Paris Match(5)

                     3


            Rick’s van took so many turns down so many narrow streets that Stone lost his bearings. After a time, however, the van slowed for a left turn, and Stone saw, for the first time, the gates to the new hotel. They turned and drove through a handsome archway into a large courtyard. A building that was probably impressive under ordinary circumstances had been concealed by acres of scaffolding and plastic cloth.

            “I believe they’re sandblasting the limestone facade,” Rick said.

            “I hope the inside looks better,” Stone said.

            “What was this place before it was a hotel?” Rick asked.

            “It was a hotel,” Stone replied. “Before that it was a hospital that Marcel duBois’s father had bought and turned into a cheap hotel. Marcel has now turned it into an expensive one.”

            Stone alit from the big van and discovered that it had been followed by three black SUVs, which now disgorged Dino and Viv Bacchetti, Mike Freeman, and the top policemen of Los Angeles and Boston and their luggage.

            Dino came over and peeked into Rick’s van. “I want one of these,” he said.

            Stone introduced everybody to Rick, while a team of bellmen erupted from the hotel to collect all their luggage.

            “Is this place finished?” Dino asked, looking around.

            “Almost,” Stone said. “The paint in your room may still be wet, though.”

            There was no check-in process; they were immediately escorted into elevators, and Stone was shown into a large, elegantly furnished suite, while Dino and Viv were put in an adjoining bedroom.

            A large crystal vase of calla lilies stood on a table in Stone’s living room, and he read the attached card. Welcome to your new home in Paris, it said, and was signed by Marcel duBois.

            Dino and Viv unpacked and returned to the sitting room, where tea and some light food had been brought up.

            “When do we see Marcel duBois?” Viv asked.

            “You’ll see him at dinner. Dino, when do your meetings start?”

            “The day after tomorrow. We’re supposed to get over the jet lag during that time. What was the deal with the white van?” Dino asked.

            “It contained Lance Cabot,” Stone explained, “who wanted to tell me that the Russians haven’t forgotten about me.”

            “Oh, shit,” Dino said.

            “Am I going to have to provide your security?” Viv asked.

            “No, Lance has thoughtfully taken care of that. Rick LaRose, who you just met, is the CIA’s Paris station chief, newly in the job.”

            “What’s Lance doing in Paris?” Dino asked.

            “He says he came to help Rick settle into his new office, but I tend to think that nothing Lance says is ever entirely true.”

            “How long do we have until dinner?” Viv asked.

            Stone looked at his watch. “An hour.”

            “Then please excuse me, I have a lot to do.” She vanished into their room.

            “Me, too,” Dino said. “See you later.” He followed Viv.

            Stone went to do his own unpacking and freshening.

            —

            THE WHITE Mercedes van awaited them in the courtyard, sans Rick.