“A demain, ” he said sternly, then signaled his men to go on. Hood, Stoll, and Hausen followed.
As they walked briskly through the terminal, Hood wondered if it had been coincidental. that Ballon had selected the salutation “See you tomorrow,” which in French also reflected where they were going.
Ballon led the group to a pair of waiting vans. Without undo fuss, he made certain that Stoll was comfortable between Nancy and Hood. Ballon got in front, beside the driver. There were three other men in the rearmost seat.
None carried arms. Those were in the second van, along with Hausen.
“I feel like the botanist on HMS Bounty,” Stoll remarked to Hood when they were under way. “He had to transplant the breadfruit they were after and Captain Bligh really looked out for him.” “Where does that leave the rest of us?” Nancy said with a scowl.
“Bound for Tahiti,” Hood said.
Nancy didn’t smile. She didn’t even look at him. Hood had the impression of being on the Ship of Fools, not the Bounty, Without the romanticism of memory to obscure it, he remembered now, vividly, how Nancy would regularly get into moods. She’d go from sad to depressed to angry, as if she were sliding down a muddy slope. The moods wouldn’t last long, but when they came over her things could get nasty. He didn’t know what scared him more: the fact that he’d forgotten them or the fact that she was in one now.
Ballon turned around. “I spent what was left of favors owed to me getting you into France. I had already used up most of them obtaining the search warrant to enter Demain.
It expires tonight at midnight but I don’t want to waste it.
We’ve been watching the plant for days by remote video camera, hoping to see something that would justify entering. But so far, there’s been nothing.” “What do you hope we’ll find?” Hood asked.
“Ideally?” Ballon said. “Faces of known terrorists.
Members of his terrible New Jacobin paramilitary force, a resurrection of the league which did not hesitate to murder old women or young children if they belonged to the upper classes.” The Colonel used a key attached to his wrist to open the glove compartment. He handed Hood a folder. Inside were over a dozen drawings and blurry photographs.
“Those are known Jacobins,” Ballon said. “I need a match with one of them in order to go in.” Hood showed the file to Stoll. “Are you going to be able to see a face clear enough to make a positive ID?” Stoll flipped through the pictures. “Maybe. Depends on what someone’s standing behind, whether or not they’re moving, how much time I have to do the imaging—” “Those are a lot of conditions,” Ballon said irately. “I need to place one of these monsters inside the factory.” “There’s absolutely no leeway in the warrant?” Hood asked.
“None,” Ballon said angrily. “But I won’t let poor resolution allow us to pretend an innocent man is a guilty one just so we can go inside.” “Gee,” Stoll said. “That doesn’t put too much pressure on me, does it?” He returned the folder to Ballon.
“That is what separates professionals from amateurs,” Ballon noted.
Nancy glared at Ballon. “I’m thinking that a professional wouldn’t have let these terrorists get inside. I’m also thinking that Dominique has stolen, possibly killed, and is ready to start wars. But he gets the job done. Does that make him a professional?” Ballon replied evenly, “Men like Dominique disregard the law. We don’t have that luxury.” “Bull,” she said. “I live in Paris. Most Americans are treated like shit by everyone from landlords to gendarmes.
The laws don’t protect us.” “But you obey the laws, don’t you?” he asked.
“Of course.” Ballon said, “One side operating outside the law is still just that. A rogue force. But both sides operating outside the law is chaos.” Hood decided to get in the middle of this one by changing the subject. “How long until we reach the factory?” “Another fifteen minutes or so.” Ballon was still looking at Nancy, who had turned away. “Mlle. Bosworth, your arguments are sound and I regret having spoken harshly to M. Stoll. But there is a great deal at stake.” He looked at all of them. “Have any of you considered the risks of success?” Hood leaned forward. “No, we haven’t. What do you mean?” “If we work surgically and only Dominique falls, his company and its holdings can still survive. But if they fall, billions of dollars will be lost. The French economy and its government will be seriously destabilized. And that will create a vacuum similar to those we have seen in the past.” He looked past them toward the van behind them. “A vacuum in which German nationalism historically has flourished. In which German politicians stir the blood.” His eyes shifted to Hood. “In which they look with greed at Austria, Sudetenland, Alsace-Lorraine. MM. Hood and Stoll, Mlle. Bosworth— we are on a tightrope. Caution is our balancing pole and the law is our net. With them, we will reach the other side.” Nancy turned to look out the window. Hood knew she wouldn’t apologize. But with her, the fact that she’d stopped arguing meant the same thing.
Hood said, “I also believe in the law and I believe in the systems we’ve built to protect it. We’ll help you get to the other side of that tightrope, Colonel.” Ballon thanked him with a small nod, the first appreciative display he’d shown since they arrived.
“Thanks, Boss,” Stoll sighed. “Like I said, that doesn’t put too much pressure on me, does it?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR Thursday, 9:33 P.M., Wunstorf, Germany
When the car died, Jody had lifted her foot from the gas pedal, lay back on the headrest, and shut her eyes.
“I can’t move,” she panted.
Herbert turned on the overhead light and leaned toward her. “Sweetheart,” he said softly, “you have to.” “No.” He began pulling wads of cotton-soft padding from the car seat. “Our car’s dead. We will be too if we don’t get out.” “I can’t,” she repeated.
Herbert moved the collar of her blouse aside and gently dabbed at the blood on her wound. The hole wasn’t large.
He wouldn’t be surprised if the bullet was a.22 fired from some homemade piece of crap by one of the kids in the crowd.
Stupid punks, he thought. They’d puke at the sight of their own damn blood.
“I’m afraid,” Jody said suddenly. She started to whimper. “I was wrong. I’m still afraid!” “It’s okay,” Herbert said. “You’re asking too much of yourself.” Herbert felt bad for the kid, but he couldn’t afford to lose her. Not now. He didn’t doubt for a moment that Karin would be coming after him, alone or in force. The caduceus of Nazism had to be coated with the blood of the conquered to serve as an emblem of power.
“Listen, Jody,” Herbert said. “We’re close to where we started, about a mile from the main road. If we can get there we’ll be okay.” Herbert turned to the glove compartment and opened it. He found a bottle of acetaminophen inside and gave two to Jody. Then he reached into the backseat, retrieved one of the water bottles, and gave her a drink. When she was finished, he let his hands drop behind the seat. He was feeling for something.
“Jody,” he said, “we need to get out of here.” He found what he was looking for. “Sweetie,” he said, “I’ve got to fix the wound.” She opened her eyes. “How?” she asked, wincing as she shifted her shoulder.
“I’ve got to take the bullet out. But there’s no tape for a bandage or thread for a suture. When I’m done I’m going to have to cauterize it.” She was suddenly more alert. “You’re going to burn me?” “I’ve done it before,” Herbert said. “We have to get out of here and I haven’t got the horsepower to do that.” He said, “What I’m going to do will hurt, but you’re hurting now. We’ve got to fix that.” She lay her head back.
“Hon? We don’t have time to waste.” “All right,” she rasped. “Do it.” Holding his hands low where she couldn’t see, he lit a match and held it to the tip of his Urban Skinner to sterilize it. After a few seconds he blew out the flame and used his fingers to gently open the wound. The back of the shell glinted in the yellow light of the car. Taking a deep breath, Herbert placed his left hand over her mouth. “Bite me if you have to,” he said as he raised the knife.
Jody groaned.
The trick to treating a bullet wound was not to cause more damage removing the shell than it caused going in.
But it had to be removed lest it work its way around the tissue, ripping it or even fragmenting itself as they fled.