The Apocalypse Watch (31 page)

For Paris’s Zero One understood what the others did not; as their leader he was to carry out the orders. If a Blitzkrieger failed once, he was severely reprimanded; if he failed twice, he was shot, another in training given his or her place. If Sacré-Coeur failed, he knew who would be eliminated—the thirty-year-old Zero Five, for a start; his resentment of his younger superior was surfacing too frequently … and he had strenuously objected to the selection of the unit that had disappeared. “One’s a baby who simply likes to kill, and the other’s a bull head; he takes too many risks! Let
me
handle it!” Those had been Zero Five’s words, spoken in front of Zero Six. Both were heading out to Sacré-Coeur; both would be executed if the kill failed. Zero One, Paris, could not allow another blemish on his record. He
had
to be brought into the inner circle of the Brotherhood; he had to gain the respect of the true leaders of the movement, of the new
Führer
himself, and pay his obeisance with all his heart and soul. For he believed, he truly believed.

He would take his camera out to the Bois de Boulogne, snapping enough night photographs to prove he was there, the proof in the camera itself as it imprinted the date and the time of each picture. It was merely a cover, if he ever needed one, which he doubted.

The telephone rang, startling the young superior Blitzkrieger. He picked it up.

“The code’s right,” said the female operator, “it’s Malasol caviar on the line.”

“
Herr Doktor—
”

“You haven’t called!” cried Gerhardt Kroeger. “I’ve been here over three hours and you haven’t
called
me.”

“Only because we are refining the strategy. If my subordinates do not miscalculate, we may achieve the objective,
mein Herr
. I have orchestrated it down to the last detail.”

“Your
subordinates
? Why not
you
?”

“A contradictory piece of information was received, sir,
one that may be far more dangerous and possibly equally productive. I have decided to take the risk myself.”

“You’re not making sense!”

“Nor can I over the telephone.”

“Why
not
? The enemy hasn’t the slightest idea who I am, or that I’m even here, so the hotel’s switchboard could hardly be compromised. I demand to know what’s happening!”

“There are two situations converging within the hour. Tell Bonn that Zero One, Paris, has used all of his talents to control both, but he cannot be in two places at once. Since he cannot, he’s chosen to take the highest risk. That’s all I can tell you,
mein Herr
. If I do not survive, think well of me. I must go.”

“Yes … yes, of course.”

The young neo-revolutionary slammed down the phone. No matter what happened, he was covered. He would have a long, leisurely dinner at the Au Coin de la Famille, then stroll to the main fountain in the Bois de Boulogne, take useless photographs, and return to the Avignon Warehouses, accepting whatever took place. Either the credit for the kill, or the death of two Blitzkrieger executed for incompetence.

He truly believed.

Drew moved about the Bois de Boulogne’s glistening fountain, bathed in floodlights from the waters below, and meandered through the evening strollers, looking for a face he knew. He had arrived at the rendezvous shortly before eight-thirty; it was now nearly nine o’clock, and he had seen no one he recognized, nor had anyone approached him. Had he misread Karin’s instructions? Had the reversed words presumed an acknowledged reversal on the part of those tapping her phone, and thus were they to be taken literally? No, that made no sense. Karin’s Amsterdam years notwithstanding, they did not know each other well enough to play cover-recover games; they had no history of intuitive communication under stress. Latham looked at his watch; it was 9:03. He would circle the area once more, then return to the Maison Rouge.

“
Américain!
” He spun around at the sound. It was Karin, her face crowned by a blond wig, her right hand bandaged. “Walk to your left,
quickly
, as if I’d bumped into you. There’s a man taking photographs on the right. Meet me on the north path.”

Latham did as he was told, relieved by knowing she was there but concerned by her words. He circled his way in the lackadaisical rhythm of the fountain crowds until he reached the flagstone path to his extreme right. He entered it, walked up the tree-lined tunnel thirty or forty feet, and waited. Two minutes later Karin arrived.… As if by an accident neither anticipated, they fell into each other’s arms, holding one another, not long, but long enough.

“I’m sorry,” said De Vries, pushing herself gently away and uselessly brushing her blond wig with her bandaged right hand.

“I’m not,” Drew interrupted, smiling. “I think I’ve wanted to do that for a couple of days now.”

“Do what?”

“Hold you.”

“I was simply pleased to see that you were all right.”

“I’m all right.”

“That’s very nice.”

“It was also nice to hold you.” Latham laughed softly. “Look, lady, you put the idea in my head. You were the one who said your excuse at the embassy was that you found me attractive, et cetera, et cetera.”

“It was not a self-fulfilling wish, Drew. It
was
an excuse, strategically employed.”

“Come on, I’m not Quasimodo, am I?”

“No, you’re a rather large, not ungainly fellow who, I’m sure, many women find quite attractive.”

“But not you.”

“My concerns lie elsewhere.”

“You mean I’m not Freddie—‘Freddie de V,’ the incomparable.”

“No one could be Freddie, the good
or
the ugly.”

“Does that mean I’m still in the race?”

“What race?”

“For your affections, maybe, as temporary and as little as they may be.”

“Are you talking about sleeping with me?”

“Hell, that’s down the road. Remember, I’m an American from New England. Way down the road, lady.”

“You’re also a prevaricator.”

“A what?”

“I won’t say a liar, that’s too harsh.”

“
What?
”

“You’re also a brutal man who smashes other men into whatever it’s called in hockey matches. Oh, yes, I’ve heard. Harry told me.”

“Only when they got in my way. Never gratuitously.”

“Who made those decisions?”

“I did, I guess.”

“My point is made. You’re a belligerent individual.”

“What the hell has that got to do with anything?”

“Only, at the moment, I’m grateful that you are.”

“What?”

“The man with the camera, at the other side of this fountain.”

“What about him? People take pictures of Paris at night. Toulouse-Lautrec painted them, today they take photos.”

“No, he’s a neo, I feel it, I
know
it.”

“How?”

“The way he stands, the way he’s so … so aggressive.”

“That’s not a lot to go on.”

“Then why is he here? How many people really take pictures at night in the Bois de Boulogne?”

“You’ve got a point. Where is he?”

“Directly across from us—or he was. On the south path.”

“Stay here.”

“No. I’ll go with you.”

“Goddammit, do as I say.”

“You cannot order me!”

“You don’t have a gun, and even if you did, you couldn’t fire it. Your hand’s all wrapped up.”

“I
do
have a weapon, and if you were more alert, you’d know I’m left-handed.”

“What?”

“Let’s go.”

Together they raced through the trees until they reached the south path that led to the illuminated fountain. The man taking photographs was still there, ramrod-straight and snapping what seemed to be random shots of the strollers circling the fountain. Silently, Latham approached, his hand gripping the automatic in his belt. “You get your kicks taking pictures of people who don’t know they’re being photographed,” said Drew, tapping the man on the shoulder.

The Blitzkrieger whipped around at his touch, staring at Drew in the dim light, his eyes bulging. “
You!
” he cried gutturally. “But no,
not
the same! Who
are
you?”

“I’ve got one for
you
.” Latham grabbed the man by the throat, hurling him into the trunk of a tree. “
Kroeger!
” he shouted. “Who’s Gerhardt Kroeger?”

The neo recovered quickly, instantly kicking his boot up into Drew’s groin; Latham leapt backward, avoiding the blow, and smashed the barrel of his automatic into the Nazi’s face. “You son of a bitch, you were looking for me,
weren’t
you?”

“
Nein!
” screamed the neo, blood spreading across his face, partially blinding him. “You are not the man in the photograph!”

“But someone like me, right? Same kind of face, sort of,
right
?”

“You are
crazy
!” shrieked the Nazi, leveling a lethal chop to Drew’s neck; Latham gripped the wrist and twisted it violently counterclockwise. “I was only taking photographs!” The man fell into the bushes.

“Now that we’ve established that,” said Drew breathlessly, straddling the neo, then suddenly crashing his knee into the man’s ribcage, “let’s talk about Kroeger!” Latham pressed the barrel of the automatic into the flesh between the Nazi’s eyes. “You tell me or you’ve got a tunnel in your head!”

“I am prepared to die!”

“That’s nice, because you’re about to. You’ve got five seconds, Adolf.… One, two, three … four—”

“
Nein!
… He’s here in Paris. He must find
Sting
!”

“And you thought I was Sting, correct?”

“You are not the same man!”

“You’re damned right I’m not.
Sit
up!”

Where it came from, Drew would never know, but before he could adjust, a large pistol was in the neo’s right hand. Without any sound preceding it, a loud gunshot suddenly came from behind them; the Nazi’s head snapped back, blood flowing from his neck. Karin de Vries had saved Latham’s life. She ran down the path to him. “Are you all right?” she cried.

“Where did he get the
gun
?” asked a shaken, bewildered Drew.

“The same place you got yours,” answered De Vries.

“What?”

“The belt. You grabbed him and told him to sit up; that’s when I saw him reaching under his jacket.”

“
Thank
you—”

“Don’t thank me,
do
something. People are running away from the fountain. Soon the police will be here.”

“Come on!” ordered Latham, shoving the automatic into his belt and pulling the cellular phone from his inside pocket. “Into the trees—way into.” Awkwardly, they raced through roughly sixty feet of dark foliage when Drew held up his hand. “This’ll do,” he said, out of breath.

“Where did you get that?” asked Karin, pointing at the barely visible outline of the telephone in Latham’s hands.

“The Antinayous,” replied Drew, squinting and touching the buttons in the dim, filtered light from the fountain. “They’re very high-tech.”

“Not when anyone can scan into a mobile phone’s frequency, although in emergencies, I suppose—”

“
Stanley?
” said Latham, cutting her off. “Christ, it happened again! The Bois de Boulogne; a neo was covering the area, sent to take me out.”

“
And?
”

“He’s dead, Stosh, Karin shot him when he was about to blow my head off.… But, Stanley, listen to me. He said Kroeger was here in Paris, here to find Sting!”

“What’s your situation?”

“We’re in the woods off a path, maybe twenty or thirty yards from the body.”

“Now, you listen to me,” said Witkowski harshly. “If you can do it without running into the police—hell, even if you risk running into them—pick that bastard’s pockets clean and get out of there.”

“Like I did with Harry.…” Drew’s voice dropped to a painful whisper.

“Do it
for
Harry now. If what you say about this Kroeger isn’t second-hand nonsense, that corpse is our only link to him.”

“For a moment he thought I was Harry; he’s got a photograph, he said.”

“You’re wasting time!”

“Suppose the police arrive …?”

“Use your well-known bullshit officialese to talk your way out of it. If that doesn’t work, I’ll take care of it later, although I’d rather not go by the book on this. Get going!”

“I’ll call you later.”

“Make it sooner rather than later.”

“Come on,” said Latham, grabbing Karin’s right wrist above the bandage and heading for the path.

“Back
there
?” cried De Vries, stunned.

“Our colonel’s orders. We’ve got to move fast—”

“But the police!”

“I know, so even faster.… I’ve got it! You stay on the path, and if the police come, act frightened, which won’t take much talent if you’re anything like me, and tell them your boyfriend stepped into the woods to take a leak.”

“Not impossible,” conceded Karin, holding on and dodging the trees and the underbrush with Latham. “More American than French, but not impossible.”

“I’ll drag our would-be killer into the woods and sweep
him clean. He also has a better watch than mine; I’ll take that too.”

They reached the path, the fountain below now practically deserted, only a few morbidly curious observers scattered about the borders. Several kept glancing down the other paths, obviously expecting the police. Drew pulled the corpse feetfirst into the brush and went through the pockets, removing everything that was in them. He did not bother to look for the weapon that came within a second of ending his life; it would tell them nothing. Finished, he rushed back to the path and Karin as the shouts came from below.

“
Les gendarmes, les gendarmes! De l’autre côté!
”

“
Où?
”

“
Où donc?
”

Fortunately, in answer to the two police officers’ demands of
where
“on the other side,” the remaining civilians pointed in various directions, including several shadowed paths. Frustrated, the policemen split and raced down different paths. It was enough; Latham and De Vries ran across the open fountain and up the north path again until it leveled out, and they found themselves in the splendor of summer gardens surrounding a small man-made pond where white swans paddled majestically under the wash of floodlights. They spotted an empty bench, and with very little breath in either of their lungs, sat down, their spines slumping against the back slats. Karin tore the blond wig from her head and shoved it into her purse, shaking her hair loose.