Personally, Noel was worried. There was a level of free-floating tension that was almost like a metallic scent beneath the smell of perfume and canapes.
Siraj walked away to greet Jayewardene. Noel snagged a glass of champagne and started moving toward the buffet. He noticed Lohengrin skittering off in the other direction.
Wondering if it was just coincidence, Noel changed course and moved toward Lohengrin. The young German ace looked around wildly, spotted Jayewardene and Babel, and started heading for them. Tallyho, Noel thought, and ducked into a clump of people. He moved through the crowd, staying out of Lohengrin’s sight until he stepped out of another knot of people directly in front of the younger man.
Klaus reared back like a startled horse. “Didn’t you and I have a weekend in Paris?” Noel asked.
Blood washed up Lohengrin’s neck and suffused his face. “Don’t talk about such things,” he said in a low whisper.
Noel thought back on those times when, as Lilith, he had seduced and pumped (so to speak) the big German ace for information about Jayewardene and the Committee.
“I cared for you. I told you my deepest dreams. I planned for a life together-”
“I used you. Get over it,” Noel said.
Lohengrin’s expression registered both hurt and shock at the blunt reply. “Have you ever cared about anything?”
“Don’t go there, Klaus. I have many things I care about. You just don’t happen to be one of them.”
“Would you ever consider coming back to the Committee?” Lohengrin asked. “We could use you.”
“No, thank you.”
“So, the good work of the Committee means nothing to you?”
“No. I think you’re a bunch of idealist idiots.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because there are things I do care about.”
“I think you are a coward. I think you got scared in Jackson Square, and now you leave others to fight your battles.”
“And I think you haven’t gotten over discovering your Lili Marlene was a boy.” Noel clinked his glass against Lohengrin’s and sauntered away.
The conference began with the reception; the Louvre closed for a private party, and how classy was that? Tables laid out with the most expensive snack food known to man. Soft music supplied by a string quartet in somber attire. And milling around like guests at a party, the representatives of the bloodiest war on the planet. Over there by the stairs Prince Siraj, who now commanded the same people who had been trying to kill Bugsy in Egypt. On the far side of the space, Dr. Okimba radiated charm and goodwill on behalf of the PPA. And all around them, spreading out for miles, the greatest works of human art, as if by rubbing Okimba and Siraj against civilization, maybe some of the chrome would stick to them.
The whole thing appealed to Bugsy’s sense of the absurd. He slouched over to the bar-because what better symbol of peace than an open bar-and got another rum and Coke. The Committee was out in force. Lohengrin, smiling and preening in front of the cameras for an international news network. Garou still smirking at him coolly. Toad Man filling up on free prawns.
Cameo folded her arm in Bugsy’s, smiling the way she did when she didn’t mean it. “I just talked to Babel.”
“Uh-huh. Um. You’re wearing the earring. Are you…?”
“Ali’s here, but she’s letting me drive. Jayewardene’s had one of his hunches. There is going to be trouble. He thinks something may happen with Dr. Okimba.”
“Ah. Right. Who’s that?”
He felt her go stiff. “You’re joking, right?”
“Yes, totally joking,” Bugsy said. “Okimba. Doctor. Jurist. Big name in the PPA, chief negotiator, hasn’t killed anyone we know of. So what’s the word? Do we think someone’s going to go for him? Or is he going to turn all ninja assassin in the middle of the talks?”
“I don’t know. But Lohengrin needs people near him and ready without seeming like they are.”
“I’m on the case, boss,” Bugsy said, giving a snappy salute only slightly marred by the lack of two fingers. “Don’t worry about it too much though. Hunches. Gut feelings. Jayewardene’s just nervous, right?”
“Not really,” Cameo said.
“Where is the object of all concern?”
Cameo nodded toward the center of the room.
And there, standing alongside the bad guys’ head good guy, was Noel Matthews, looking slightly less smug than usual. The little Brit had changed a lot since the days when he’d used his skills at sleight of hand to flummox the aces of American Hero. He’d even changed in the time since their adventures in Texas and New Orleans with the nuclear kid. If it was possible for a man to look relieved and hunted at the same time, that was Noel Matthews.
“Hey,” Bugsy said. “Want to go kill two birds with one stone?”
“It depends,” she said. “What exactly do you plan to kill?”
“Trust me. We’ve got the perfect excuse to go hang close to Okimba. Let’s go talk some shop.” Bugsy tipped the bartender and walked across the most elegant, civilized room in Western civilization.
Noel didn’t see him coming until he was too close to ignore. “Mr. Tipton-Clarke,” Matthews said with a half smile. “Or do you prefer Hive?”
“I answer to any of them. You know Cameo?”
Noel nodded politely. Dr. Okimba smiled like he was hoping they’d both go away.
No chance of that.
“I was hoping I’d run into you,” Bugsy said. “We’re doing some work for the Committee, and I needed to ask you something. Maybe you can help out too, Doc.”
“I’m pleased to be of service,” Noel said in a tone that suggested he might not actually be pleased, “but-”
“It’s a little thing. All history and background stuff. Nothing important. I’ve been finding out some more about our partners in peace over in the PPA. It’s been a trip. Have you ever been to Vietnam, Doc?”
Okimba’s eyes went a degree wider. “No,” he said carefully. “I don’t believe I have.”
“We just got back,” Bugsy said with a smile. “Nice place. Lousy traffic. Anyway. I’ve been looking at the early life of our man Tom Weathers, and especially the nice retarded lady Sprout?”
“I am sure,” Noel said, “that Dr. Okimba isn’t-”
“No, please,” Okimba said. “Continue.”
“Bugs,” Cameo said, and the tone of her voice was a warning.
“Well, we all kind of know the Radical’s not the world’s most stable guy. No offense, Doc. But it turns out this one girl, Sprout, is like the only person on the planet he’s not willing to sacrifice. So I was wondering how you knew to grab her in particular.”
“I do not understand,” Dr. Okimba said. “It was Bahir who took Sprout.”
“Well, sure,” Bugsy said, “but that’s Noel. Bahir, Lilith, and
… Oh. Shit. That was still a secret, wasn’t it? Look, Doc. Forget I said anything, okay?”
It took all of Tom’s self-control to keep from frying both men where they stood on general principles. “How dare this man show his face at a peace conference!” he boomed, volume rising. His bull-hippo bellow echoed from the pyramidal roof; everyone else had stopped talking at once. Heads turned to stare. “I demand that this man be arrested immediately! He is a spy, an assassin, an international war criminal! I demand justice.”
Jonathan Hive’s eyes had gone wide in a suddenly pale face. “I didn’t mean to pee on anybody’s parade-”
Around them voices broke the silence like so many falling crystal goblets, some brittle with confusion, others sharp with anger. Tom’s fury had welled up like lava as his own voice rose. It was the look in the Englishman’s indigo eyes-half stricken, half calculating-that convinced Tom of his guilt. “You ratfucker,” he screamed, making no pretense of hiding his own voice. “You kidnapped my daughter!”
He raised his arms as if reaching for Noel Matthews’s throat. Flame billowed red from his palms.
“Oh, shit,” Bugsy said, and his body literally exploded into a cloud of green wasps. His clothing puddled on the white marble floor.
Noel threw himself to the side, and the blast of flame roared past him. He felt its searing heat upon his cheeks, smelled burning hair, and felt the bite of fire on his shoulder.