"He might take fright. I can reassure him, set up a meeting. His name-?"
"Francois Andrieux."
Bonnell noted it. "Very good. So, I will speak to this man, and then I will ring you at tfie Ritz-"
"I'm no longer staying there. You can reach me at the Lys on the Left Bank."
" I see. Any particular reason?"
"No."
"I must work on that innocent expression. It is very charming, if not terribly convincing." Tachyon flushed, and Bonnell laughed. "There, there, don't take offense. You've told me enough of your secrets tonight. I won't press you for any more."
The junket was dining at the expensive Tour Eiffel. Tachyon, leaning on the rail of the observation deck, fidgeted and waited for Braun to emerge. Through the windows of the restaurant he could see that the party had reached the brandy-coffee-cigars-speeches stage. The door opened, and Mistral, giggling, darted out. She was followed by Captain Donatien Racine, one of France's more prominent aces. His sole power was flight, but that coupled with the fact he was career military had ensured that the press dubbed him Tricolor. It was a name he hated.
Gripping the American about her slender waist, Racine carried them over the protective railing. Mistral gave him a quick kiss, pushed free of his encircling arm, and floated away on the gentle breezes that sighed about the tower. Her great blue-and-silver cape spread around her until she resembled an exotic moth drawn by the glittering lights webbing the tower. Watching the couple darting and swooping in an intricate game of tag, Tachyon suddenly felt very weary and very old and very earthbound.
The restaurant doors flew open, and the delegation flowed out like water through a broken dam. After five months of formal dinners and endless speeches, it was no wonder they fled.
Braun, elegant in his white tie and tails, paused to light a cigarette. Tachyon touched him with a thread of telepathy. Jack.
He stiffened, but gave no other outward sign.
Gregg Hartmann glanced back. "Jack. are you coming."
"I'll catch up with you. Think I'll enjoy the air and the view and watch those crazy kids skydive." He pointed to Mistral and Racine.
A few moments later he joined Tachyon at the rail. "Bonnell's going to set up a meeting."
Braun grunted, flicked ash. "The Surete were at the hotel when I got back. They tried to be subtle about questioning the delegation as to your whereabouts, but the news hounds are snuffling. They sense a story"
The Takisian shrugged it aside with a hunch of the shoulder. "Will you come with me? To the meeting?" Ancestors, how it stuck in the throat to ask him for help! "Sure."
"I may need help with the father."
"So you're going to do…"
"Whatever it takes. I want him."
Montmartre. Where artists, legitimate and otherwise, swarmed like locusts ready to fall upon the unwary tourist. A portrait of your beautiful wife, monsieur. The cost politely never mentioned, then when it was completed a charge sufficient to purchase an old master.
Tour buses groaned up the hill and disgorged their eager passengers. The Gypsy children, circling like vultures, moved in. The European travelers, wise to the ways of these innocentfaced thieves, drove them away with loud threats. The Japanese and Americans, lulled by sparkling black eyes in dark faces, allowed them to approach. Later they would rue it when they discovered the loss of wallets, watches, jewelry.
So many people, and one small boy.
Braun, hands on hips, gazed out across the plaza before Sacre-Coeur. It was awash with people. Easels thrust up like masts from a colorful surging sea. He sighed, checked his watch.
"They're late."
"Patience."
Braun stared pointedly at his watch again. The Gypsy children attracted by the slim gold band of the Longines crept forward.
"Beat it!" Jack roared. "Jesus, where do they all come from? Is there a Gypsy factory the same way there's a hooker factory?"
"They're usually sold by their mothers to `talent scouts' from France and Italy. They're then trained to steal and work like slaves for their owners."
"Jesus, sounds like something out of Dickens."
Tachyon shaded his eyes with one slim hand and searched for Bonnell.
"You know you were supposed to address a conference of researchers today."
"Yes."
"Well, did you call to cancel?"
"No, I forgot. I have more important things on my mind right now than genetic research."
"I'd say that's exactly what you have on your mind," came Braun's dry reply.
A taxi pulled up, and Bonnell struggled painfully out. He was followed by a man and a small boy. Tachyon's fingers dug deep into Jack's bicep.
"Look. Dear God!"
"What?"
"That man. He's the clerk from the hotel."
"Huh?"
"He was at the Intercontinental."
The trio were walking toward them. Suddenly the father froze, pointed at Jack, gestured emphatically, grabbed the child by the wrist, and hustled for the taxi.
"No, dear God, no." Tachyon ran forward a few steps. Reached out, his power closing about their minds like a vise. They froze. He walked slowly toward them. Felt his breath go short as he devoured the small, stubborn face beneath its cap of red hair. The boy was fighting with not insignificant power, and only a quarter Takisian. Pride surged through Tach.
Suddenly he was flung to the ground, fists and rocks raining down upon him. He clung desperately to the control while the Gypsy children plucked at him, removing wallet, watch, and all the time continuing the hysterical beating. Jack waded in and began plucking urchins off him.
"No no, catch them. Don't worry about me!" screamed Tach. With a leg sweep he brought two to the ground, lurched to one knee, stiffened his fingers, and jabbed them hard into one gangling teenager's throat. The boy fell back, choking.
Jack hesitated, turned toward Andrieux and the boy, broke into a run. Tachyon, distracted, watched his progress. Never even saw the boot come swinging in. Pain exploded in his temple. Distantly he heard someone shouting, then bitter darkness.
Bonnell was wiping his face with a damp handkerchief when he finally came around. Desperately Tachyon levered up onto his elbows, then fell back as the motion sent waves of pain through his head and filled the back of his throat with nausea.
"Did you get them?"
"No." Jack was holding a bumper like a man displaying a prize catch. "When you went under they ran for it and made it into the cab. I tried to grab the car, but could only get the bumper. It came off, " he added unnecessarily. Jack eyed the interested crowd that had surrounded them and shooed them away.
" Then we've lost them."
"What did you expect? You turn up with the Judas Ace," said Bonnell angrily.
Jack flinched, murmured through stiff lips, "That was a long time ago."
"Some of us don't forget. And others of us shouldn't." He glared at Tachyon. " I thought I could trust you."
"Jack, go away."
"Well, fuck you too." Long, jerky strides carried him into the crowd and out of sight.
"It's funny, but I feel very badly about that." He gave himself a shake. "So what do we do now?"
"First I extract a promise from you that there will be no more stunts like today."
"All right."
"I'll reset the meeting for tonight. And this time come alone."
Jack wasn't sure why he did it. After the insult Tachyon had given him, he should have just washed his hands of the whole thing or told the Surete everything he knew. Instead he turned up at the Lys with an ice pack and aspirin.
"Thank you, but I do have a medical kit."
Jack tossed the bottle several times. "Oh, yeah? Well, then I'll take them. This whole thing is giving me a headache." Tach lifted the pack from his eye. "Why you?"