Gunny was on duty. The marine saluted her and unlocked the door. Mary walked into her office and turned on the light. She stood in the doorway, frozen. On the wall, someone had sprayed in red paint, GO HOME BEFORE YOU DIE. She backed out of the room, white-faced, and ran down the hall to the reception desk.
Gunny stood at attention. “Yes, Madam Ambassador?”
“Gunny—Wh-who’s been in my office?” Mary demanded.
“Why, no one that I know of, ma’am.”
“Let me see your roster sheet.” She tried to keep her voice from quavering.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gunny pulled out the visitors’ access sheet and handed it to her. Each name had the time of entry listed after it. She started at five-thirty, the time she had left the office, and scanned the list. There were a dozen names.
Mary looked up at the marine guard. “The people on this list—were they all escorted to the offices they visited?”
“Always, Madam Ambassador. No one goes up to the second floor without an escort. Is something wrong?”
Something was very wrong.
Mary said, “Please send someone to my office to paint out that obscenity on the wall.”
She turned and hurried outside, afraid she was going to be sick. The cable could wait until morning.
Dr. Louis Desforges was waiting for Mary when she arrived at the restaurant. He stood up as she approached the table.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Mary tried to sound normal.
He pulled out her chair. “That’s perfectly all right. I received your message. You were very kind to join me.”
She wished now that she had not agreed to have dinner with him. She was too nervous and upset. She pressed her hands together to keep them from trembling.
He was observing her. “Are you all right, Madam Ambassador?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m fine.” Go home before you die. “I think I’d like a straight Scotch, please.” She hated Scotch, but she hoped it would relax her.
The doctor ordered drinks, then said, “It can’t be easy being an ambassador—especially a woman in this country. Romanians are male chauvinists, you know.”
Mary forced a smile. “Tell me about yourself.” Anything to take her mind off the threat.
“I am afraid there is not much to tell that is exciting.”
“You mentioned that you fought in the underground in Algeria. That sounds exciting.”
He shrugged. “We live in terrible times. I believe that every man must risk something so that in the end he does not have to risk everything. The terrorist situation is literally that—terrifying. We must put an end to it.” His voice was filled with passion.
He’s like Edward, Mary thought. Edward was always passionate about his beliefs. Dr. Desforges was a man who could not be easily swayed. He was willing to risk his life for what he believed in.
He was saying, “…if I had known that the price of my fighting would be the lives of my wife and children—” He stopped. His knuckles were white against the table. “Forgive me. I did not bring you here to talk about my troubles. Let me recommend the lamb. They do it very well here.”
“Fine,” Mary said.
He ordered dinner and a bottle of wine, and they talked. Mary began to relax, to forget the frightening warning painted in red. She was finding it surprisingly easy to talk to this attractive Frenchman. In an odd way, it was like talking to Edward. It was amazing how she and Louis shared so many of the same beliefs and felt the same way about so many things. Louis Desforges was bora in a small town in France, and Mary was born in a small town in Kansas, five thousand miles apart, and yet their backgrounds were so similar. His father had been a farmer and had scrimped and saved to send Louis to a medical school in Paris.
“My father was a wonderful man, Madam Ambassador.”
“Madam Ambassador sounds so formal.”
“Mrs. Ashley?”
“Mary.”
“Thank you, Mary.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome, Louis.”
Mary wondered what his personal life was like. He was handsome and intelligent. He could surely have all the women he wanted. She wondered if he were living with anyone.