were American military uniforms all over the airport. I saw
some XII Corps MPs, prowling in pairs. But I wasn’t worried. I
figured they were on routine co-operation with the civilian
cops. They weren’t looking for us. I had the feeling that
Willard’s telex was going to stay on Swan’s desk for an hour or twO.
We boarded on time and stuffed our bags in the overhead.
Buckled up and settled in. There were a dozen military on the
plane with us. Paris always was a popular R&R destination for
people stationed in Germany. The weather was still misty. But it
wasn’t bad enough to delay us any. We took off on time and
climbed over the grey city and struck out south and west across
pastel fields and huge tracts of forest. Then we climbed through
the cloud into the sun and we couldn’t see the ground any
more.
It was a short flight. We started our descent during my second
cup of coffee. Summer was drinking juice. She looked nervous.
Part excited, and part worried. I figured she had never been to
Paris before. And I figured she had never been AWOL before,
either. I could see it was weighing on her. Truth is it was
weighing on me a little, too. It was a complicating factor. I could
have done without it. But I wasn’t surprised to be hit with it. It
had always been the obvious next step for Willard to take. Now I figured we were going to be chased around the world by
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BOLO messages. Be on the lookout for. Or else we were going
to have a generalized all-points bulletin dumped on us.
We landed at Roissy-Charles de Gaulle and were off the plane
and in the jetway by eleven thirty in the morning. The airport
was crowded. The taxi line was a zoo, just like it had been when
Joe and I arrived the last time. So we gave up on it and walked
to the navette station. Waited in line and climbed into the little
bus. It was packed and uncomfortable. But Paris was warmer
than Frankfurt had been. There was a watery sun out and I
knew the city was going to look spectacular.
‘Been here before?’ I said.
‘Never,’ Summer said.
‘Don’t look at the first twenty klicks,’ I said. ‘Wait until we’re
inside the Pariphrique.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Like a ring road. Like the Beltway. That’s where the good
part starts.’
‘Your morn live inside it?’
I nodded. ‘On one of the nicest avenues in town. Where all
the embassies are. Near the Eiffel Tower.’
‘Are we going straight there?’
‘Tomorrow,’ I said. ‘We’re going to be tourists first.’
‘Why?’
‘I have to wait until my brother gets in. I can’t go on my own.
We have to go together.’
She said nothing to that. Just glanced at me. The bus started
up and pulled away from the kerb. She watched out the window
the whole way. I could see by the reflection of her face in the
glass that she agreed with me. Inside the Priph(}rique was
better.
We got out at the Place de l’Opra and stood on the sidewalk
and let the rest of the passengers swarm ahead of us. I figured
we should choose a hotel and dump our bags before we did
anything else.
We walked south on the Rue de la Paix, through the Place
Vend6me, down to the Tuileries. Then we turned right and walked straight up the Champs Elysees. There might have been
better places to walk with a pretty woman on a lazy day under a
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watery winter sun, but right then I couldn’t readily recall any.
We made a left onto the Rue Marbeuf and came out on the
Avenue George V just about opposite the George V hotel.
‘OK for you?’ I said.
‘Will they let us in?’ Summer asked.
‘Only one way to find out.’
We crossed the street and a guy in a top hat opened the door
for us. The girl at the desk had a bunch of little flags on her
lapel, one for each language she spoke. I used French, which
pleased her. I gave her two vouchers and asked for two rooms.