No one spoke as Carter pulled in behind the Citroen and they headed south. About three miles on, the Renault pulled in behind them to form the caravan.
Halfway between Arpajon and Etampes, it started snowing heavily.
"Can he fly in this?" Amani asked.
"We have a check stop at Angerville," Carter replied. "We'll make a weather call."
He flipped the wiper switch to high, and they settled back in silence. Carter could hear Carlotta's long nails in the rear of the van tapping the barrel of the Uzi.
There were few cars on the road, and everyone was driving cautiously. Carter himself had slowed down, taking the curves at a slower speed and accelerating less as he pulled out of them. A wall of snow seemed to settle around the van, isolating them in a cocoon of white. Even the alternating forests and open fields on each side of them seemed distant as the car carved a cave through the falling flakes.
"Goddamned idiot!" Carter snapped as another van, dark blue with blacked-out windows, whirled around them and cut back to the right lane in front of them much too soon.
There was a tense moment as Carter saw the other van charge the tail lights of the Renault. For a brief second, he thought that the driver of the van — even though he was closer — didn't see them.
Then the van swerved out and was around the Renault, speeding much too fast down the highway.
They passed through Etampes, and just south of the town, Carlotta crawled forward.
"Ali…?"
For a bare second. Carter didn't respond to his alias. Quickly his eyes darted to Amani to see if the old man had caught it. He was napping.
"Yes?"
That van was parked in Etampes, outside a bistro."
"I saw it. Did you notice the woman in the passenger seat?"
"Yes, but I couldn't tell if it was Sophia. But she does wear a blond wig."
"We'll compare notes when we stop in Angerville."
When Carter emerged from the restaurant, the snow had receded a little but still fell in a steady pattern. The cold, now damp air was heavy with the reek of gasoline fumes and the smell of coffee from the sack in his hand. Now and then the heavy rumble of a truck reached his ears from the highway.
The Renault had already gassed up and moved to the south end of the drive. The van was still at the pumps, and the Citroen was at the north end of the drive, near a phone booth.
Jason Henry was in the booth.
Carter passed the coffee through the window of the van. "Stay alert. I'll be right back."
Fingering the Beretta in his pocket. Carter walked toward the parking lot at the edge of the building.
He walked all the way around the restaurant building to the adjoining gas station and stood, out of the snow, in the lighted bay. The second parking lot was also devoid of anything suspicious.
"May I help you, monsieur?"
It was a young boy fixing a tire in the bay.
"Non, merci," Carter said, and then changed his mind. He pulled a pencil and the Michelin road map that he and Henry had pored over in the restaurant from his pocket, and approached the boy. "Perhaps you can at that. Do you live in this area?"
"Out, monsieur."
Ten minutes later. Carter approached Henry just as the other man stepped from the phone booth.
"Well?"
"It had better be Spain," Henry replied. "This mess is moving in a blanket north and northeast. If we get off the ground, the only way to go is south."
"Okay. Get your artillery out of the Citroen, put it under your coat, and join us in the van."
"Something wrong?"
"Just a hunch," Carter replied. "There was a CB antenna on that van that passed us and stopped at Etampes. They haven't passed again, but they could be tracking us. If anything pops on down the road, I think it would be best if we were all together."
As they walked to the van. Carter played a penlight over the map. Besides the published routes, there were now penciled lines crisscrossing back and forth across Route 20 and the nearby A10 superhighway.
"What's up?"
"Who knows?" Carter said and shrugged. "But remember what you said about being spotted if we stayed in Paris too long?"
"Yeah?"
"We might have stayed too long. You drive!"
Henry gunned the engine and steered from the parking lot. He flashed his lights, and once again the Renault took the lead, with Maurice and the Citroen close behind. On the highway, they quickly gained speed and the Renault's tail-lights faded in the snow.
Suddenly a small sports car whirled around them and immediately slowed.
"Bastard!" Henry hissed and hit his horn.
"Can you pass him?" Carter said.
"Not in this crap. We're losing the Renault!"
Carter leaned his eyes to the back windows. He couldn't see the headlights of the Citroen.
"I don't like it," he growled, jacking a shell into the chamber of the Beretta. The sound was answered by a similar click as Carlotta readied the Uzi.
"There's something ahead! "Henry shouted. "Christ, it's a roadblock!"
Carter scrambled forward.
There were no cars in sight, but two stanchions had been raised on their lane of the road, with red lights atop them and a gate between. Three uniformed men were beside the road, but through the snow it was impossible to tell what uniforms they wore.
The sports car was already stopped at the gate. There was no sign of the Renault.
"Amani, get in the back!"
"Do you think it is the police, looking for us?"
"Move!" Carter barked. He could hardly tell the man that he knew damned well it wasn't the police.
Just as Carter slid into the front, Henry stood on the brakes.
"Look, there in the trees!"
Carter looked. It was the ass end of the Renault sedan. At that second, the sports car took off and then skidded sideways in front of them. Two of the three uniformed men drew their guns and started running toward the van.
Carter took one of them out right through hi s side window, and Henry wrestled the steering wheel. By the time the van was all the way around, Carlotta had the rear doors open and the Uzi was barking.
"in the little sports car…?"It was Amani at Carter's shoulder.
"Yeah?"
"Sophia Palmori!"
"Let's hope the Uzi nails her," Carter said, already running his penlight over the map. "There's a side road up here about two miles. Take a left!"
The words were barely out of his mouth when twin headlights hurtled out of the snow directly toward them.
"It's the blue van!" Carter shouted.
"Dammit, they must have gotten Maurice!" Henry cried, managing to swerve just in time to avoid the other vehicle.
He took the comer in a skid and saw a clear ribbon of unmarked white leading to the A10.
"Jesus, I hope there's a road under that," Henry muttered, then dropped the van into high gear as he floored the accelerator.
There was, and it was solid under the white powder.
"What now?"
Carter consulted the map. "There's an underpass. Just on the other side of it, take a left. It's an on-ramp to the A10."
Carter hung on to the seat and the door handle until he was satisfied with Henry's driving ability and they were skittering half sideways up the on-ramp. He then screwed his body around in the seat and looked between Amani and Carlotta. He saw light at the bottom of the on-ramp, and then the hazy yellow of the other van's two fog lights.
"What's that?" Henry asked.
"Them," Carter replied. "They're coming after us."
They hit the A10 south at sixty miles an hour, and Henry did everything he could to urge more speed out of the vehicle. Beside him in the passenger seat. Carter was again consulting the map.