Pruett managed to shake the thought as he looked at the photo, and made a mental note to check on his nephew’s progress over at Data Collection the following day. He was a good kid, he decided, picking up where his father had left off at such a young age. Pruett felt a little guilty for having seen George only a few times since his arrival at the Agency, but his job… hell, it’s always the job.
The burning pain in his stomach lessened as he continued to drink directly from the milk carton. The soothing effect was better than what he got from the antacid tablets he carried with him at all times. It’s also healthier, he thought, staring at the Plexiglas paperweight.
It took Cameron Stone one hour to walk the stretch of the beautifully landscaped gardens between the Place de la Concorde, across from the American Embassy, and the Louvre. He’d decided to spend his day off discovering Paris all over again, especially after the turmoil of the past couple of days. As the noontime sun warmed up the air, tourists gathered in front of the huge glass-and-steel pyramids in the center of the Louvre. The controversial pyramids had been built several years back to modernize access to the museum’s different wings.
Cameron got in line to follow the tourists down the escalator that would take him to the underground reception and ticket area, the place from which all museum tours started.
He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he spun around.
“Marie!”
She was dressed casually, just a plain pair of Levi’s and a long-sleeve white T-shirt. Her long hair was tied in a ponytail and she wore large gold earrings.
“Hello, Cameron.”
Once more, Cameron felt strongly attracted to her, and a bit guilty because of it. “You… are you all right? How’s the head wound?”
“What head wound?”
Cameron smiled, but the smile quickly vanished. “Did you follow me here?”
“Cameron, there’s something you must know. It’s about the rumor at Athena I told you about the other night.”
“C’mon, you know I can’t get—”
“Please listen to what I have to say. The information they have is very disturbing.”
“‘They?’ Who are you talking about?”
Marie shifted her gaze to the left. Cameron turned his head and spotted the man with the gray beard. The man from the rue de Cujas.
Instinctively, he reached under his coat. Marie put her hand over his. “Relax. He’s on our side.”
Marie waved at the man. He approached them.
“Hello, Monsieur Stone. My name is Jean-Francois. I was Monsieur Claude Guilloux’s bodyguard.”
Cameron blinked twice. Bodyguard? “Is that what you were doing back at the hotel? Protecting Marie?”
“Trying to, monsieur. Simply trying to conform to one of Monsieur Guilloux’s final requests. Come now, please.”
“Where? I’m not going anywh—”
“This won’t take long,” Marie said. “You’ll hear for yourself why Athena killed my husband.”
Cameron hesitated. The operative in him told him to stick to the rules. Contact Potter and get approval. But his instincts told him otherwise. Marie had talked of possible corruption in Athena’s ranks. If Athena had indeed destroyed the Russian spacecraft, then in Cameron’s logical mind, the problem demanded CIA intervention. Although Cameron seldom deviated from the book — he’d known too many who had and had died — his experience told him this was an exception. Going through proper channels to obtain approval might take too long. Potter might not even sanction further intervention. Cameron made his decision, and followed Marie and Jean-Francois to a parked car next to the Louvre’s west entrance.
Five minutes later, with Jean-Francois at the wheel, a worn-out Renault sped down the rue de Rivoli toward the Place de la Bastille, where Jean-Francois turned south and continued on Avenue Daumesnil.
Cameron sat in the back with Marie. He simply stared out the window wondering if he’d made the right choice by coming along. He knew that in doing so he had disobeyed a direct order from Potter.
The car came to a full stop in the middle of a long block on the right-hand side of a deserted street. Large warehouses on their side of the street bordered the Seine. Between the warehouse Cameron could see the river’s peaceful waters. The warehouses across the street blocked the view of the city’s skyline. Jean-Francois turned his head.
“Here we are. Please wait for my signal.”
“Where are we?” asked Cameron.
“Please, monsieur.”
Jean-Francois got out and walked across the cobblestone street to a warehouse on the left. The warehouse had a huge metal sliding door. It was closed but Cameron spotted a smaller door next to it. Jean-Francois checked both sides of the street, pushed the smaller door open, and disappeared.
Cameron turned to Marie. “I don’t like being inside this parked car. We’re too exposed.”
“Want to get out and wait next to the warehouses?”
“That sounds like a great—”
“There. He’s giving us the signal. We can go in now.”
Cameron glanced back toward the warehouse. Jean-Francois was waving his right hand at them.
Cameron quickly got out and helped Marie. “Let’s go.” He warily scanned both sides of the block. All clear. They crossed the street and followed Jean-Francois inside.
The stench of urine and mildew struck him like a moist breeze. Cameron saw no one as Jean-Francois led him and Marie across the warehouse. He spotted a door at the other end. Jean-Francois took out a key, unlocked the door, and pulling it open, motioned Cameron and Marie to go through. He followed, locking the door behind them.
Cameron stopped. The room was pitch black.
“Where are we?”
Before Jean-Francois could answer, bright lights came on, almost blinding Cameron. He found himself under the scrutiny of three well-dressed older men sitting behind a long wooden table.
“Who are you?” he asked, perplexed.
“Our names are not important, Monsieur Stone,” replied the one in the center. “All you need to know is that we were Monsieur Guilloux’s colleagues.”
Cameron didn’t like this game. As he scanned the room for possible avenues of escape, he chastised himself for allowing himself to be trapped. The room had no windows and no visible doors except for the one they had come in through. It looked about sixty feet deep and at least two hundred feet long. The ceiling was as high as the rest of the warehouse. Several fluorescent lights hung from it.
Cameron stood in the middle, Marie to his right. “All right. What is this all about?”
“I’m afraid it concerns the future of your space agency,” said a distinguished-looking gentleman seated at the table.
Cameron thought a moment. “You mean NASA?”
“Oui, monsieur. We were all dismissed from our positions at Athena Aerospace, where we worked with Monsieur Guilloux. We were lucky. None of us pressed the issue to the point he did. For that he was murdered. Still, we know what he discovered and cannot allow him to have died without purpose.
“The directors of Athena are planning to sabotage NASA, just as they sabotaged the Russians last month.”
Cameron stared at the hardened face of the man across the table. “Sabotage? Murder? Do you realize what you’re saying? The implications? The reaction from my government?”
“Oui.”
“All right. Go back to the beginning. Tell me everything you know. I want to know everything.” Cameron stared into the man’s sunken eyes. He saw fear.