Unintended Consequences - By Stuart Woods

23





Stone woke early and stretched. His soreness was gone, and he had Helga to thank for that. She was not in bed, and he could hear her in the bathroom, singing in Swedish. The doorbell rang; he found a robe and let in the room service waiter.

Helga came out of the bathroom in a robe, still singing. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Terrific,” he said, “thanks to you.”

“Anytime. I don’t get chances often to maintain my skills.”

“I’m happy to be your patient anytime,” Stone said, then they turned their attention to breakfast.

“What does the day hold for you?” Helga asked.

“I’m going to the opening of the Paris Auto Show with Marcel.”

“That should be very interesting. He’s introducing the Blaise to the world, you know.”

“Would you like to come with us?”

“Thank you, but I’ve already seen the Blaise—with you—and I’m not very interested in cars. I rarely drive mine. Will we have dinner this evening?”

“I’d love that, if you can find a simpler restaurant. The way we’re going, I’ll get fat.”

“There are more than eight thousand restaurants in Paris, and very few of them are bad. I’m sure I can come up with something.”

“Then you’re on.”

• • •

Stone got downstairs a little before ten to find Rick waiting for him out front, leaning against Marcel’s Maybach. “Good morning, Rick.”

“Good morning, Stone.” He opened the door and let Stone in, then went around the car and joined him in the rear seat. “This cabin is more like an airplane than a car, isn’t it?” he asked, playing with his seat adjustment.

“A good comparison,” Stone said as the car moved away. “I’m surprised to see you this morning after hearing your theory yesterday. Don’t you feel at peril?”

Rick smiled. “Always. It’s part of the training.”

“It must wear on the nerves to always feel at peril.”

“One gets used to it.”

“I like the new suit,” Stone said. He was wearing a tan gabardine from Charvet.

“Thank you. Lance was very helpful. They didn’t finish the whole order overnight, but I’m getting them at the rate of a suit a day.”

“Have you heard from Lance?”

“I spoke to him last night.”

“How did his escape from our company go?”

“The prefect of police complained to the ambassador about that. The morning papers are full of the mysterious helicopter that plucked an American from the midst of a traffic accident.”

“Is that what they’re calling it?”

“Yes.”

“How did the helicopter get there so fast?”

“They were practicing instrument approaches at Le Bourget when the call came, so they were already in the air.”

“I didn’t know Le Bourget was still in use. That’s where Lindbergh landed after his solo transatlantic, isn’t it?”

“Correct. It’s now a general aviation airport. All the business jets use it. Our Gulfstream 450 was waiting for him there, so he was out of the country before the ambassador could yell at him for his little faux pas.”

“How well do you know Lance, Rick?”

“I worked for him when he was station chief of Europe.”

“How did you get along?”

“He sent me to Africa, then the Middle East.”

“As badly as that, huh?”

“Best thing that could have happened to me. You get a lot of street cred in the Agency for working the tough stations, and you get to serve in places like Paris later on.”

“I’ll bet you’ll be back at Langley before long, serving the new director.”

“He brought that up, but I told him that travel is broadening, and that I want to further improve my wardrobe before I go home.”

Stone laughed. They drove on to some suburb Stone had never seen and approached a gate at the huge building where the auto show was being held. Swarms of uniformed police, armed with submachine guns, roamed the rear of the building, and flashing lights were everywhere.

“This can’t be ordinary security for an auto show,” Rick said. “Something has happened.”

To their surprise, the Maybach was waved through without so much as slowing, and after they got out of the car, they were escorted by policemen into the building, where they were met by two large, fit-looking men in black suits with some sort of ID button in their lapels and escorted across the crowded floor to the duBois exhibit, where a phalanx of shiny new Blaises were on display. Marcel duBois saw them coming and waved them to the rear of the exhibit, where there was a small office.

“Before we go out there,” he said, “let me tell you what has happened.”

Stone and Rick exchanged a glance.

“At four o’clock this morning I was awakened to answer a phone call from your Lance Cabot. He told me that information had reached him from intelligence sources that an attempt would be made to attack the auto show shortly after it opened this morning.”

“What sort of sources?” Rick asked.

“Cell phone traffic picked up by your National Security Agency.”

“Ah, yes.”

“I called the prefect of police immediately and put my chief of security and his people at his disposal. When my ten Blaises arrived here on trucks at six o’clock this morning, they were searched and two bombs were found and disabled.”

“That’s a relief to hear,” Stone said.

“Every other car in the show was searched, but mine were the only ones affected.”

“So this was an attack against your company, not the whole show?” Rick asked.

“I or my company—it’s pretty much the same thing. I can tell you that never has a new association so immediately been of such great benefit to me, and I am very grateful to Lance and your Agency.”

“I’ll pass that on to him,” Rick said.

“I have already phoned him and expressed my thanks.”

“He is being sworn in today as director of Central Intelligence,” Rick said.

“Then he has scored a coup on his first day,” Stone said.

“I must tell you that it was not until I saw the morning papers that I heard of your terrible accident after you left my home yesterday, if an accident was what it was. I was extremely embarrassed to learn that a truck belonging to my construction company was involved. The driver was found unconscious at one of our building sites, and I was told that the man who stole the truck and crashed it into you was fired yesterday morning for being drunk on the job. He is being sought by the Prefecture of Police. Please accept my apologies for this terrible tragedy. I spoke to Lance again, and I am making a contribution to a fund being set up for your driver’s family.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Rick said.

“All these events have made me proud to be associated with your Agency,” Marcel said. “Now, I must go to the platform and make a speech and give some television interviews, then we will have lunch. I promise to get you both home unmolested afterwards.”

They followed Marcel back to the exhibit and listened as, bursting with pride, he introduced the Blaise to the world.