“Well let’s not be the Titanic,” Neeley muttered as she pulled the car to the curb in front of an ultra-modern office building. The building appeared out of place amid the ancient city, but Neeley had to admire its clean, elegant lines as being aesthetically pleasing.
A small sign on the door front advertised the building as the offices of Doctor Bernard Wiss and if Neeley's French was a match for the complicated medical lexicon, then Doctor Wiss was a straightener of teeth; the proverbial orthodontist. The two women entered the lobby and approached the receptionist area, which was empty of customers.
"Are there any other practitioners in this building in addition to Doctor Wiss?" Neeley's French was not as succinct as she would have liked.
The young woman looked up from her computer screen and shook her head in the negative.
"May we see Doctor Wiss then?"
The girl, whose plump breast proclaimed 'Gaby' on a plastic smile of a nametag shook her head. "It is our day to do paperwork. The doctor does not see patients today."
"I need to see the doctor." Neeley and Hannah's perfectly straight teeth seemed to belie any medical emergency.
"I am sorry but—"
Neeley finally gave up on the respectful strategy and reached across the perky red and white counter to grab a handful of Gaby's shirt.
Hannah noticed that Neeley's French sounded much better when it contained the element of threat. "Get the doctor, now!"
Gaby was evidently not paid enough to serve as bouncer because she quickly used the phone to do as she was told.
Hannah was worried about their presence in the office. It certainly didn't look like the kind of place Gant would send Neeley. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe the address was wrong or there had been some move or change that Gant didn't anticipate. All Hannah knew was that Neeley was acting stranger than normal. Her aggressive behavior with the receptionist was to be noted as well at the loaded pistol in her jacket pocket. Ultimately, Hannah hoped she was wrong about why they were here.
The door to the inner office opened abruptly and a very handsome man appeared. He looked at the receptionist with some irritation and it was obvious that his French was about the sudden interruption. Gaby merely shrugged her shoulders and pointed at the two troublemakers.
Later, Hannah would remember that the irritated orthodontist appeared to swoon. Just like in one of those British costume dramas. Except it looked ridiculous happening to a man over six feet in a white smock.
Hannah wasn’t surprised by the change in Neeley. She quite literally energized, as if she had grabbed a live wire and popped it in her ear. The roots of her hair crackled with an energy that seemed to bolt right through to her toes. Her hand was fumbling for the gun she’d taken from the man in the park and that was what dragged Hannah's attention from Doctor Wiss.
"What are you doing?" Hannah's voice was louder than a whisper.
Doctor Wiss swiftly turned and slammed the door behind him. Neeley was already after him.
Hannah was right behind her. "Jean-Philippe, oui?"
Neeley had the doorknob in her hand, ready to blow it off the door if there were resistance. There wasn't and she and Hannah were chasing the white-coated figure down a hallway.
Neeley was cursing under her breath. Hannah was more fascinated with Neeley's demeanor then the sudden appearance of Jean-Philippe, which she had suspected would be the case.
So much for cold and calculating. At the moment Neeley looked like the model for female rage. Neeley reached the door at the end of the hallway as it shut in her face. She didn't even pause. She slammed her foot into it and the jam splintered. And then the three were in a small room cluttered with clay impressions of heads and crooked teeth and piles of wicked looking metal appliances.
Jean-Philippe's voice was magical and lilting. Hannah had no idea what he was saying, but the tone and hand gestures seemed to be saying, 'please don't kill me.'
Neeley's answer was rapid-fire and caustic, so much so that Hannah waited for the red stain to form somewhere on the white-coated chest.
Hannah was sorely regretting taking Spanish in high school when Neeley abruptly switched to English. It seemed that her level of anger had forced her frontal lobe to revert to its native tongue. Jean-Philippe followed suit with that marvelous French accent that sounded so sexy. Hannah looked at this man who had so affected her friend's life and could well imagine how things had happened. Hannah stared at his blatant good looks and thought she might have carried a bomb for him too when she was 19.
"Cheri, I thought you were dead!"
Hannah winced and decided it was a poor opening line.
"Well, no shit, you worthless pile of puke. You hand me a damn bomb, kiss me on the top of the head and push me on a plane. I thought you were writhing in some private circle of hell reserved for total sons-of-a-bitches and here you are straightening teeth on Rue d'Adelshoffen."
Jean-Philippe was either a brilliant actor or his shock was genuine. "A bomb? What are you saying? I gave you no bomb. I loved you."
"Cut the crap. The box, big red bow. Remember?"
"But that was not a bomb!"
"Right. I forgot, once the C-4 and wires were pulled apart it was not a bomb. Just a box of clay and electronics."
Jean-Philippe wiped a hand across his dampening forehead and found a chair so that Neeley's gun was no longer aimed squarely at his heart but rather was pointing at the smooth stretch of skin between his lovely blue eyes.
"You must believe me, Cherie. I did not know it was a bomb. They told me it was papers. Secret papers that had to get to London."
Neeley's voice was losing its hysteria and she spoke in measured, deep tones that Hannah found even more frightening. "Who is they, Jean-Philippe and why would a box of papers have weighed a couple of pounds?"
"I thought they weighted the box so it would appear to be something other than a box of papers."
"Tell me you weren't this stupid when I was sleeping with you."
"You think that is what it was, that I was stupid? OK, maybe you are correct. I prefer you think I am stupid than a murderer."
Neeley leaned against an instrument cabinet for some support and kept the gun steady. "Just tell me what happened. Start at the beginning."
Hannah found a small stool in the corner of the room and pulled it over to Neeley's side. She perched herself on its shiny top. Neeley glanced at her and Hannah kept her face non-committal allowing her friend latitude to work this out in her own way.
Jean-Philippe watched the silent communication between the women and he seemed to relax. Gaby's concerned voice through the door was answered with a relatively calm voice, full of reassurance that must have satisfied the bewildered receptionist. At least the cops wouldn't be busting down the door, Hannah thought with some relief.
"To begin with, Neeley, you must remember those were turbulent times and I was an idealistic young man."
"Skip the bullshit, Jean-Philippe. We were young and dumb and if I remember correctly, we all spent a lot more time fucking than spouting ideologies. And all you gave a damn about was making money. There was no idealism there."
He seemed diminished by her harsh words and shook his head. "We spent much time making love and I was trying to make my mark on the world, yes, I admit that."
Neeley laughed bitterly. "Skip to the part where you decided to blow me up."
"It was not like that, I told you. The man from the American said they needed a courier to take some papers to London. He offered a lot of money. Money that we could have used to be together."