“The transfer from Morocco?”
“Duoar doesn’t use any bank there.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Neither there nor Algeria.”
“What about Ponclare’s father?”
“No. Duoar was just a child when Ponclare Senior went back to France. Duoar’s father was active in the resistance movement against the French,” she told him, “but he died after the country gained its independence.”
“How?”
Telach shrugged. “Murky circumstances. Officially, an accident. Unofficially, it may have been something else. He was in police custody shortly before he died. We’d have to do quite a lot more checking to clarify what happened, and even then, I don’t know that we’d get a true answer. Do you think it’s relevant?”
Probably not, Rubens thought. He was grasping for connections, trying to see the whole pattern. “All right. The CD-ROMs that Tommy sent back last night?”
“Formula for a very potent bomb. Different ways of constructing large bombs and shaping them. Some of them are rather large — two hundred pounds, three hundred pounds. Various formulas the experts are analyzing.”
“Has Johnny Bib’s team examined the hard drive that Dean and Lia got from the library yet?”
“The drive just arrived. It’ll take a while.”
Rubens got up and began pacing, trying to ward off his fatigue; he hadn’t slept now in quite some time.
The information about the account transfers added little, if anything, to what they already had — unless Ponclare had some theory on why he was used.
Someone would have to ask him about it. In person, to catch his reaction.
There was a chance that Ponclare was involved with the terrorists. Rubens couldn’t disregard that. He needed someone he could trust to put this to him, perhaps catch him off-guard with it. And it had to be done directly, without going through channels.
The French, of course, would raise a stink. So would he, if the situation were reversed.
“Where’s Tommy?” Rubens asked Telach.
“On a train back to Paris,” she said. “He should be there in about twenty minutes.”
Twenty minutes — and then another twenty or thirty in traffic to get over to the DST headquarters.
Karr wasn’t the best person for this job — he was clearly prejudiced.
Dean was the man he wanted. He trusted his judgment.
“Send Mr. Dean over. Tell him to go to Ponclare and talk to him personally. Tell him what we’ve found. Dean can offer to have the information faxed to him as he’s speaking. We’re looking for a reason he would be used — someone he’s wronged, revenge, something like that. Tell Mr. Dean that I’m going to be very interested in his personal assessment of Ponclare’s reaction. Have Lia go with him.”
Rubens paused.
“Yes, it is a long shot, Marie,” he added. “But we have to fill in the blanks somehow.”
65
The Eiffel Tower stood a short block from the Seine River, its legs spread over a large concrete and stone plaza. On the other side of the tower sat a long park called the Champ de Mars. The French had blocked off the side streets around the park with concrete barriers. Two large dump trucks had been placed on the street behind the tower, closing it off. Another truck and some wooden barricades had been placed on the river side of the tower. Hidden from view were two military vehicles with antitank weapons aimed at the approaches. Dean had his doubts that the weapons could be brought to bear in time, but it was obvious that the French hadn’t completely dismissed the Americans’ warning, contrary to what the Art Room had told him.
Despite the extra security, the tower was open for business. A long line snaked out from the chute in front of the north pillar as tourists waited to buy their tickets and then take the double-decker elevator up to the first or second observation deck. Once they reached the second level, or
“How do you think these guys manage to sell miniature towers for one euro when they’re three in the souvenir shop over there?” asked Lia.
“They don’t have the same overhead,” Dean told her.
Lia frowned and turned to look across the road. “Big bus could jump this barrier pretty easily,” she said, putting her hand on the metal rail that separated the tower platform from the road. “Go right through this pipe.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t stand there then.”
“You won’t save me if something goes wrong?” she said sarcastically.
Dean frowned. He wasn’t sure if her sarcasm was a good or bad sign.
“They have enough gendarmes here,” added Lia, referring to the military policemen, who were dressed in battle gear and carried automatic rifles. “You’d think they’d be able to do something about the souvenir sellers.”
“The guys on the bikes are the ones who look after them,” said Dean. There were two policemen who used mountain bikes to chase after the sellers when they got particularly obnoxious, but their efforts seemed halfhearted at best; the souvenir sellers would retreat, sometimes all the way across the river, only to return a few minutes later.
“Some security,” grumbled Lia.
“You want them to close the tower?”
“If they’re serious, yes.”
“Life just can’t come to a stop.”
“You’re either serious or you’re not,” said Lia.
“Maybe we should go up,” suggested Dean. “Play tourist.”
“Why?”
“I’d like to see what it’s like,” said Dean.
“Be my guest.”
Before he could answer her, Rockman’s voice echoed in his ear. “Charlie, Mr. Rubens has something he needs you to do right away. Find a taxi and we’ll tell you what’s going on while you’re en route.”
66
Mussa tapped his foot on the brake impatiently as the traffic showed no sign of letting up. He had given himself nearly an hour’s extra time, and still he was going to end up being very close.
He would make it. He knew he would make it. He had to relax. He settled his hands on the steering wheel, tapping out an impatient beat. He thought of listening to the radio and reached in that direction — only to be startled by a sharp rap on the window. He pushed upright, angry — then saw that a policeman was standing there.
Slowly Mussa put his left hand on the button to lower the window. He had no weapon; they were liabilities now.
“Yes?” he asked.
“This is your truck?” said the officer.
“My company’s, yes.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Gare du Nord,” Mussa said. “The train station. I have a delivery to the Eurostar and I’m running late. I
