Private Paris (Private 10)

“His trial is coming up,” I said. “Maybe I’ll stay in Paris until it’s over.”

“Really?”

“No,” I said, sighing. “Thanks for your work with Sherman. Job well done.”

“I’ve just been a regular in the ICU, but thanks.”

I hung up, feeling weirdly disconnected from my “normal” life back in L.A.

How long had I been in Paris? Five, six days?

It seemed longer. It seemed like—

“I have seen twenty-nine AB-16 tags just since we left the airport,” Louis said. “A week ago, there were none.”

“Okay…” I said, yawning.

“I think this is a tipping point,” he said at last. “With the rocket grenade and the AK-47 assault rifles, the government won’t have a choice now. They’ll declare martial law.”

Chapter 78

7th Arrondissement

Noon

INSIDE THE WAR School, Major Sauvage and Captain Mfune stood at attention with four of their classmates. They had only just been summoned to the office of Brig

adier General Anton Georges, commander of École de Guerre.

General Georges was a tall, laconic man, proud of his bureaucratic skills. Sauvage, however, thought him a fraud and a jackass because he had risen to his rank and station in life without ever once experiencing combat.

“Gentlemen,” General Georges began. “Paris and les banlieues will be subject to martial law as of nineteen hundred hours, and to curfew between twenty-three hundred hours and oh six hundred hours. All French students of the War School are needed, especially the six of you, who speak Arabic. You will be deployed in command positions this evening throughout the eastern suburbs.”

General Georges said they’d be issued weapons and combat gear, and he handed out their assignments.

Sauvage wanted to pump his fist in the air when he saw where they were putting him. Mfune was also pleased.

“Go home and take care of your personal affairs,” the general said. “Rendezvous at seventeen hundred hours. Dismissed.”

“General?” one officer said. “Any idea how long we will be in the field?”

“Unclear, Captain,” General Georges said. “Depends on how quickly the AB-16 movement can be brought under control.”

The officer groaned softly. Sauvage understood and glanced at him scornfully. War School was a necessary stop on the way to high command. The officer was asking what would become of his career if he didn’t get to check the “War School” box on his résumé.

Another jackass, thought the major. Can’t he see the possibilities? No, of course not. He’s like the general: incapable of it.

Sauvage, however, saw all the possibilities, and he was almost beside himself with excitement. The army was putting them inside the flash points!

As the general was dismissing them, an audacious idea popped into Sauvage’s head. It bloomed and became part of the plot in an instant.

Outside, Sauvage told Mfune what he had in mind, and they split up with promises to stay in close touch. The major took the train to Pantin, and went straight to the Canal de l’Ourcq, where he entered the condemned linen factory through the footpath door.

The back room had been stripped of the whiteboards, the television screen, the table, chairs, and couch. Out in the cavernous space he found Haja and Amé finishing up beneath the sculpture.

Sauvage told them about the martial law decision and a change of plans.

“Wait,” Haja said. “You’ve already built this thing?”