someone will drive you back to your hotel. Get a couple hours of sleep, and then come over to the embassy, and we’ll do this together.”
Elizabeth hoped she hadn’t made a mistake by trusting Lynch, but it was too late now to do anything but go along with him. “Okay. But try to get me out of here as soon as possible.”
“Hang in there, kid,” Lynch said. “You did the right thing after all.”
Three hours later Lynch stood in the doorway of the farmhouse surveying the damage that had been done to the interior. The battered remains of what had been several pieces of computer equipment lay scattered around the floor. Lynch was a computer expert himself. It was obvious to him that the room had once held a great deal of equipment. Power cables snaked throughout the house and he could see a half-dozen spots on the floor and along the walls where desks or computer consoles had stood.
“He had a visitor,” Colonel Galan said, coming from the courtyard in back. He had picked up the butts of two Marlboro cigarettes. “There is no evidence that Rencke smokes, and according to McGarvey’s file, this is his brand.”
“The cigarette papers were crushed but not weathered. We must have just missed them.”
“His daughter didn’t warn them from anywhere in France,” Galan said. “Which might mean that he’s getting inside information from somewhere.”
“We didn’t know that we were coming out here until this morning. It would have taken them much longer to do this much,” Lynch said.
“How do you see it?”
“McGarvey is definitely taking Yemlin’s assignment, I don’t think there’s any doubt about it now. But he needs help, so he hired Rencke and got him out of here. By now they could be anywhere. Even out of France.”
Colonel Galan laughed humorlessly. “Don’t try to make me feel good, Tom. Once he leaves France he’s no longer my problem.”
“Might be a moot point in any case. France is where he wants to live out his retirement, if what he told Jacqueline is true. I don’t think he’d do anything to make that impossible. He’d know that the CIA would help you hunt for him if he screwed up here.” ‘ “Finding this computer expert will be just as difficult as finding McGarvey, now that they’re together,” Galan said glumly. “What about your station in Moscow? Is there any possibility of getting to Viktor Yemlin?”
“At this point I don’t think it’s been passed along to Moscow. So far as Langley is concerned, we’re merely helping you find McGarvey for questioning. Unless you want to take it a step farther.”
“Frankly I don’t know what to do,” Galan said. “I’ll have to take it up with my boss. But I have a gut feeling that this is not going to turn out so good for anybody. Why the mec didn’t remain in the States, or return to Switzerland is beyond me.”
Lynch had flown from Paris with Galan and a half dozen Action Service troops aboard a Dessault helicopter. He could hear the men searching the grounds, calling to each other and joking now that they understood their quarry was long gone. The French were efficient in some matters, Lynch thought, but they tended to operate with blinders on. If France or French citizens were involved they would go to great lengths. But they tended to turn a blind eye toward anything or anyone outside of their borders.
Another thought occurred to Lynch. “Maybe we should change our tactics, Guy.”
Galan looked up, interested. “Out?”
“Instead of us trying to find McGarvey, why don’t we arrange for him to come to us, voluntarily.”
“Are you planning on using his daughter?”
Lynch nodded. “I’m thinking about letting her stay in her father’s apartment. He might be keeping a watch on the place.”
Galan smiled. “Jacqueline can move in with her. Hein, two women might be more irresistible than one.”
“You told me that Jacqueline was in love with McGarvey^ Isn’t there a danger that she might end up helping him?”
“Jacqueline is a Frenchwoman. I will control her, and you can control his daughter.”
“That might be a handful.”
Again Galan laughed. “We’re not schoolboys,” he said. “In any event we have no other choice. But let’s first give them a few days to get to know each other.”
“Agreed,” Lynch said. He didn’t know who he disliked the most, the French collectively, or McGarvey.
Le Bourget
Elizabeth was allowed to freshen up in the bathroom under the watchful eye of a large-bosomed matron, after which she was moved to a larger, more comfortable, though plainly furnished office, where she was given a pot of tea and a plate of croissants and buns. A window looked down from the second story onto a small parade ground. When the sun came up, four soldiers marched to the flagpole in the center, raised the French tricolor, then stepped back, came to rigid attention, and crisply saluted as the national anthem blared from loudspeakers.
Twenty minutes later a helicopter came in low from the south and set down somewhere behind the building Elizabeth was in. Ten minutes after that the door opened and a slender woman dressed in a simple skirt and yellow sweater came in.
“Good morning Mademoiselle. I’m happy to see that they gave you breakfast.”
Elizabeth recognized her all at once, and it showed on her face, because the woman smiled brightly.
“I’m Jacqueline Belleau, but evidently you know this.” She held out her hand, and Elizabeth took it despite herself.
“I think I’m supposed to hate you,” Elizabeth said.
“Whatever for?” Jacqueline asked, surprised.
“You work for the French intelligence service, and you seduced my father.” “The first part is certainly true, but as for the rest of it your father did his part. He is a formidable man.”
Elizabeth knew the woman was forty, but she would never have guessed her age. She seemed self-assured” an intelligent, but amused, expression in her wide eyes.
“My father kicked you out of his apartment, then went to ground. Now you’ve been assigned to convince me to help you find him.”
“You’ve gotten nearly all that correct too,” Jacqueline said, her face falling a little. “I never lived with your father, although it’s something I wanted. He merely told me that he was leaving and then he was gone.”
Elizabeth said nothing, realizing that her remark had hurt the woman. It made her sad because she instinctively felt that her father had left because he wanted to protect Jacqueline. Keep her out of harm’s way, as he was fond of explaining himself. It was one of the very few faults she could find about her father, his inability to trust the women in his life.
“If you’re ready to go, I’ll take you back to your hotel,” Jacqueline said.
“I’m sorry.”
Jacqueline’s expression softened again. “That’s okay, I bark when I’m cornered too.”
Elizabeth had to sign a release statement downstairs when her purse was returned to her. They did not, however, return her Elizabeth Swanson passport and papers.
Rush-hour traffic was in full swing on the Autoroute du Nord as they headed back into the city. Elizabeth saw an airport that she did not recognize.
“Where are we?”
“Le Bourget,” Jacqueline said. “Charles Lindbergh landed just over there when the airport was nothing more than a wide grass field with a control tower and a few buildings. But all of Paris came out to welcome him.”
They drove for a few minutes in silence, Jacqueline concentrating on the traffic while Elizabeth tried to sort out her feelings. If Lynch could find out where Rencke was living, she would go out to see him. Maybe he knew something and would agree to help. It was a long shot, but for-the moment there wasn’t much else she could do. Or much else that she ought to do. Nobody had explained to her yet that whatever her father had been asked to do by Yemlin was wrong. If her dad were planning on killing Tarankov he’d be doing the world a favor. Certainly nobody in Washington — including the Russian diplomats — could find much fault in such an event. From what she’d read in the Russian media, Tarankov’s broad-based support among the people and the military was based on a pack of lies. He told the people that Russia’s problems were the fault of a western influenced government in Moscow. Hitler had blamed the Jews, Stalin had blamed the peasants, and Tarankov was blaming the West. Of the three, Tarankov’s
