LACKING VIRTUES (56 page)

His car was parked on a side street. He’d written down the name, but couldn’t recall it. He was about to tell the cabby to let him out when he glimpsed a lone man walking through the shadows on the far side of the square. The man wore an informal coat like the one Claussen had worn when he arrived at Michelet’s. His hair was combed straight back, and he carried himself with the same confident insouciance. Could it be?

“Pull in that alley,” said Warner. “Hurry.”

“The sir wakes up like a watch dog. Will do, sir.”

The cab turned off the square and stopped. Warner didn’t have change. He paid the cabby three times the amount on his meter and got out dragging his pack.

“Don’t drive back through the square, understand? Understand? Drive off slowly. Get going.”

“Will not drive there, sir.”

Warner raced to Place Maubert. Too late. The man was gone. He heard an engine start, heard a car pulling away. And then the night was calm.

He let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. That was that. He would never know if the man was who he appeared  to be or a figment of Warner’s fevered imagination; never know what he would have done if it
had
been Claussen.

He was turning around to go when the clatter of debris raining down a wall distracted him. He noticed light in the third story flat of Sophie’s apartment building. Steven’s flat, if he wasn’t mistaken.

He felt an intense burst of annoyance. Could that careless bugger have gone up there? If so he was trying to get himself killed ahead of schedule. His irritation level was climbing toward the red line when he heard the clatter of debris again. It seemed to have come from near Steven’s balcony.

He stared at the dark walls and windows to either side. He spotted a shadowy figure on a narrow ledge, making its way toward the light. He approached cautiously, remaining across the street, alert for new arrivals in the square.

When the figure came within a few feet of the wrought-iron balcony rail, he could see that it was a girl. She seemed to be intent on sneaking into Steven’s flat. She slipped, almost fell, managed to grab hold of the rail. When she hoisted herself on to the balcony, the light from the door illuminated her face. He instantly recognized Nicole Michelet from the photographs Sophie had shown him that morning.

He bolted for the apartment door. It was locked. He hit the button beside the name LeConte and waited for a voice to answer him through the tiny speaker. No response, so he began to talk to the microphone. “Nicole, I am a friend of Steven’s. Do you understand English? You must let me in. It’s important for Steven. Let me in!”

Nothing. “Nicole, listen to me. Danger! You must get out of there. You will be harmed. Now, please, let me in!”

Finally there came a click as the heavy door unlocked. Warner ran up the loud marble staircase to the third floor. Steven’s door was unlocked. He didn’t wait for an invitation to go inside.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the body sprawled in a pool of blood. Nicole cowered against the wall in terror. He bent over Sophie and felt for a pulse in her throat. No good. She was dead.

“Claussen,” he murmured as he walked to Nicole. “He was here. You’re lucky to be alive.”

She was too shaken to speak or to move. He put an arm around her. “Come, Nicole, we must go. Steven is waiting.”

“Steven . . . Steven . . . he is okay?”

“Yes. He’s in his studio on Rue Monge. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a key?”

“No.”

“Come.”

“But we cannot . . . we cannot leave her here like this. We must call someone.”

“It’s too dangerous. Nicole, you must come with me now, very calmly, as if nothing has happened.”

Warner turned out the lights and extended his arm. “Come.”

***

Steven showered and dressed in the few things he kept at his Rue Monge studio, the tiny sanctum he’d told Sophie would someday produce great things. Well, at least it was producing a place to hide. He had just begun to brainstorm on his options for the near future when the buzzer from the street entrance sounded. It sent a shock through his gut. He grabbed his pistol from the table and paced.

Who the hell was it? Only a few friends knew he worked here. He hadn’t registered with the police, so he didn’t see how Michelet and his buddies could have found the place yet. And if they had, they wouldn’t have bothered to buzz. One of those SDECE guys would have picked the lock down below, and they would have come bursting in like a pack of mad dogs.

Which meant it was probably Warner. He must have telephoned Sophie and gotten the address.

Well, he appreciated Warner’s concern. But this was going too far. Warner would try to convince him to escape, which was a waste of everyone’s time. Warner needed to get the hell out of France before someone figured out he was here; and he, Steven, needed to figure out how to get in touch with Nicole. Two agendas, as he had said on the bike.

He went to the window and peeked through the shutters. It was Warner, all right. Steven could see his rental Peugeot parked near the corner. The odd thing was, he could also see Warner sitting behind the wheel. So who had buzzed?

He craned his sore neck for a better view of the sidewalk down below. When he saw Nicole, his heart skipped a beat. He ran down the stairs and opened. She fell into his arms, weeping, trembling and too upset to tell him what had happened. He held her close and stroked her hair and didn’t push her to talk. There would be time. For now he was just grateful and they were together again.

Warner knocked a few minutes later. The three of them went upstairs to the cramped studio. Steven was ready to talk now, to find out what had happened, but Warner wouldn’t let him. He said, “Sit down. We have to tell you something and it isn’t good. When I got to Place Maubert to pick up my car, a man who looked like Claussen was walking across the square. He disappeared before I could be sure it was him. Then I saw Nicole climbing onto your balcony. I went to your apartment. Claussen had been there. Sophie was dead.”

“It was my fault,” Nicole cried. “I came to see you, Steven. I ran away from Grenoble and came to see you. I decided we should  do what you said and go live somewhere else. She heard me at your door. She came down to keep me company.”

Steven couldn’t breathe. He sat at the table, dumbstruck.

“Sophie’s dead?” he whispered numbly.

“Yes,” Warner said. “I’m sorry. She was a great lady.”

“Nicole – ”

“Yes, Steven.”

“Nicole . . . you were there?”

She nodded between sobs.

“How did you escape?” 

Steven realized he was speaking English to her for the first time. He didn’t feel like switching to French.

Nicole struggled to regain her composure. “I went out on the . . . how do you say, Mr. Warner?”

“Ledge.”

“Yes. I was in your room, Steven. I was taking a rest. When I woke up, the man was out there with Sophie. I wanted to call but there was no telephone in the bedroom. I went out on the balcony to find help, but there was no one in the square. I should have done something. I was a coward. I was . . . afraid.”

“You did the right thing,” Warner said. “If you had gone into the living room, he would have killed you, too.”

Steven was incredulous. “Didn’t he come looking for you?”

“Yes. That’s when I went out on the ledge. That terrible man, he came into your room. Then he came out on the balcony. He almost saw me but I got around the corner of the building first.”

Steven slapped the table. He was crying and he didn’t care. “Okay, Nicole,” he blurted out, “this is it, now you’re going to hear it all. About me, about your father, about us. I haven’t been able to tell you. I might not be able to tell you tomorrow. Right now I can tell you.”

Nicole stood beside him. She put an arm around his head and stroked his hair. “Steven, it’s okay. Sophie told me everything. She told me how you and I met. She told me about the terrible things my father has done. Steven, she tried to save our lives. I heard her tell the man after he had done horrible things to her that she would tell him the truth. You know what she told him?”

Steven was too choked up to answer. He shook his head.

“She told him you were going to Grenoble. She told him I was with my aunt. But I was in the bedroom, Steven, and she knew you weren’t going to Grenoble because she was waiting for you to come home.”

Steven just shook his head.

“It’s okay,” Nicole said. “It’s okay what you did, Steven. It’s good someone checked up on my father. If the other part is true, I don’t care anymore that you deceived me.”

“The other part?” he whispered.

“That you love me.”

“Nicole, it’s true. I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it’s true.”

Nicole leaned over and hugged him. They wept together. He couldn’t believe it. Sophie had not only sent Claussen on a wild goose chase; she had given him one last very special gift. She had solved his dilemma for him. It was too much for any one person to do. He was devastated. She was the light of his life. He could not accept that she was gone.

Warner said, “Steven, I don’t mean to be insensitive, but the rest of your life isn’t going to be long enough to crow about if we don’t get out of France. There’s nothing holding you here now. Both of you, come with me.”

Steven stood up and walked in a daze to the window. The pain he felt just kept getting worse.

Then, deep down where it hurt, he felt the stirrings of a new emotion being born, a white-hot rage like nothing he had ever felt. What did Warner have in mind for him
after
they got out of France? Steven wasn’t going to get involved in maybe propositions and half-ass scenarios. He wasn’t going to allow this one to be turned over to the William Fairchilds of the world. He would go back to the States when he had proof, the sort of proof that would assure that Claussen and the others went down.

He said, “I’m not going back to the US with you, Frank. I want you to know that.”

“Then what the hell are you going to do? Hole up here until they find you?”

“No. I’m going to finish the job we started and I fucked up. The evidence we need might be in Claussen’s house. I’m going to have a look.”

“You don’t know where Claussen lives.”

“I do.”

“How is that possible?”

“Sophie. She made a lot of things possible.”

“Where
does
he live?”

“In a farmhouse in the eastern part of Germany. Here’s what you can do for me. You can give us a ride to the Air Force base in Germany and get Nicole some sort of protection there. I’ll do the  rest. I’ll get you your evidence.”

Warner said, “Steven, I’ve got a lot riding on this one, too. I think our chances will be better if we work as a team. Grab every map of Europe you’ve got in this place and let’s get out of here.”