DeSantos scooped up another bit of salmon and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “I could call the police and tell them I planted a bomb in the Musée d’Orsay. After what’s happened in DC, New York, and London, they’ll overreact and divert everything they’ve got to the museum.”
Vail looked at him a long moment. “You’re right. Not about this, about what you said before about why you have me on the team.”
“They wouldn’t overreact and divert everything they’ve got?”
“No. Because of what’s happened, they’ve got more police on the streets. They’d mobilize their bomb squad and a counterterrorism unit to handle the threat. Won’t do us any good.”
DeSantos absorbed that a moment. “Fine. But there’s a problem with your plan. A ship’s galley only has electric cooking equipment, for obvious safety reasons.”
So obvious I didn’t think of it. “So what the hell are we gonna do?”
“I didn’t say they never use open flames. They use a torch to caramelize sugar, make crème brûlée, or a flambé dish like crêpe suzette or cherries jubilee.”
“Crêpe suzette is on the menu.”
DeSantos grinned. “Yes it is, my dear.”
“Stop saying that.”
“My guess is they’re going to do it in the living room for the spectacle — it’s very dramatic in a dimly lit interior. So once the flame crests, I’ll tip the cooking pan over. The liquid will burn anything it touches.”
“I’m worried about collateral damage.”
“I’ll set it off in a way that will minimize injury, okay?”
Vail studied his face in the candlelight. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“Of course.”
Asshole. Vail’s gaze roamed the interior. Despite all the predicaments she had found herself in since her unwanted affiliation with OPSIG, she never thought she would be resorting to arson to accomplish a mission. She hated to have to do this, but she could not think of another way out.
Sometimes the greater picture had to be considered, DeSantos told her. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”
“Is that some sort of OPSIG mantra?”
“Nope. Star Trek.”
Vail shook her head. “I would’ve felt better if it was some moral principle the black ops world had developed in situations like this.”
She had already taken an inventory of the interior and determined that there were no security cameras on board. DeSantos paid with cash so there was no traceable means back to them other than public identification. And most people were focused on the windows and the sights of downtown Paris, their meals and wine — certainly not their fellow passengers.
“Let me ask you again,” he said. “Given your intimate knowledge of police procedure, how certain are you that Paris PD will be searching this boat when we get back to port?”
“Count on it. They’d have to be pretty incompetent to miss that detail. Someone’s going to think of it. This is Detective 101 stuff.”
He checked his watch then motioned to her plate. “Then I suggest you finish up. Because the crêpe suzette is next — and that means we’re going to be evacuating this boat in the next few minutes.” He pulled out his phone and consulted Google Maps, then looked out the window. “Pont de l’Alma is coming up. Now would be a good time.” He rose from the chair and looked toward the setup in the middle of the dining room where the staff was prepping the dessert. “Food was delicious,” he said, tossing his napkin aside. I think I’ll go give my compliments to the chef. She’s very hot, you know. Or — she will be in a couple of minutes.”
“Be careful.”
DeSantos winked at her. “Thanks for the concern. But I’ll be fine.”
“I was talking about the others in the dining room. No collateral damage, remember?”
After DeSantos rose from his seat, Vail pulled out her cell and saw that she had missed Uzi’s text message. She turned toward DeSantos, who had disappeared somewhere into the dimly lit interior.
She texted Uzi back, apologizing for the late response and letting him know they had to “manage a situation with LE” and that her unnamed partner would be back in a few minutes. He replied a moment later.
tim came thru
prints match doka michel
leader of islamic movement sharia law for france now
could be lead on scroll b/c michel is son of man who stole it in 1957
need gps location on that phone i hacked asap
The Eiffel Tower swung into view and all heads turned in unison, a number of people pointing at the iconic structure, brilliant amber-gold lighting enhancing its profile against the dark nightscape.
There was a loud clang as something hit the wood floor, followed by a whoosh and a draft of warm air. An alarm began ringing. The serving staff froze for a second, then rushed inward from wherever they were stationed — and seconds later Vail saw DeSantos, making his way along the periphery toward their table. When he arrived, he said, “Now we see what their emergency protocol is.”
Vail screamed, then yelled, “Fire!” DeSantos did the same, followed by a couple off to their right. People scattered away from the flames, regardless of their proximity.
An announcement blared over the ship wide intercom — first in French, then in English:
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. Please move toward the stern, the back of the boat, where you boarded. We have a minor fire in the dining room and we’re working to put it out as quickly as possible. I will keep you posted.”
“Minor?” Vail asked.
“Sounds better than, ‘We’re fucked. But don’t jump overboard just yet,’ doesn’t it?”
DeSantos and Vail joined the crowd, which was moving steadily but haphazardly toward the exit — many pushing, screams and gasps coming from a variety of distraught people.
DeSantos glanced back, concern evident on his face, assessing how efficient the staff’s firefighting methods were. “In five seconds we better start moving toward Port de Suffren. It should be right there, ahead on the left.”
Vail looked, but it was hard to see because the bright light from the building fire had illuminated the interior and reversed the effect of the windows: it was now easier to see in than see out.
Add in the heat and thickening smoke and everyone was pushing toward the exit, attempting to get outside into the fresh air.
As she turned back toward the exit, the boat shifted direction.
“Mesdames et Messieurs … Ladies and Gentlemen …”
“Here we go,” DeSantos said in her left ear. “Soon as we get off, we need to put as much distance between us and the group as fast as possible. Without making it obvious.”
The staff helped corral everyone in an orderly fashion toward the exit. They continued to work the fire with extinguishers, and the ceiling sprinklers clicked on and began dispensing water, dousing the passengers — which made them push forward faster toward the stern.
As they debarked, Vail glanced over her shoulder and saw thick smoke billowing from the boat’s upper cabin into the dark gray sky. “Jesus, Hector …”
“More smoke, less fire. Looks worse than it is. And no major casualties. Thought you’d be happy.”
“I am. And since we’re off the ship and not in handcuffs, I’d say you did well. By the way, did you see Uzi’s text, about the location he needs?”
“I gave him what I had. Safe house is the same place as the address Hoshi found for Doka Michel.”
They stopped on the quay and looked in all directions, casually searching for a police presence. Seeing nothing in the immediate vicinity, they shuffled with the group toward the sidewalk, just outside an RER station. Off to their left and a hundred yards or so away, the Eiffel Tower rose into the sky.