The Body in the Vestibule

down the street. He was after her in seconds, but she had sprinted ahead, getting a good lead. As she ran, Faith looked wildly around. The street was empty. It was also familiar. She'd been here on Thursday when she'd gone to get Ben at Leonard's. She remembered it from the tour in the guidebook, rue Bur-deau, and there was a traboule somewhere. If only she could find it, she could lose her pursuer, she was sure. Her heart pounded madly. How long could she run this fast?

Up ahead, she saw the entrance to the covered passageway on the left. She plunged into the dark tunnel and ran on, stumbling until her eyes got used to the dim light. The traboule would take her to the next street and there had to be someone there, or she would be enough ahead to find a place to hide.

Faith could hear the footsteps following her. She realized she couldn't wait. She had to hide now. At the next bend, the traboule branched in two directions and she went to the right. Soon she saw there was a stairway at the end. She threw herself underneath and crouched down, hoping whoever was after her would assume she had gone up it or that he would go the other way.

He did take the other way. She heard the footsteps stop for an instant as he considered, then get fainter and fainter until she couldn't hear them anymore. He was gone.

She took several deep breaths but stayed where she was. It was only then that Faith allowed the image of the hand that had grasped her wrist in the car to rise to consciousness. It was his right hand. The fingernails were bitten and bloody. The fourth finger was bare except for a band of white where a ring had been. A family ring.

It was the d'Ambert clochard.

She'd never have been able to get away from anyone eise so easily, she reflected. The clochard. She had drawn blood when she bit bun and was aware that she had been spitting out the bitter, filthy taste as she ran. She took a tissue from her pocket and wiped her mouth.

And what about the message from Tom? She felt in a muddle. It was obviously a fake. The receptionist wouldn't have known his voice. But how had they known where Faith was? Unless they'd been watching her. Watching her for days, just waiting for the chance to grab her. She felt cramped and queasy. It was all too obvious what the main use of her hiding place was and she cautiously crept out.

She went up the staircase, which led to another tra-boule. It was silent. The only sound was her own footsteps. She could see the daylight ahead and moved toward it slowly. She looked out. No cars in sight. No people, either. This was the wholesale garment district, bustling with activity during the week and deserted on the weekend. Weak with relief, she saw there was a phone booth at the corner. Seventeen, the police emergency number. That was all she had to do. One seven. Push the buttons and the nightmare would be over. She began to walk quickly down the uneven cobblestones, afraid she might trip if she ran. She put one hand on her rounded belly. It would be all right. It had to be all right.

A few yards away, a man stepped from the alley. Before she could make a sound, the blow came and she was in darkness again.

“But I don't understand. There must be some mistake,' Tom Fairchild said in bewilderment to the young woman whose bizarre orange hair seemed only too appropriate to the strangeness of the situation.

“I'm sorry, monsieur. I can just tell you what madame said. That she preferred the train to a long drive and would meet you in Avignon for aperitifs opposite the Palais des Papes.'

“But we hadn't even planned to stop at Avignon.”

The young woman shrugged. 'Sometimes when like this, women can get sudden impulses. She called for a cab and left for Perrache.'

“Where's Mommy? I want Mommy!' Ben began to cry.

Tom picked him up. 'Hush, sweetheart. Don't worry. Let's go to the train station and see if we can find her.' He thanked the woman and left. As he strapped Ben into his car seat, he thought, 'This just isn't like Faith. Or is it?”

The young woman watched the proceedings from the shop window. Tom had been able to park right in front. Giovanni would be coming back soon from the cafe down the street, where he'd gone for the first of his morning machons and the accompanying glass or two. She waited. She wasn't about to leave the store wide open. That would be a crime.

He arrived a few minutes later. 'Ciao, I have to leave now,' she told him, and did.

The Reverend Fairchild stood overlooking the platform at the station in despair. He had just missed the train for Avignon, which had pulled out only a few minutes before. He returned to the main part of the station and asked at the appropriate guichet if the ticket agent remembered a young woman with blond hair—newly cut—blue eyes, of average height, who had purchased a ticket for Avignon about thirty minutes ago.

“Maybe ten looked like that, monsieur. Now where is it you want to go?'

“I don't want to buy a ticket. I'm looking for my wife.' 'Well, I cannot help you there. I am selling tickets. If there is some problem, you must go to the office.'

“Are you sure you did not see her? She's an American. Her French is not very good.'

“This is not unusual. If monsieur will please move— there are others here to buy tickets.”

Ben tugged at Tom's hand. 'Mommy, where's Mommy?'

“I don't know, but don't worry. We'll find her.' And Tom strode across the station to get help.

Faith opened her eyes. Where was she? She tried to sit up and discovered that she was tied at the ankles and wrists like a fatted calf. She was in the back seat of a rapidly moving car, completely covered by a blanket. Tipping her head back and away from the rough wool, she could see nothing out the window but blue sky. The movement made her dizzy. Her head felt like it was splitting open. The blanket felt very warm—safe almost. She closed her eyes again and drifted back into unconsciousness.

Tom had no luck with the stationmaster, who suggested he call the police. Stopping only to buy the increasingly frightened Ben a package of Gummi Bears, Tom called the Le-blancs instead. They arrived in what seemed like minutes, Ghislaine took charge. 'I will take Ben home with me while Paul goes to the police. They can arrange for the police in Avignon to meet the train. Obviously, Faith has become upset at this whole clochard business and has had some sort of fugue. She was talking about it on Sunday and I should have paid more attention to how upset she was.'

“No, I should have. It's been going on all week. She even had some idea that the clochard outside the church was an imposter. My God, what if she was right! We have to tell the police everything. Can you get a hold of your friend Ravier?'

“Tom, mon ami, you must be calm. The best thing is for you to go to Avignon to be there after she arrives. You must take our car. It is faster. Go straight to the police and I know she will be waiting there for you.' Paul tried to reassure him. 'Meanwhile, I will call Michel and, yes, tell him everything. Now, Benjamin, would you like to play with Pierre? He has some new cars to show you.”

Ben had been clutching Tom with hands sticky from the rapid consumption of the whole package of candies. He looked up at his father, unsure what to do. The cars would be nice to see, but one parent had vanished today and he wasn't about to let go of the one remaining.

“Sweetie, you go with Paul and Ghislaine and have fun this afternoon. I'm going to go bring Mommy back. We'll all have supper together. How would that be?”

Ben was reluctant, but he did not protest at being swung up onto Paul's shoulders, and they all left the station for their various destinations.

The car door opened with a jerk. An arm reached in and roughly shook Faith on the shoulder, yanking the blanket off, which she realized had not been draped over her out of kindness, but for concealment. She raised her heavy eyelids, aware that she had been on the edge of consciousness for some time, loath to leave her unknowing state. Her bonds were being cut and she rubbed her painful wrists. She sat up slowly.

Her captor was wearing a black ski mask. She could tell nothing about him. In the dim light, she could see the car had been driven into some kind of shed. It looked like an old farm building. 'Venez!' the figure demanded, pulling her from the seat. Faith thought she would pass out again when she stood up and fell heavily upon the figure next to her, who immediately shoved her against the car. After a few minutes, she found she could stand. No sooner had she done so than she was pushed forward and made her way, staggering in pain, out into—what?

Where was she? And what time was it? It was dark, but Faith had no idea how many hours or days had passed since she had been abducted. Had she been drugged? The cool ah* hit her and she shivered. She wished