It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't safe,and every time he saw her he feared their relationship would be exposed and,worse, stopped.

But they would still take the risk andmeet every time he was in Moscow.

And it would be their secret.

Paris. February 3rd The clouds hung grayand sullen over Paris that afternoon in early February, threatening rain allday, but in the luxury penthouse suite on the fifth floor of the Ritz Hotel,Henri Lebel's mind was on anything but the weather.

The sight of the two voluptuous youngmodels who stood before him almost naked as he sat in the couch by the windowsent a rippiin-, erotic shiver down his spine. They were tempting, too temptingalmost. The Curtains were drawn and the lights were on, three powerful bulbsflooded the suite, and as the fashion photographer effected some last-minuteadjustments, Lebel lit a cigar and smiled at the youngest of the two girls.

"Very, very nice, Marie. Turn aroundnow if you please."

The girl was twenty, with short dark hairand a dusky skin any full-blooded Frenchman Would gladly kill for. She woreonly a pair of' stiletto high heels and black silk stockings and a suspenderbelt. The girl turned, displaying a rear view of her, long, elegant legs andperfectly rounded buttocks. She cocked her head as she giggled at a smilingLebel.

"What about the coat, Henri?"

Lebel ptirsed his lips and grinned."In a moment, my sweet. Let me drink this moment in like good wine."

Marie laughed as she stood there with herhands on her- hips, not a shred of embarrassment in evidence as Lebel's eyeswandered over her body.

Lebel thought The girl was stunning, noquestion about it, and really ideal.

Marie. And now Claire. Your turn. Niceand slowly."

The second girl was fair-haired andnineteen. She gave Lebel a cheeky smile and turned her buttocks to him. She hadsplendid breasts, and as she turned Lebel was given the full benefit of theirfirm pert mounds. Her ass wasn't as tantalizing as Marie's, or her legs aslong, but she was a beautiful creature nonetheless, and her breasts more thanmade Up for the deficit.

Lebel felt a warm electricity in hisloins and had to suppress a sigh of pleasure.

He stood and stubbed out his cigar in thecrystal ashtray on the coffee table. He turned to the photographer, anmiddle-aged man in a sweater and slacks, with a cravat tied around his neck,and slapped him on the shoulder. "You did well, Patric. The girls havejust the look I want for the New York catalog.

"As always, a pleasure to work withyou, Henri."

Despite his busy schedule, Lebel alwaysfound time to supervise personally the catalog photo-shoot for the comingwinter collection, and the sumptuously decorated suite in the Ritz provided anideal backdrop.

The photographer clapped his hands."The sables first, girls. Let's start with the best."

The photographer had shot off a quickdozen frames with the girls in various poses, Lebel offering suggestions as hefelt necessary, when there was a knock on the door. A tall sharpfeatured manwith the face of an undertaker and dressed in a black suit entered the room. Hebarely glanced at the two beautiful models. Charles Torrance was English and asLebel's butler and chauffeur was discreet and had just the right air of itas.His honeyed voice spoke softly across the room in perfect French.

"A visitor, sir."

"Tell whoever it is to goaway," Lebel snorted. "Can't You see I'm busy, Charles?"

"It's Mr. Ridgeway, sir. He says hehas an appointment."

Lebel sighed. He had almost forgotten hissecretary had phoned him about the appointment three days before. "Verywell, tell Mr. Ridgeway I'll see him in the study." Lebel glanced back atthe girls and photographer and smiled. "Champagne for everyone whenthey're finished, Charles. And a little caviar would be nice. The Crimean redthe Soviet Ambassador sent."

The penthouse suite Henri Lebel lived inon the fifth floor of the Ritz had one of the most pleasant views in Paris,overlooking the magnificent cobbled Place Vendeme.

The suite had- been occupied during thewar by a senior Gestapo officer who had the luxury quarters expanded to a fiveroom apartment to impress his Parisian mistress. It was elegantly fitted outwith period furniture and silk tapestries, and had the distinct advantage ofhaving three separate entrances and exits. Lebel's registered offices andwarehouses were in the suburb of Clichy, but he seldom if ever used them toconduct business. The suite in-the Ritz was far more private.

As he stepped into the study thatafternoon he saw Massey standing by the window, staring out at the pigeonsswirling above the sodden Place Vendeme. The record player in the corner wason, Maria Callas in La Boh@me playing softly in the background.

Lebel smiled as he crossed to the window,offering his hand. "Jake, good to see you." He pronounced the namelike the French Jacques, and shook Massey's hand before glancing back at thesource of the music. "I see you took the liberty. She's quite superb,Callas. Remind me if ever you want tickets when she's playing in Paris. I havea friend with the Opera."

"Hello, Henri. I hope I didn'tdisrupt your afternoon'?

Charles said you had company."

Lebel took a cigar from a humidor on thelacquered table, ] and lit it. He blew out @ a cloud of smoke. "So whatbrings @ you to Paris, Jake?"

Massey looked at the chubby Frenchman.His pencil-thin mustache was neatly clipped, and Close up his face was coveredin fine wrinkles, masked from a distance by a deep Riviera tan.

"Just a brief visit to have a chat,Henri."

Lebel nodded toward the record player."is that why you put the record on, just to be certain we can't beoverheard?"

"the Frenchman rinned. "Lebel,you wouldn't trust God himself."

"That's how I've lived solong."

Lebel's eyes took in the room. The suiteis completely safe, believe me. No electronic devices. I checked the roomsmyself." The record playing softly in the background was unnecessary, butLebel understood.

"so to what do I owe the pleasure ofthis visit'? It's years since we last met. You never called or wrote like youpromised You would. If you were a woman I'd have given up on you long ago.

Massey smiled. "So tell me, how isbusiness?"

"I can't complain. In fact, it'svery good. Since the war ended your rich Americans have no shortage of cash.They like the best money has to offer. And they particularly like my sables. Ilost five million francs from America alone last year. A quarter of' ii)ybusiness."

Massey's eyebrows rose. "That'sgood, Henri."

"Wait until next year when they seemy new catalog. It's going to be even better."

Lebel smiled confidently and leanedforward and touched Massey's knee. "But enough of business. Why are you inParis'?

"You still see any of the boys fromthe resistance?"

"Once a week we meet and crack opena couple of bottles and remember the dead. You should come next time. Theystill remember you fondly. Killing Geri-naiis was the highlight of their lives.Now they raise chickens or kids and live boring lives. How could life ever bethe same?"

Massey looked around the elegant room."You don't seem to be doing too badly. This place must be costing youplenty."

Lebel sighed, "True. But it's alldown to luck and a twist of fate, mon Monime You know that."

"Being in the resistance has beengood to you, Henri."

Lebel shrugged. "It had its price,but of course, I don't deny it. They helped with my Moscow business contactsafter the war."

"That's partly why I'm here. I needa favor, Henri."