room. From the window I could see the guard in the park. He was on his cell phone — probably checking with Marisa.
I could just hear the murmur of her voice. I was staring at a modern painting, trying to figure out what it was, when she came into the room.
She sat on the couch. “Sit, Tommy Carmellini.” She patted the seat. I sat down beside her and left a few inches between us. “Let’s start with the easy questions first. Why did you make a play for me in Washington?”
My eyes widened. “I seem to recall that you picked me up, not vice versa.”
“So you knocked me out, had sex with me, then left me in a drugged stupor.”
“If that’s a question, I’m not going to dignify it with an answer.”
She looked around the room, thinking.
“You could answer a question for me, you know.”
“I’ll be as honest with you as you were with me,” she said.
“You had my fingerprints checked by someone, so you’re not just the socialite daughter of a diplomat. Do you work for French intelligence?”
She kept her gaze on my eyes and didn’t reply. The thought occurred to me that she was a knockout. Oh, well — that’s the way my luck goes.
“If I show up for a visit with Henri Rodet and tell him my name is Terry Shannon, are you going to rat me out?”
“Rat…?”
“Spill the beans. Tell him I’m not Terry Shannon.”
“I don’t know you.”
“That’s the spirit. I saw character in your face the first time I laid eyes on you.”
Now it was her turn. “Are you going to tell Monsieur Rodet that we’ve met before?”
“A grand jury couldn’t drag it out of me.”
“Grand jury…?”
“That’s a political joke. I won’t tell if you won’t.”
The phone rang again. Marisa made a face and went to answer it in the kitchen.
I was standing, closely inspecting a two-foot-high sculpture of a voluptuous, armless nude, when she returned.
“I am curious,” I said. “There is a man sitting in the park that I would like to point out to you. I wonder if you know him.”
She followed me reluctantly. “There’s a DGSE man in the park. He saw you come in. I told him we had a mutual acquaintance.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t name her.”
“Okay.”
The older man wearing sunglasses was still sitting in the same place. I pointed him out to Marisa. “Do you know him?”
She took a good look, perhaps fifteen seconds’ worth. That pause convinced me she was a professional; if she ever saw him again, she would remember. “No,” she said.
She led me to the door and opened it. “Good-bye, Tommy.”
“Terry.” I didn’t want to leave. “So how is your father?” I asked.
A look of surprise crossed her face, then disappeared. “He died,” she said.
“Oh. Sorry to hear it. He looked pretty healthy when I saw him.”
“An automobile accident, in the Alps. Two months ago. A truck on the wrong side of the road.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yes. Good-bye, Terry.” She gently touched my elbow.
Hell, I can take a hint. I motored off and she closed the door behind me.
I had a lot to think about as I descended the stairs. I ignored the men in the park. Didn’t look for or at them. I walked down the block and went through the arch under the buildings, which took me out of the square.
I called Rich on my cell as I walked. “Hey, it’s me.”
“Hey.”
“Where is the watcher who was in the park?”
“He’s still there.”
“How many telephone calls did he make?” One.
“There’s another one, an older guy in sunglasses, ratty pants and a sweater, Semitic features. Get a shot of him and ask Washington to come up with some ID, if they can.”
“I see him,” Rich said.
“I’m going home. Turn on the equipment, see what you can get out of those bugs. Make sure they work, then turn them off.”
“What rooms did you put them in?”
“Living room, hallway and kitchen.”
“Nice job,” he said, and hung up.
I stretched my legs and marched.
I really didn’t care if Marisa told her guy Henri that I was Tommy Carmellini — I just threw that in to see what she would say. Was she DGSE? If she already knew that the DGSE knew one CIA type named Carmellini was in town, she hid it well. She had seemed genuinely surprised to see me — and not pleasantly surprised.
If she wasn’t a DGSE officer, then whom was she working for?
Jake Grafton leaned over Sarah Houston’s shoulder so that he could see her computer screen and asked, “What do you have?”
“They used the computer at the chateau this morning after the power came back on.”
“And …”
“I’m still sorting through what I have.”
Grafton dropped into the folding chair beside Houston’s small desk. “I want everything you can get off that hard drive, and the hard drive at his apartment in town.”
Sarah Houston eyed him without warmth. “I know you don’t believe in telling anyone anything, but until you tell me what I’m looking for, you can classify my efforts as recreational digging.”
Grafton seemed to accept that with good grace. With him you never knew, Houston thought. The truth was he intimidated her a little, although she would never admit it.
“I’ve told you what I’m after. I want to know how Rodet and his spy communicate. And, obviously, what they say to each other.”
Houston played with her keys a bit before she answered. “If you don’t know how they communicate or what they say to one another, how do you know there really is a spy?”
“I don’t,” Grafton said with a smile. “All I have is a theory. Prove me wrong, if you can.” He picked up Carmellini’s file on Rodet’s chateau and opened it.
“They may not use e-mail. Or if they do, they may use a public computer, such as one in a library or Starbucks, something like that.”
“The agent might, but I can’t see the director of the DGSE pounding a keyboard at a library.”
“Why shouldn’t the agent use a dead drop?”
“Too risky. This person is in a murderous conspiracy, surrounded by religious fanatics who are convinced that they are warriors of God, fighting God’s battles. The least suspicion would cost him his life. So he doesn’t go for walks alone, doesn’t visit post offices, doesn’t mail letters to foreign cities… none of that.”
“A mailman?” This was a person who carried messages between the spy and his controller.
“Same objection.”
“You have me searching for a needle in a haystack,” Sarah Houston groused, “one that might not even be there.”
“That kind is the hardest to find,” Grafton admitted.
She frowned at her boss. He didn’t seem to notice. He dug into the file, held up each satellite photo and examined it closely.
