“Three, go,” he radioed.
“Trouble on its way across the field from one-eight.”
“ETA?”
“Under five minutes.”
“Understand,” Boorsch responded. “One?”
“Clear.”
“Two?”
“Clear.”
Boorsch laid the walkie-talkie down and went to the rear of the van where he grabbed the binoculars and scanned the field in the vicinity of the end of north-south runway.
A jeep was just crossing the runway itself.
He turned the glasses toward the Swissair flight. The boarding tunnel had still not been withdrawn. There was time. But not much of it, he thought as he laid the binoculars down and pulled out his pistol.
Chapter 5
McGarvey had to show his passport to follow Marta through security to the boarding gate, and it struck him that everyone out here seemed a little tense. It was probably another terrorist threat. The French took such things very seriously.
Most of the passengers for the Swissair flight had already boarded, leaving the waiting area empty except for one flight attendant and two boarding gate personnel, one of whom was making the boarding announcement over the terminal’s public address system.
“Ladies and gentlemen. All passengers holding confirmed seats for Swissair flight 145, non-stop service to Geneva, please board now. Flight 145 is in the final boarding process.
Mesdames et messieurs…?
“I don’t want to go like this, Kirk,” Marta said, looking up into his eyes. “I have a feeling I’ll never see you again.”
“I’m not what you think I am, Mati. I never was.”
“I knew what you were from the beginning,” she said earnestly. “And I love you despite it.”
McGarvey had to smile. “Not a very good basis for a relationship.”
The flight attendant was looking pointedly at them as the gate person finished the final boarding call in German.
“I’m not proud. I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
Something was wrong. Some internal warning system was ringing bells at the back of McGarvey’s head. It was the CIA car outside, he couldn’t put it out of his mind.
What were they doing here now? Watching him?
“Listen, Mati, do me a favor and wait right here. I don’t want you getting aboard that plane for a minute. I need to make a call first.”
Marta glanced over at the attendant by the open door to the boarding tunnel. “What is it?”
“Probably nothing,” McGarvey said. “Just hang on.” He went over to the counter. “May I use your house phone?” he asked the attendant who’d just finished making the boarding announcement.
“The lady must get aboard now, sir, or she will miss her flight,” the young man said.
“May I use your house phone? It’s very important.”
The attendant hesitated a moment, but then sighed and handed over the handset. “What number would you like, sir?”
“The airport security duty officer.”
A look of alarm crossed the attendant’s face. “Sir, is something wrong?”
“I don’t know. Get me the number, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
A moment later the call went through. “Security, Bellus.”
“Monsieur Bellus, my name is Kirk McGarvey. I am an American. “
“Oui, monsieur, what can I do for you?”
“One or more of my countrymen, from my embassy… security officers…
are presently somewhere here at the airport. It is imperative that I talk with them.
Immediately.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Monsieur McGarvey, but I am very busy…?
“You do know. Call them, and give them my name. Please, this is important.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“Boarding gate E17.”
“Swissair?”
“Yes, please hurry.”
“I will require an explanation.”
“Yes, of course.”
The line went silent. Everyone was looking at him. Marta came over.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He shook his head. The flight attendant had come over from the boarding tunnel door and was watching.
Bellus was back a minute later. “Monsieur McGarvey. The answer is that unless your message is extremely urgent, they’d ask you to contact the appropriate… office at your embassy.”
“I see.”
“Is it extremely urgent?”
McGarvey looked out at the Swissair jetliner. “No. I thought they were friends and I just wanted to say hello.”
“Pardon me, monsieur if I find that odd, since you will be flying to Geneva aboard the same aircraft. You are at E17?”
“Yes,” McGarvey said. “Actually I didn’t know if they’d arrived. I’m terribly sorry to have bothered you.”
“Are you a resident of Paris, Monsieur McGarvey?”
“Yes,” McGarvey said. He gave the cop the number of his apartment on the rue Lafayette in the tenth Arrondissement.
“And you are known at this address, and by your embassy?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I will verify this, Monsieur. Have a good flight.”
“Oui, merci.” McGarvey hung up.
“Well?” Marta asked.
“It was nothing,” he said and he kissed her. “Goodbye, Mati.”
“Just like that?” she asked, her eyes filling again.
He nodded. “Have a good flight.” He turned and walked off without looking back.
“What was that all about?” Cladstrup asked as Roningen came back from the telephone.
DuVerlie was across the room out of earshot if they talked softly.
“Does the name Kirk McGarvey ring any bells?”
Cladstrup had to laugh. “You’d better believe it. I was just coming into the Company when he was being booted out. Late seventies. Something to do with Chile, I think.
He screwed up.”
“He’s living here in Paris, and he was involved with that incident at our embassy this winter.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“Well, he’s apparently here at the airport, and he called security and asked to speak to us.”
“By name?” Cladstrup asked.
