The agent brought a set of keys to a Nissan Terrano 4X4. The cost was extra, but Annja wanted the off-road capability.
"But Lesauvage is a criminal," Annja went on, "and circumstances aren't different. I'm preparing for war."
Roux smiled and shook his head. "You remind me so much of her at times. So focused. So deliberate. So convinced of your own righteousness."
"Of who?" Annja signed the agreement and left the desk. She knew whom Roux meant, but for some reason she wanted him to say it. That way maybe he'd remember that he'd been too late last time and would put forth greater effort.
Roux fell into step beside her. "Of Joan."
For a moment, the image of the burning pyre filled Annja's head. "Joan's dead."
"I know," Roux said. "I was going to remind you of that."
Annja was keying the ignition when her cell phone rang. Fumbling it from her backpack, she answered.
"Miss Creed," Lesauvage said.
Annja paused with the Terrano in gear. All around her, people arrived and departed the busy airport even this late in the evening. All of them had places to go, were starting journeys or ending them.
And what are you doing? she wondered. Starting one or ending one? She didn't know.
"We'll meet outside Mende," Annja said with cold deliberation. She tried to sound as though she weren't about to throw up.
"I sent a car for you," Lesauvage stated.
"I declined. Move on to your next point." Annja couldn't believe how forceful she was being. Maybe it was from watching all those adventure movies with Sister Mary Annabelle when the other nuns were away. Or maybe it was just that in this situation a whole lot of dialogue wasn't needed.
"I could kill Avery Moreau," Lesauvage threatened.
"And I could get on the next plane out of here." Glancing back over her shoulder, Annja spotted the three men moving toward her. "Call your men off."
"We're going to do this my way," Lesauvage said.
"No," Annja said, "we're not." She broke the connection, tossed the phone onto the dashboard and looked at Roux. "Buckle up."
Without a word, the old man did. But a faint grin pulled his lips.
Annja shoved the transmission into reverse and backed toward Lesauvage's three men. Trapped in the ruby-and-white glow of her taillights, they tried to run. She managed to clip one of them with her rear bumper and send him sprawling into a parked car. The alarm roared to life and lights flashed.
The other two men ran to help their companion to his feet. They tried to run to their car, but public parking was a long way from rental parking.
Annja switched on her lights and merged with the departing traffic.
The phone rang again.
Grabbing the phone, Annja said, "Be polite."
"Where," Lesauvage asked, "do you want to meet?"
Annja named a kilometer marker a short distance from the city. Then she hung up again.
For a short time, Roux let her drive in silence, long enough to get onto the loop around Paris so they could head south. Finally he said, "You realize, of course, that Lesauvage and his men will outnumber you when you reach that destination."
"Yes." Annja made herself try to believe that she wasn't sleepy and that driving was taking all of her attention.
"What do you plan to do?"
"I don't know," she replied, "exactly." She paused. "Yet. This is still a work in progress."
"You're trusting that Lesauvage won't kill you."
"He won't." Annja thought that through. "He can't. He wants the charm and whatever secrets it possesses."
"Once he has it, he may well kill you. Us."
Annja looked at him and smiled. "Are you worried about us? Or you?"
"Both, actually." Roux regarded her. "I'm fascinated by you. I'd like very much to see what you do with Joan's sword."
Me, too, Annja thought. Then she turned her attention back to her driving. The rendezvous was hours away.
"It appears we have a tail," Roux announced when they were three kilometers north of their destination.
"We've had one for the past half hour," Annja said.
"We'll not be arriving unannounced," Roux stated.
Annja looked at him. "I could let you out."
Roux gave her a crooked smile. "No. I've seen myself through worse than Corvin Lesauvage."
"You mean Garin?"
Roux studied his hands. "I mean much worse than Lesauvage or Garin." He wouldn't say any more.
Annja glanced in the rearview mirror again and watched the car holding steady at the same speed it had for the past thirty minutes. She still hadn't been able to tell how many men were in the car.
It didn't matter, though. There would be a lot more waiting with Lesauvage.
A roadside sign announced the rest stop she'd chosen was only two kilometers distant.
Pulling off the highway, Annja drove into the rest stop. The building was off to the right with a small park behind it. Security lights marked the parking area in front of the building and at the north side.
Lesauvage waited on the north side. A sleek black BMW looked like a predatory cat hunkered down between two stalwart Renault Alpines. Only a short distance behind them, a cargo van sat solid and silent. A dozen motorcycles were spread around the cars. They had the whole end of the parking area to themselves.
Annja's cell phone rang.
"Yes," she said.
"I see you, Miss Creed," Lesauvage announced. "Do come in. There is no need for further game play. You will not leave this area unless I allow it. And I will kill Avery Moreau just to show you that I mean what I say."
The tail car, flanked by two others, pulled in behind Annja. One came alongside on the left and blocked the exit lane. The other two remained behind her. Their lights shone through the Terrano's back glass.
Annja remained where she was. As she stared at the cars and motorcycles ahead of her, Lesauvage got out of the BMW and stood in front of the vehicles. He held his cell phone to his ear and smiled broadly. His sandy hair caught gold fire in the light.
"At this point, Miss Creed," Lesauvage said, "you truly have no choice."
Without replying, Annja closed the cell phone and shoved the device into her backpack. She drove the SUV toward the BMW.
Roux gripped the suicide handle above his head. "You purchased the optional insurance, didn't you?"
"I never go anywhere without it," Annja said as she put her foot down harder on the accelerator. She drove straight for the BMW. The cell phone shrilled for her attention but she ignored it.
Lesauvage turned abruptly and waved to the BMW's driver. The man engaged the transmission and squealed backward, sliding out of the protective custody of the two Renaults. In his haste, the driver ran over one of the motorcycles.
Annja braked and skidded to a halt between the two Renaults.
"Well," Roux said in a calm voice as he released his hold, "I'm sure we wouldn't have enjoyed a more welcome response before this anyway."
Quivering a little inside, knowing that she was laying her life – and Roux's – on the line, Annja nodded.
One of the men wearing motorcycle leathers ran and jumped onto the Terrano's hood. He landed in a kneeling position with a deadly machine pistol in his hands. Annja didn't recognize the weapon, but she knew it for what it was.
"Don't move!" he shouted in accented English. "Keep your hands on the steering wheel!"
Annja did.
"And you, old man," the thug went on, "you put your hands on the dash!"