gray dawn.

The earth around Michelet’s country home would be muddy by now, he thought. If he left a thick trail of footprints on the cellar steps, he was a dead man. One more thing to worry about.

“Where’s that bitch, Monique?” he grumbled. “I could use a coffee.”

“I gave her the day off, Steven. Go get a shower in the john across the hall. I’ll have coffee and croissants waiting when you come back.”

***

He washed in the cramped stall, shaved, dressed in the khaki trousers and olive sweater Sophie had brought him. The sense of unreality that had plagued him during the night returned. In less than five hours he would be on the road to Fontainebleau.

When he opened the door to Sophie’s office, a man was sitting with her in the foyer looking at photographs. Steven felt like slapping himself. Things were happening! This was no dream. He could forget about his first worry. The agent was here!

“Come in, Steven,” Sophie said. “I’ve been bringing our guest up to date.”

The man was older, probably in his fifties. He wore a pin-striped gray suit that made him look better armed for battle in business than espionage. He stood and looked directly at Steven.

He was an agent all right. Forget the suit, his eyes told the story. They were bloodshot, intense, piercing. This was someone you didn’t want to piss off.

“I’m Frank Warner,” the man said, offering his hand.

Steven took it. “Warner? Isn’t that the name of our friend at the NTSB?”

“Same name, same person. You’ve done a great job. I don’t think we would ever have put the pieces together without you and Sophie.”

“Beginner’s luck on my part,” Steven said. “Sophie must have smelled this story without realizing it. She sent me in. I was just dozing on top of a crate of wine when they started to talk. So, Mr. Warner, when’s our agent going to show up?

“I’m afraid you’re looking at him,” Warner said. “There were problems. Let’s just say it was easier to come myself.”

Steven shook his head. “I can’t believe this. You had to come from Washington because the CIA thinks we’re full of shit?”

“That’s an accurate assessment.”

Sophie said, “It’s the William Fairchild phenomenon on a much more disheartening scale. No wonder Operation Litvyak got past them.”

“No wonder,” Warner murmured.

“Well, Jesus, thanks for coming,” Steven said, trying to hide his disappointment. Now he had a new worry. He had been counting on the agent to be armed and ready to defend him if they got into a tight spot.

Sophie patted the chair beside her. “Come sit down, Steven. You two get acquainted. Frank finished off the coffee, but I’m making another pot. I’ll be right back.”

She got up and disappeared into Monique’s tiny kitchen alcove, then stuck her head out the door. “And do me a favor,
messieurs
. Use first names. I can’t bear the thought of you two gorgeous men trapped together for hours in a dark wine cellar ‘Mr. LeConte-ing’ and ‘Mr. Warnering’ each other into terminal numbness.”

Sophie withdrew into the nook. Warner said, “She’s a pretty unique woman, isn’t she?”

Steven smiled. “Unique, magnificent, you name it. Before I met her, I thought a person had to choose between being successful or being human. I was wrong. Sophie’s both.”

Warner laughed drily. “She certainly is that. I could have used her in Washington.”

“Do you ever read her stuff?”

“Not often enough,” Warner said. “That’s going to change.”

Sophie returned a few minutes later with a fresh pot of coffee and a tray of hot croissants. She seemed different, more focused, more determined. Steven recognized the transformation. He’d seen it before, in the Jardin du Luxembourg.

She said, “We need to get organized these next hours. Suggestions on how we begin?” 

“Damned right,” Steven said. “Let’s begin by talking about guns. Remember how relieved you were when Frank told you he was sending us an agent?”

“Where are you going with this, Steven?”

“I think you know. You were relieved because that agent was going to be armed. Well, the agent isn’t here and we’re not armed. I don’t know about you, Frank, but I’d feel better if we were.”

“Steven,” Sophie said, “if you armed yourselves, you would only increase the risk of a tragedy. I’m sure Frank doesn’t know any more about guns than you do.”

“I’m from Nevada,” Warner said. “I grew up popping gophers from my stroller. I agree with your colleague.”

“I still think it’s a mistake,” Sophie said.

“Let me tell you something,” Warner went on. “I’ve seen the results of the crimes these men have committed. I’ve seen them up close. I’ve watched the charred, mutilated bodies of children being carried out of wreckages. I’ve pushed through the crowds of hysterical mourners at airports, all screaming for an explanation of why it had to happen. I’ve grappled with my own feelings of guilt for not being able to stop the carnage. I’m a bureaucrat by profession, but I’m also a man. These men have become my personal enemies. I’m going after them, and I’m not going to put myself in a position where I can’t defend myself. If Steven hadn’t brought up the subject of guns, I would have.”

“Therefore, Sophie,” Steven said, “we are asking you to visit your old friend, Chabrol.”

“Steven  –  ”

“Don’t be doctrinaire. This is war. You don’t send men into battle without arms.”

Warner said, “Sorry but Steven is right, Sophie. If you have a contact, help us out. It will allow us to concentrate on other aspects of our preparation.”

She looked at her hands.

“Come on, Sophie,” Steven said. “I know what you’re thinking but you didn’t get me into this. You don’t have to feel like you’ve taken an innocent boy turned him into a violent gun slinger. It’s not like that. What happened just happened. We’re here and we’ve got to move ahead. We don’t have a choice. We’re taking a risk tonight, and if we get caught we’ve got to be in a position to fight back. So please, Sophie, save us some trouble and some time. You can write about your moral misgivings when the job is done.”

  Sophie stood and made a single counter-clockwise tour of the foyer. When she came back, Steven could see she had been wrestling with herself.

She said, “You know, I hate the idea of combatting violence with violence. But in this instance I grudgingly admit you’ve got a point. It would be unfair of me to stand on the sidelines and ask you to go into that basement defenseless. Now, Frank, you are probably wondering who Chabrol is.”

“I was going to ask.”

Sophie sat down and sighed. “I did a piece on the illicit arms trade in Europe a couple of years ago. Chabrol is a long story, and I’m still not sure I did the right thing. Let’s just say I feared for my life and printed more selectively as a result. In other words, I did the man and his associates a favor. He knows  it. I think he would be willing to return the favor. In fact, I’m sure he would.”

“That would be helpful,” Warner said. “Very helpful.”

“All right. You’ve convinced me. I’ll do it.”

“Brava, Sophie!”

“Let’s hope so. Steven, go out and buy the things the two of you will need to sneak into Michelet’s place in this weather. In the meantime, I’ll do what I would never have thought any person or situation could induce me to do. I’ll get your guns.”

“We appreciate it,” Warner said.

“All right, subject closed. Frank, you mentioned you had some prep work to do on your listening equipment. You can do that here while we’re away. Anything else?”

“Food,” Steven said.

Sophie said, “I’ll take care of that, too. Now, what about transportation? Did you rent a car, Frank?”

“A Peugeot 305.”

“Will that get you where you need to go, Steven?”

“No way. We’ll have four of five miles of overgrown tractor path to cover, very secluded, very rough. It doesn’t look like it’s been used for decades. It narrows down to a couple feet where new trees have grown. There are holes all over the place you have to avoid. There were stretches I had to get off and walk even before this rain. We’ll have to take my Harley.”

“That’s all right,” Warner said. “The point is to get there.” He glanced at his watch. “When do we need to leave?”

“Noon,” Steven said. “I’d like to be in the basement before the search starts, not during.”

Sophie said, “What about the possibility of arriving
after
the search? Have you thought of that, Steven? The way you described it, they came, rummaged around and left. Why be there when they are?” 

“I’ve thought about it, Sophie. There’s a reason we need to arrive early. Michelet comes during the search because he’s a suspicious bastard. Doesn’t even trust his own searchers. When they take off, he stays. If we wait to sneak in, it means we’ll have to cross his lawn with him on the premises sniffing in all directions.