“You hit them with your Glock.”
“Yeah, there’s that. Guess it’s not so ‘simple.’”
After passing the Grand Bassin Rond — a large fountain and surrounding pond — sirens started up again and police cars whizzed by.
“Bad sign?” Vail asked.
“Definitely. I guess they found the guards — or the video of me doing my ‘Glock karate chop.’ Just keep walking. No panic, no undue attention.”
They passed a couple of outdoor cafés featuring tables with red umbrellas poking up below intricately pruned medium-size trees. One eatery displayed a chalkboard wood-framed sign offering vin chaud a la cannelle—for the English tourists, “hot red wine with cinnamon”—that made Vail’s mouth water.
They walked on and she glanced to her right, in the vicinity of a Métro station. But police were milling about, making that route of exit unappealing if not downright dangerous.
DeSantos took Vail’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I don’t want you to be alarmed, but there are several French policemen behind us and two approaching from the south. Keep walking straight.”
“You did say, ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ right?”
“We can’t outrun them because there are too many. And more in cars along the periphery.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty much.”
“You’re not joking, are you?”
“Not now, no. Not this time.”
Jesus.
“You think they ID’d us?”
“Let’s not stick around to find out. Have you ever ridden a Segway?”
“Those things we saw the tourists riding this morning? The two-wheeled things with the pole you put between your legs?”
“Another time, I’d have some sexual comeback. But yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. There are a bunch of ’em ahead of us. Tour group standing by the Luxor Obelisk.”
Vail peered into the misty rain. “I see them.”
“They’re taking a break. The Segways are about twenty yards behind them. We’re gonna borrow two.”
“You want to try to outrun the police?”
DeSantos snorted. “They only go about thirteen miles per hour, Karen. We might be able to outrun most of the cops who are in boots and weighed down with utility belts. And they’ll take us farther than someone on foot. But that’s not the point. They give us mobility — we’d be able to go places cars can’t. We need angles and distance.”
They approached a dozen Segways parked in a line at a curb. A couple of the tourists were late leaving their vehicles, but the others were still at the obelisk, snapping photos.
“We just gonna walk up to them and steal them?”
“Pretty much.”
“What about keys?”
“No keys. They’ve got controllers that have chips inside that keep track of that Segway’s vital stats. There are security settings to prevent you from doing what we’re about to do, but most tour companies don’t bother with them unless the vehicles are going to be out of sight.”
“So we’re hoping to get far enough away that we’ll be out of the controller’s range before they realize two are missing.”
“Put your helmet on and move it away from the curb. And be careful of how you lean because it responds to your body movements.”
“How I lean?
“It uses gyroscopes to sense your body weight. Lean forward, it goes forward. Lean backward, it goes backward. Steer with the handlebars. Move them to the right side, you turn right. It takes some getting used to, but once you get the hang of it, it’s very natural.”
“Do I have time to practice?”
DeSantos glanced at her as they neared the vehicles.
“Just saying. This might not be pretty.”
“It won’t be. But I have confidence in you.”
“Since when?”
“Since right now.”
They walked the line of Segways, going for the two farthest from the tour group.
“And what if they see us and yell?”
“We’ll worry about that if and when it happens. Once we get the helmets on, hopefully we’ll look like two people from their group. These tours are put together on a first-come first-served basis, so other than your companion or friend, you don’t know any of the other people. It’s a group of strangers.”
As they approached, Vail saw the black hard shell helmets hanging from the handles. She took one and quickly seated it on her head. It was a too big, but she knew that would be the least of her problems.
She climbed aboard and placed a foot on either side of the raised center panel, on the ridged rubber pads. On the outside of each of her ankles was a large air-inflated tire, partially covered by a mud guard.
Vail watched as DeSantos guided the vehicle with the movement of his body. Vail did the same — but overcorrected and nearly fell when she straightened her knees and the Segway jerked backward. She recovered and leaned forward, moving alongside DeSantos, listening for yelling — expecting someone to notice that they were stealing two very expensive vehicles.
She wasn’t disappointed, because they had gotten a half block when she heard a female voice call out, “Hé, arrêter!” Vail interpreted it as, “Hey, stop!”
“Keep going, “DeSantos said over his shoulder, looking back at Vail, who was moving in a herky-jerky, start-stop fashion, generally forward — but too slowly. “Just lean toward the handlebars. She won’t be able to catch us.”
And hopefully she won’t turn the damn things off with the remote.
Vail canted forward and her speed increased: a smooth acceleration. The rain beat against her face and prickled her eyes, but — she had to admit — the ride was exhilarating, much like she felt when she drove a car for the first time.
She wanted to sneak a look behind her, to make sure they were not being followed, but she did not dare shift her weight.
They moved down the asphalt street, which was worn to the original cobblestone, making for a bumpy ride. She came up alongside DeSantos, who had slowed to let her catch up. “We have to call the police, tell them about Raboud, that he’s really Ramazanov. And where to find him.”
“We’re not gonna do that.”
“What are you talking about? Why the hell not?”
“I left a pair of scissors on the desk next to him so he could cut the cuffs. I assume he’d be smart enough to look for a way out as soon as we left. It’ll take him a while with scissors, but—”
“Why’d you do that?”
“He’s worth more to us as a free man than one put through the French legal system.”
She turned to him, her face hot against the wet, cold rain — and nearly lost her balance. “Hector, you’re not making any sense.”
“I rigged his cell phone.”
“Rigged, how?”
“Something Uzi taught me. He called it a cross between Bluebugging and some other techno-hack stuff I didn’t understand. He built some kind of app that looks to exploit weaknesses in Bluetooth and cellular signal technology. I took care of it while you were looking over that ancient manuscript. Bottom line is that if what I did worked, we’ll be able to read the data on Ramazanov’s phone — and eavesdrop on his calls. Supposedly we can even send texts from his phone to people in his contact list.”
“Without him knowing?”
“Uzi’s the one to ask, but I think so. He made it as dumb-shit proof as possible because when it comes to tech, I’m—”
“A dumb-shit?”
“Challenged.” DeSantos looked around and appeared indecisive as he led her down the Rue Le Champs Elysées, past a large government-looking building, the tire tread channeling away the rain water that had settled on the pavement and making a swishing sound as the vehicle moved along the roadway. A white and charcoal chiaroscuro choked the expansive sky before them. A hazy misty pall hung over the city and partially obscured the Eiffel Tower, which rose above all buildings in the vicinity.