Germans can be bought, but not all. We are not French.
Force? If he attacks me, he creates a hero. If he kills me he has to deal with Karin Doring, who will find him, I promise you. Do you remember how effective the Algerians were paralyzing Paris in 1995, bombing the subways and threatening the Eiffel Tower? If Dominique moves against us, the National Fire will move against France. Dominique's organization is large, a very easy target. Our operation is smaller and more mobile. He can destroy a business today or an office tomorrow, and I'll simply relocate. And each time, I'll exact a greater price from his big elephant's hide.' The limousine had been driving south from Hamburg, and day was fast becoming night. The world outside the darkened windows reflected the blackening feeling in Jean- Michel's soul.
Richter took a long breath, then said barely above a whisper, 'In just a few years this country will be mine. Mine to restore, just as Hitler built the Reich on the wreckage of the Weimar Republic. And the irony is that you, M. Horne, were the architect. You showed me that I was facing an enemy I didn't anticipate.' Jean-Michel said, 'Hen Richter, you mustn't regard M.
Dominique as an enemy. He can help you, still.' Richter sneered, 'You are the perfect diplomat, M.
Horne. A man burns down my business. Then you not only tell me but actually believe he is my ally. No,' said Richter.
'I think it's fair to say that my goals are different from those of Dominique.' 'You're wrong, Herr Richter,' Jean-Michel said. He found courage in his desire not to disappoint M. Dominique.
'Your dream is to restore German pride. M. Dominique supports that goal. A stronger Germany strengthens all of Europe. The enemies are not here but in Asia and across the Atlantic. This alliance means a great deal to him. You know his love of history, of reestablishing old bonds—' 'Stop.' Richter held up his hand. 'I saw, this afternoon, what our alliance means. It means that he commands and I serve.' 'Only because he has a master plan!' Fury seemed to envelope Richter. He exploded from his seat. 'Master plan!' he roared. 'While I was sitting in my office, shaking with anger and calling my supporters and trying to resurrect my dignity, I asked myself, 'If Dominique is not the supporter of my cause, as he represented himself to be, then what is he?' And I realized that he is a beekeeper. He is raising us here in Germany and America and Britain to buzz through the corridors of power to sting, to distract, to disorient. Why? So that the backbone of each nation, its business and industry, invests its capital and future in the only stable site in the west: France.' Richter calmed, but his eyes remained fierce. 'I believe that Dominique wants to create an industrial oligarchy with himself at its head.' Jean-Michel said, 'M. Dominique wants to expand his industrial power base, yes. But he doesn't want it for himself or even for France. He wants it for Europe.' Richter snickered. 'Lass mich in Ruhe,' he said dismissively. He sat back with the guns close by. Then he reached over to the bar between the seats, drank from a bottle of sparkling water, and shut his eyes.
Leave him alone, Jean-Michel thought. This was insane.
Richter was insane. There were two bodies in the car, the world was about to be disordered and reconfigured, and this madman was taking a nap.
'Herr Richter,' Jean-Michel implored, 'I urge you to cooperate with M. Dominique. He can and he will help you, I promise.' Without opening his eyes, the German said, 'M. Horne, I don't care to listen to anymore. It's been a long and stressful day and it will be two hours, at least, before we reach our destination. Some of the country roads are a bit shabby. You might want to close your eyes as well. You look a little peaked.' 'Herr Richter, please,' Jean- Michel persisted. 'If you'd only listen.' Richter shook his head. 'No. We'll be silent now, and later, you will listen. And then you will report to Dominique.
Or perhaps you will elect to remain here. Because you will see why I am confident that Felix Richter and not Gerard Dominique will be the next F?hrer of Europe.'
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The Ambassador Hotel was located on Heidenkampsweg, on the other side of Hamburg. Hood was barely aware of being driven through the crowded streets or over the crisscrossing beauty of the narrow canals and basins. When the car pulled up, Hood bolted out and ran to the house telephones. He asked the operator for Ms.
Bosworth. An awful silence followed, as he waited to be told that she had checked out or that she had lied to him about where she was staying and there was no one here by that name.
'Hold on, please,' the operator said in English, 'and I will ring that room for you.' Hood thanked the man, then held on. His heart was thumping out of control. His mind was everywhere yet nowhere. He would think about Gerard Dominique and the hate games, but he always ended up back on Nancy. What they'd had. What she'd done. What they'd lost. And then he would get angry with himself because his heart was out of control that way too. He was consumed, again, with Nancy Jo. Even though his hunger could go, would go nowhere.
'Hello?' Hood leaned on his forearm, against the wall…'Hi,' he said.
'Paul? Is that you?' Nancy sounded genuinely surprised, and pleased.
'Yes, Nancy. I'm in the lobby. Can we talk?' 'Of course! Come up.' He said, 'It might be better if you came down.' 'Why? Are you afraid I'll attack you the way I used to?' 'No,' Hood said, uncomfortable with his thoughts. He wasn't afraid at all, damn him.
'Then come on up and help me pack,' she insisted.
'Fifth floor, turn right, last door on the left.' She hung up and Hood stood there for a moment, listening to the dial tone. At least it drowned out his heart.
What are you doing, asshole? he asked himself. After a moment of self-pity, he answered, You're going to find out information about Gerard Dominique. About hate games.
About what might be going on in Toulouse. And then you're going to go back to Hausen's office to report on what you've found.
Replacing the phone in its cradle, Hood turned toward the elevators and rode to the fifth floor.
Nancy answered the door wearing tight jeans and a pink polo shirt. The shirt was tucked in, emphasizing her delicate shoulders. The raised collar showed off her long neck. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail like the one she'd used to wear when they went bike riding.
She smiled her perfect smile, then turned and walked back to the bed. There was an open suitcase on the cover.
As she packed the last of her toiletries, Hood walked over.
'I'm pretty surprised to see you,' Nancy said. 'I thought when we said good-bye, that was it.' 'Which time?' Hood asked.
Nancy looked up. Hood stood at the foot of the bed and watched her.
'Touch‚,' Nancy said with a little smile. She finished packing, closed the suitcase, and set it on the floor. Then she sat down slowly, gracefully, like a lady riding sidesaddle.
'So what is it, Paul?' she asked, the smile fading, softening.
'Why did you come?' Hood said, 'Truthfully? To ask you a couple of questions about your work.' Nancy stared at him. 'Are you serious?' He shut his eyes and nodded.
'I think I'd rather have heard something untruthful,' she said. She rose and turned away. 'You haven't changed, have you Paul? Romantic as Scaramouche in the bedroom, celibate as St. Francis on the job.' 'That's not true,' he said. 'This is a bedroom, and I'm being celibate.' Nancy looked at Paul and he smiled. She started to laugh. 'That's two for you, St. Paul,' she said.
'It's Pope Paul now,' he corrected her. 'At least, that's what they call me in Washington.' 'I'm not surprised,' Nancy said. She walked toward him. 'Coined, I'm willing to bet, by a frustrated female admirer.' 'As a matter of fact, it was,' Hood said. He blushed.
Nancy walked up to him, and he began to turn away from her. She put her hands on his waist, hooked fingers into his belt loops, and stopped him. She looked up into his eyes.
'All right, Pope Paul,' she said. 'What did you want to ask me about my work?' Hood looked down at her. He didn't know what to do with his arms and put them behind him, his left forearm in his right hand. One of her knees was beside his, inside his leg.
Well what the hell did you think was going to happen?
