"Don't do that, Ben. I'm telling you, this whole thing is bigger than we think. They put me here for a reason. . . . They put all of us here. And I'll promise you, right here and right now, that if it comes down to it, that if I have to kill him, I will. I'll do it."

"I'm unconvinced," said Ames. "Me, on the other hand, I'd whack him in a heartbeat. I never liked the bastard. He was a crappy teacher, and he's got the weirdest sense of humor."

"A team of rookies, and a woman personally involved with the target," Hansen began through a groan. "Like sending hamsters after a rattlesnake."

"I am a special- forces operator," said Noboru, his tone steely. "I am nothing else."

"We're happy for you, Bruce," said Ames. "Now, shut the hell up and let us figure out what to do with the slut back here."

This time it was Gillespie who was ready to strangle Ames, but he slipped back into his seat and said, "I'm just kidding! I'm kidding!"

Gillespie swore at him and looked to Hansen for help.

"Who's got the terrible sense of humor?" Valentina asked Ames. "And you know something? I've been dealing with guys like you all my life. You wind up miserable and alone."

"Not really. I wind up on a private jet, with a hot blonde, drinking champagne." He winked.

Hansen hardened his voice. "Ames, I've had enough of you, too."

"I'm just here for your entertainment pleasure--since you're not here for mine."

Hansen snorted. "Show's over. Back to work. Now, we're going to go see this guy Boutin. Maybe Fisher's paid him a visit."

"Ben, if Fisher is as good as everyone says he is, he may be long gone," said Noboru. "Maybe all we can do is follow his trail. Maybe he's not even in France anymore."

"Good point. Why would he stick around?"

Valentina thought about that. "Maybe there's something he needs to do. Someone he's waiting for?"

"Like us," said Hansen. "Why do I get the feeling that we're being baited?"

"Still no word from Grim?" asked Valentina.

Hansen shook his head.

"Look, guys, stop worrying," said Ames. "Like I said before, I've got some ideas for overwatch on Boutin's place. Let's talk about those, catch a few z's, then wake up and have breakfast in Paris."

Valentina took a deep breath and folded her arms over her chest. "What makes you so confident?"

"I'm more excited than anything else," answered Ames. "We take down Fisher and we've really done something. We'll be the guys who brought in the traitor. Then his legend becomes ours. . . ."

15

GRAND HOTEL TEMPLIERS REIMS, FRANCE

THEflight to Paris took about six hours, and Reims was exactly six hours ahead of Baltimore, so while the team seemingly arrived at Paris-Charles de Gaulle International Airport at midnight their time, it was 6:21 A.M. by the local clock. Between yawns and the rubbing of red eyes, they rented a blue Opel and a green Renault and drove to the east side of Reims, to the Grand Hotel Templiers, where the agency had already booked two rooms. The five-story hotel was on rue des Templiers, a narrow street lined on both sides by subcompact cars. The place was about a ten-minute drive from Boutin's apartment, affording them enough distance for security yet reasonable proximity to the target.

Much to Hansen's chagrin, Ames decided he was bunking with Valentina, who drove her heel into the short operative's foot, and that was the end of that. Ladies in one room, men in the other, thank you. When would that guy ever let up?>

Hansen stared through the window at a courtyard whose landscape swept outward like a chessboard, its walkways cutting at right angles through perfect squares of sod and trees. The image was fitting, as the game was, indeed, afoot.

He wrung his hands and checked his watch. He and Ames decided that after breakfast they would reconnoiter Boutin's place to be sure there wasn't anything surprising they hadn't seen on the maps. They would do a hasty drive-by, as Hansen felt certain that Fisher, if he was still in Reims, would be keeping a close eye on the forger. Hansen decided, though, that they wouldn't make their move on Boutin until 11:00 P.M. at the earliest, when they could be more certain that the streets would be deserted and the forger himself had settled down for the evening.

Behind Hansen, Gillespie was munching on French toast, which she said tasted better in the States, and working her laptop's touch pad, scanning data from Moreau-- Mr. Moreau. They'd searched the registrations of every hotel in France for a Francois Dayreis, along with every other alias Fisher had ever used during his tenure at Third Echelon, and they'd come up empty. They'd also searched for the names of the victims of the warehouse assault, but it seemed Fisher hadn't used those IDs yet. If Boutin didn't know anything about Fisher's whereabouts, Hansen wasn't sure what their next move would be.

There were, however, two other leads to follow: Doucet and the warehouse.

Noboru and Valentina were already out to meet the team's runner in Reims, from whom they would pick up the gear and be outfitted for their visit to see Doucet, who'd been admitted to the Centre Hospitalier Universitaire at 45 rue Cognacq-Jay, about four kilometers southwest of the team's hotel.

Ames entered the room, car keys in hand. "You ready, chief?"

Hansen turned from the window. "Hold down the fort, Kim, all right?"

She nodded.

"And, you know, if you want, take a nap. Just leave the channel on in case I need to get you through the subdermal, all right?"

"You got it."

Hansen walked over to Ames and ripped the car keys out of the man's hand. "I drive."

NOBORUtook the Opel to the parking garage of the Hotel Azur, located just five minutes west. He and Valentina drove to the far end of the garage as instructed. Noboru let the car idle. He glanced over at Valentina, who draped an arm across her eyes and rested her head on the seat. He felt compelled to say something but simply sat there.

"How come you're so serious, Nathan?" she blurted out.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile."

"I smiled once. Back in 2007."

She opened her eyes and smiled. "I like you. You're one of the first guys I've met who doesn't want to have sex with me."

"What makes you assume that?"

"Because you don't look at me that way."

"It's impolite."

"Yes, it is. Your parents raised you right."

He took a deep breath. "I would still like to have sex with you."

And then he shocked her . . . by smiling. "Does that make you feel better?"

She punched him in the arm. Hard. "The smile part does. So . . . I'm going to try to take just a little nap, just rest my eyes, okay?"

"Okay."

Within a minute she was out. They were all exhausted, and Noboru repeatedly checked the rearview mirror while blinking his vision back to clarity and stifling a yawn.

He didn't want to close his eyes, because if he did, he knew he'd begin to hear the car horns and smell the herbs and roasting meat from the restaurants.

The back window of his second-floor apartment in Kao-hsiung was open, and below lay piles of trash surrounding a pair of Dumpsters. Noboru was lying in bed, reading a newspaper, when they kicked in his door.