In the far distance, across the river, the Eiffel Tower rose above the city like some majestic rocket ship. Ganin wanted to meet him there. But when?
It was getting late. Nearly midnight. But Carter felt better than he had for a long time. A part of him cautioned against rising to Ganin’s bait. Yet another inner voice told him he had no choice.
“I would like us to go now,” Lydia said, breaking into his thoughts. “Back to London and then to the States.”
Carter shook his head. “But we are leaving Paris tonight.”
She brightened. “Now?”
“In a little while. Before morning.”
She sagged again. “You are going off to meet him somewhere. What about me?”
“I’m going alone. You’ll take the car and pick me up at exactly two o’clock.”
“Where?”
“Along the Quai d’Orsay. Do you know it?”
“East of the Eiffel Tower.”
“That’s it. Come at two and again at two-thirty. But stop for no one or nothing else. Do you understand?”
She nodded. “And if you do not show up?”
“You’re on your own. Get back to the States however you can and put an ad in the Washington Post: ‘Nick’s friend would like to meet with Smitty, care of the newspaper.’ Someone will come for you.”
“Like Kobelev?”
“Possibly. It’ll be up to you,” Carter said. He flipped on the headlights and pulled away from the curb.
“Don’t do this thing, Nick,” Lydia said.
Carter said nothing, and she looked away.
“I had to try,” she said. “I’ll be there. At two, and again at two-thirty.”
Carter lit a cigarette, and they made their way through the fairly light traffic in silence for a while.
“This won’t be over with tonight,” he said at length.
“Perhaps it will be.”
“Not unless he kills me, and I don’t think he means to do that.”
“Then why are you going to him?” Lydia almost screamed.
“To kill him,” Carter said.
They drove the rest of the way in silence, all around the vast park, finally around to the Avenue de Versailles, which skirted the Seine on the opposite bank from the Eiffel Tower.
Near the Pont d’Iéna, which crossed the river directly in front of the tower, Carter pulled over, jumped out, and headed across on foot without looking back.
She would either be back at two or she wouldn’t. Carter found that he didn’t really care. Or at least he didn’t at that moment.
For now his every thought went forward, to the upcoming confrontation. Just him and Ganin.
Ten
Despite the lateness of the hour, there were a number of people wandering around the base of the Eiffel Tower, including two lovers who sat down on one of the benches.
The tower itself was closed to the public for the night, and the restaurant on the first level was shut down, apparently for renovations.
Carter kept to one side of the broad promenade as he moved up to the base of the huge structure. He kept searching the shadows for a sign that Ganin was there, but he saw nothing. He looked up into the intricate latticework of the tower. Ganin wouldn’t be down there waiting, Carter mused; he would be up top somewhere. Hiding in the darkness. It was logical.
A gendarme came up from the Champs de Mars and passed under the tower. Carter nodded, and the cop touched the brim of his cap.
On the far side of the base, Carter waited until the cop was out of sight, and then he quickly angled over to the southwest leg, where if he remembered correctly there was access to the stairs.
A large iron gate blocked the way. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, Carter pulled out his stiletto and started to pick the massive iron lock, but the latch came open in his hands.
The gate swung open, and Carter looked up. Ganin! The Russian had come this way and had left the gate open as an invitation.
Carter slipped Hugo back into its chamois sheath on his forearm, withdrew Wilhelmina, checked to make sure there was a round in the chamber and the safety was off, then stepped through the gate, closed and locked it behind him, and started up slowly, one step at a time into the darkness and whatever awaited him above.
Although he understood that Ganin would probably not make a serious try to kill him that night, he could not afford to take any chances. Whatever else the Russian assassin was, he definitely was not a fool. If a clear opportunity presented itself, he would not pass it up, no matter what Kobelev might have to say about it later. Carter’s death, after all, was the entire reason for their elaborate scheme.
The huge structure angled inward toward the first level, mostly dark now that the restaurant was closed.
Near the head of the first run of iron stairs, Carter stopped. Below he could see the couples on the promenade, and on the river a bâteau mouche moved slowly under the bridge. He tried to pick out the gendarme but couldn’t. The cop was either in the shadows or had moved back to the other side of the base.
Far above, the tower was bathed in lights, which threw crazy patterns within patterns on the gridwork structure. There were ten thousand places for an assassin to hide in waiting. Ten thousand places for the perfect ambush.
The tall iron gate blocking the first-level deck from the stairwell was ajar, just as the lower gate had been. Ganin had come this way. Again, an open invitation.
Carter eased the gate the rest of the way open, the thick hinges well oiled and noiseless.
Gripping his Luger tightly, and keeping low, Carter burst up onto the deck and rolled right then left, diving for the deeper shadows at the side of the enclosed structure as a single, silenced shot ricocheted off the metal rail less than a foot from where he had emerged from the stairwell.
It had come from above. There was no doubt of it.
Carter crouched there in the darkness, his every sense straining for a sound... any noise that would betray Ganin’s location.
He heard it. Above. Far above. A chance scraping of shoe leather against an iron stair tread. Ganin was on the move. He was on his way up, which didn’t make sense. At the top he would be cornered, unless he figured on using the elevator to come down while Carter was moving up the stairs. If that were the case, Ganin would be a sitting duck, an easy target as he passed Carter on the stairs.
An apparent mistake. But as far as Carter knew, the Russian did not make mistakes.
He worked his way along the restaurant wall to the center, where again the gate to the stairwell had been left ajar.
For a long moment he stared at the open gate, but then he turned and went back toward the core of the tower. Around the corner he found the electrical panels behind a wire cage. Heavy cables ran to the elevator motors.
Holstering Wilhelmina, Carter withdrew Hugo, and within sixty seconds he had the cage open and was inside.
Signs in several languages were posted all over the place, warning of the high voltage.
In the semidarkness Carter studied the layout for a minute or so, finally opening one of the large panels. Inside were two massive switches marked elevator main power.
Carter gingerly reached out and pulled both switches to the off position. Then he closed the panel, stepped back out of the cage, and relocked the door.
He glanced up. Whatever happened now, Ganin would not be taking the elevator down. Carter could now be sure that the Russian would be stuck on top.
Yet even as Carter thought it, and as he moved silently back to the stairs and started up, he wondered if the solution hadn’t been too simple. Would a man such as Ganin have overlooked the obvious? Or did he mean to force the issue, despite his protestations on the telephone to the contrary? Perhaps this was the killing ground after all. Perhaps only one of them would be coming down...