Private Paris (Private 10)

Juge Fromme said, “General, I’m sure the minister of justice will agree to Monsieur Morgan’s proposal. He’s as sick of Morgan as you are, and wants him out of France as soon as possible.”

The general said, “It’s on the minister, then. After Morgan makes his statement, I want him taken straight to de Gaulle and put on the first plane out of Paris.”

Nodding, I said, “With one important stop on the way.”

I thought the general was going to punch me.

Chapter 110

11th Arrondissement

8:04 a.m.

MICHELE HERBERT WAS awake but drowsy when I knocked on her hospital room door. I still had mud all over me and wore a pair of ill-fitting boots that one of the soldiers had given me. I hadn’t showered or shaved or slept. I hadn’t even been allowed to return to the Plaza Athénée to pay my bill or gather my things. They sent Louis to do all that, with orders to meet me at de Gaulle.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a weak, slurred voice.

“I owe you dinner for saving my life,” I said, and produced a cup of ice chips.

Michele smiled wanly. “Bon appétit.”

“They say you’re going to be okay.”

She nodded, swallowed, and gestured at the television, which was on mute and showing still shots of Sauvage, Mfune, and Hamid.

“I saw what happened,” she said.

“Fighting back. You were an important part of it.”

“Too much hatred in the world,” she said.

“Agreed,” I said.

“Not enough love.”

“Double agreed.”

Michele smiled again, and blinked sleepily.

“They’re booting me out of France,” I said. “My jet’s coming in to get me in a couple of hours.”

“Your jet?”

Before I could reply, a man said, “What the hell is he doing in here?”

Looking over my injured shoulder, I saw François, her agent with the crazy hair, coming into the room with a cup of coffee.

“Paying my respects,” I said.

“You almost got her killed!” François shouted. “One of the greatest artists of her time and you almost kill her!”

“François,” Michele said. “He uncovered the AB-16 plot.”

“I don’t care,” François said. “He’s a danger to you, Michele.”

That seemed to amuse her. She looked at me. “True?”

“I hope not,” I said, and then caught something out of the corner of my eye on the screen. “Do you have the controls for the television?”