Molly, who stood beside him, curtseyed slightly. "Why, thank you."
"Now we just have one problem."
"What might that be?"
Bill made a cutoff motion across his neck to Marie. She shut the engine down and Bill turned to Molly. "She's running on fumes."
"Don't all combustion engines operate on fumes?"
"Funny. But we really are about out of gas. We won't get far out of town on what's left."
Paul stepped up to them. "And we must have the plastic card to buy fuel, correct?"
"You got it, Pal. By the way, where have you been?"
Paul pointed to the sky. "Watching that helicopter. It behaves unusually."
Molly followed Paul's finger. "How so?"
"It does not land at the airport. It comes from the west, but moves to the center of the city."
Bill watched the insect-like aircraft. "Probably a police chopper. Came from the west, huh?"
"Yes. From far away to the west."
"I hate to be paranoid, but I wonder if old DoubleBlank called out the air force again?"
Paul smiled. "If he did, an air search will not detect us now."
Molly grinned. "Besides, we don't even know that it has anything to do with our nemesis."
"So I'm getting jumpy in my old age."
"If you're in your old age, where does that leave me?"
"Do you really wanna ask?"
"I believe not. Let's change the subject, shall we?"
"I have a suggestion,'' Marie called from inside the car.
"Well, don't just sit there."
"One of us could creep into town and see if indeed this helicopter is in Leblanc's service."
"Good idea. But who?"
"They still know my face least," Paul said. "With different clothes and a different hair I can move closely enough to learn of the matter."
"I hate to admit it, but he's right again."
"But it necessitates driving back to town in order to arrive in time to see anything," Molly pointed out.
"I can drive. I drive good."
"Yeah, but you're underage. We don't need you to get picked up for something like that."
"I could drive him," Molly said. "My current appearance is quite unlike the last time Leblanc got a good look at me."
"Well, I don't know. Maybe we don't need a move like this at all. Let's forget the idea."
Paul started to protest, but Bill cut him off. "It's not necessary. I'm getting 'way too jumpy, and seeing big ugly cops behind every tree. Don't sweat it. Forget it." He glanced at Molly. "What are you grinning at?"
"Methinks the man doth protest too much."
"Youthinks incorrectishly. That egg-beater doesn't have anything to do with us. I'm sure the police in a city this size have other things to do besides chase us. Now let's try to figure out how to get some gas."
"Why are you so defensive all of a sudden?"
"I'm not defensive! I'm just trying to serve our best interests. And chasing a helicopter just doesn't seem like a top priority right now."
"It does to me."
"Who's running this show?"
"Who appointed you to run it?"
"You did."
"I most certainly did not!"
"Yes you--"
Marie bounded out of the car and stepped between them. "Please! Please! You do no good to shout at each other! Now please stop it!"
Bill looked at the ground, shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled a little. "Gosh. our first big fight."
Molly blushed. Through a half-grin she said, "That wasn't a fight. It was a difference of opinion. It was merely a very noisy difference of opinion. Am I correct?"
Bill winked. "I disagree."
Molly slapped his shoulder and they fell into each other's arms, laughing. Marie smiled her appreciation.
Paul spoke up. "Bill, I think Molly and I should go see. I understand. You fear for her safety, but--"
Molly exclaimed, "Is that why you suddenly decided against the idea?"
"Well, uh--"
Paul continued, "No matter. Bill, we must know if he is here. This will affect our freedom of movement about the city, will it not?"
"Yeah, I guess so. All right, go ahead. But be careful. And see if you can find a place to, uh, swap for some gas along the way, okay?"
Molly's eyes sparkled as she kissed her husband goodbye. "Don't worry. We shall return."
Bill held her tightly for a moment. "You'd better."
At the same time, Marie and Paul embraced. Then the two scouts mounted their metal steed and Molly urged it onto the road toward town. Marie stepped to Bill's side and said as the car rolled away, "I have a bad feeling about this."
"Me, too. But they think they can pull it off. And you saw where arguing got us."
"Yes, I saw. Still, I do not like it."
"Well, about all we can do now is pray for them."
"I - I do not know how."
"Well, it's high time you learned. Come on."
"The sun is setting, Bill."
"I know."
"They have not returned."
"I know that, too."
"What shall we do?"
"That I don't know."
"What do you think has happened?"
"That I also don't know." Bill sighed at the sunset. "I hope they ran out of gas."
"Why do you hope this?"
Bill shrugged. "That's about the least terrible thing that could happen." He looked at Marie. "Do you know the straightest way to the police station?"
"I think so."
Bill stepped toward the road. "Well, we'd better hitch a ride that way and see if we can spot them. Let's go flag down a car."
Marie's expression rivalled Paul's.
"Come on. I'll show you." Bill strode to the edge of the road and waited. Marie stood at his side, searching in vain for a flag.
Bill waved his arms at three passing cars. The fourth pulled over. Bill told Marie, "When we get to the car, tell him we got stranded and need a ride to town. And see if he speaks English."
"I will tell him." They crossed the road and Marie begged a ride from the skinny, hook-nosed man behind the wheel. As the pair climbed into the back seat of his 4-door Mercedes Marie whispered, "I told him we need to go toward the police station. He will take us there."
"Good girl. Good thinking. Does he speak English?"
"A little."
"Good." Bill shut his door and the car sped off toward Lyons.
The radio blared some antique American rock music. Marie chatted casually with-the driver, whose name she learned was Simon Rochelle. Bill watched the road shoulders for any sign of their car or their companions. He quietly tapped his foot to the music, and felt a twinge of loss when it stopped and a voice started rattling in French. Suddenly, Bill sat straight up. The voice had stopped, and a new one took over in English. He knew the voice all too well. "American, if you can hear me, I am having this message broadcast every fifteen minutes. I have your woman and the boy. I care nothing for them. You I want. I will hold them for 24 hours. If I do not hear from you in that time they will be executed. Naturally, despite thorough interrogation, they refuse to reveal your location. Turn yourself over to me and they may go free. 24 hours, American. At police headquarters. Or they die."
Marie's face looked like fresh snow. Bill tried to act unshaken, but his hands had other ideas. He kept them in his lap and resurrected his British accent.
"I say, what was that all about?"
Marie started to question, but the sternness of Bill's look at her encouraged her to play along. "Merely a message from some policeman to an American. I do not know what it means."
"Sounds like this American is in a bit of trouble, eh wot?"
"It seems so," Marie replied.
Simon said, "Bah. I do not care for this matter. But this police buffoon, he always stop the music. Angry it makes me."
"How long has he been broadcasting this message?" Bill asked.
"About three hours. The music, it stops all the time. Who cares?"
Marie smiled. "Perhaps the American cares. Whoever he is."
The city approached. The music resumed and Simon lost himself in it. Bill spoke to him several times without response and finally tapped him on the shoulder. "I say. Could you stop at that phone over there, old boy?"
"As you say." Simon swung the car over to the curb and Bill jumped out.
He shut himself in the phone booth and dialed 911. The phone made strange sounds in his ear that reminded him which continent he was on. He tried what he hoped was an operator button. A voice said something he couldn't catch in French.
"Uh, sorry, no speak. Do you speak English?"
"English?" the voice squeaked back. "Oui, Monsieur. How may I help you?"
Bill decided to be direct. "I'm the American that guy on the radio is looking for and I don't have any change. Can you connect me anyway?"
He heard the operator's whispered oath. "I will connect. Moment please."
The receiver clicked a few times, made a gurgling noise and a voice said, "Police."
"This is Bill Hall. Where's Leblanc?"
Bill heard scuffling sounds, a French growl, and a familiar voice said, "We have had many crank calls. How do I know this is you, American?"
"That pain in your shoulder should be enough to convince you."
"I see. And how is your leg that I injured?"
"My face is clearing up, thank you. My wife wants to talk to you about that. With a baseball bat."
Leblanc laughed. "Very well, I am convinced. Speak, American."
"All right, Leblanc. What do you want?"
The voice laughed again. "What do you think I want, American? No tricks, no fights. You, alone, in exchange for the woman and the boy. That is it, how do you say, American? In a nutshell."
"Congratulations on joining the cliche club. How do I know you'll let them go?"
"You have my word, American. I will release them."
"Your word's worth about fifteen cents to me, DoubleBlank. We both know you'll kill them anyway."
Leblanc's harsh laughter made the earpiece sputter. "You have no choice, American. If you do nothing, I kill them anyway. Can you let this happen?"
"I won't just waltz in there so you can gun me down."
"As I say, American. You have no choice."
"You know, the way you say 'American' makes me wish for the good old days when my boss called me 'Yank'."
"I do not understand your words. Therefore, they are meaningless. You have twelve hours, American. Then I kill them. And it will not be quick. They have endured their interrogation well, but--"
"You son of a - listen, Leblanc. If you've hurt either of them, I'll--"
"You will what, American? Shoot me? You did that once already. Beat me? You did that, as well. No. The only possible ending for our little tale is for me to kill you. I repeat my offer. Their lives for yours."
Bill pounded his thigh with his fist. "Okay. You've got a deal. But we do it my way."
"You are not in a position to bargain, American."
"Wrong, Blankey. I'm the one you want. Hurting them won't satisfy your screwball lust for revenge against me. You do it my way or I disappear and commit them to the Lord. They will understand that. You won't."
The phone paused for a long time. "What is your way?"
"A crowded place. Lots of people. You in plain clothes to avoid attracting attention. We start on opposite sides. They walk toward me, I walk toward them. They fade into the crowd, I go to you. Simple, safe and effective. Like prunes."
Another pause. "Agreed. When and where?"
"I'll call you in twenty minutes with that info. Now I want to talk to them. Both of them, or the deal's off."
"One moment." A silence followed, then a rustling, then Molly's voice.
"Bill, don't listen to him. Get away."
."Don't worry, baby. We're not licked yet. Are you okay?"
"A few bumps and bruises. Nothing serious. Bill, please don't--" The phone made indescribable noises and Paul's voice shouted, "Leave her alone, Pig!" Bill heard a smack followed by a whimper from Paul's voice. Leblanc's rumble said, "Talk!"
"Paul! Are you all right?"
''Bill! Leave at once! They are tracing the call! Get away!" Paul gurgled and was gone. Bill slapped the phone back on its hook and dashed to Simon's car.
"'Get us out of here, quick!" he shouted as he leaped into the car. The stunned Simon obeyed before he realized what he was doing.
Six blocks later, Simon came to his senses and slowed down. He looked over his shoulder at Bill and said, "You are the American."
"Gee, he recognized me without my credit card. That's right, Simon. And all I want is to get my wife and friends to safety and live in peace. It's all in your hands, believe it or not."
"This is your wife?"
"No, she's a friend. That creep's holding my wife."
Simon brightened. "For you, Monsieur, I care nothing. But for this mademoiselle, I would face the lions. You are beautiful, Mademoiselle! Where shall I take you?"
Bill rolled his eyes, while Marie fought to keep from laughing. Bill said, "Can you find us an open place, crowded like maybe a city square or open market or something?"
Simon thought a moment. He adjusted his mirror so he could see Marie and said, "I know a place, Mademoiselle. I show you."
Simon parked the car and took Bill and Marie up a long flight of stone steps. They found themselves in an open courtyard, similar to an open-air shopping mall. People clogged every open inch of space. Simon pointed and asked, "This is what you wish?"
Bill stared. "Perfect. Now, where's a phone?"
"Over here." He led Bill to a booth, where Bill repeated the calling procedure.
"What's this place called?"
"The Plaza."
"Good. Leblanc? The Plaza. Fifteen minutes. Enter from the south. Be there. Aloha." Bill hung up the receiver and felt rather proud of himself. That sign-off had been a classic before he was even born.
Marie crept to his side. "You are really going to do it?"
Bill had explained everything on the way to the Plaza. "Like the man said, I've got no choice. I can't sacrifice Paul and Molly."
Simon scratched his head. "But - but you sacrifice yourself. Have you no sense of self-persecution?"
Bill smiled weakly. "I think you mean, self-preservation. And I've got plenty of it. But the Lord did say the true test of love was laying down your life for those you love. I guess my love's about to be tested."
Marie took Bill's arm. "Are you afraid?"
"I'm scared silly," Bill tried to laugh. "My whole body says, 'Get as far away from here as possible, pronto.' But I--" He broke down and wept on Marie's shoulder. Marie cried with him while Simon sniffed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Bill continued, "If anything happened to Molly because of me I could never forgive myself. And Paul - he's your son. He deserves a life, and you and he need each other. I just - I've got to do it. Even if it means - oh, Lord!" And he cried harder.
Marie stroked his head. "You have faced death before. And you conquered. You will triumph. One way or the other. Ultimately, he cannot defeat you. You possess the most important thing in the world."
Through the tears in his voice Bill said, "Yeah, I've faced it before. But there was always a lot happening. Didn't have time to sit around and think about - but now, this waiting - I can't stand it. The doubts, wondering, is it really real? How do I know? Then I kick myself for doubting." He lifted his head and looked into Marie's eyes. "I'm a mess."
"But you do it still! It is unbelievable!" Simon's voice caught Bill's attention. "You are brave much, Monsieur. Risking yourself for those you love, in the face of certain execution. I do not understand, Monsieur Hall. Why? What compels you?"
Marie looked at Simon. "The most important thing in the world, Monsieur Rochelle."
"Ah, you mean love."
"No, Monsieur. Jesus."
Simon shrugged. "What is that?"
"It's not a what," Bill answered. "It's a who. And Marie's right. He's worth it. I guess. He's got to be. He's brought me this far. I guess all I can do is trust Him."
"You speak riddles, Monsieur. Please to explain."
Bill checked his watch. "It's time. You explain it to him." He shook Simon's hand. "Thanks for the help. See you."
"I hope so, Monsieur. I severely hope so."
Bill didn't bother to correct Simon's English, but turned to Marie. As he hugged her he said, "Take good care of them."
"You will return. I am certain."
"I wish I was. Just keep praying, huh?"
"I will. Adieu. Rather, Au revoir."
"Later." Bill turned and worked his way into the crowd at the north entrance to the Plaza and waited for Leblanc to appear.
Bill quietly thanked God for his height. He scanned for Leblanc's ugly face over the sea of heads illuminated by the Plaza's stadium-like floodlights. When he found it his feet tried to reverse direction, but his resolve somehow overruled his fear and he stared until Leblanc's eyes met his own.
Both Bill and his foe stood a head above the crowd, and so could nod their acknowledgement of each other's presence. Unfortunately, Leblanc's hostages didn't share that advantage. Bill couldn't see them. His face asked Leblanc the question.
Leblanc jerked his head to Bill's left. Bill strained to see, but he couldn't identify Molly or Paul in the throng. He shook his head to Leblanc.
Leblanc, looking angrier, jerked his head again. Bill shook again, pointed to his eyes, and repeated the "no" sign. Leblanc said something Bill couldn't read. Bill shrugged back.
Leblanc acted furious. Even without hearing the words, Bill knew the policeman was ranting his frustration. Then an idea struck Bill. He searched the immediate area and spotted a chair, a white wicker type. The fact that someone already sat in it didn't bother him; he yanked it away, positioned it in the spot where he had been standing and climbed up on it.
Bill stood ready to drop to the ground if Leblanc tried to point his pistol, but the other man only tossed a casual salute to Bill's resourcefulness. Then Leblanc raised his arm over his head and pointed down.
Beneath the pointing finger, Bill saw the objects of his quest. Paul stared defiantly ahead, while Molly searched the crowd with worried eyes. When she found Bill she screamed something at him and shook her head violently. Leblanc laughed and said something to her. She turned to slap him, but he grabbed her arm and twisted. He looked up at Bill and laughed at the younger man's vain fury.
Leblanc straightened Molly up, then gestured to Bill with his revolver. He next placed the barrel against Molly's head. Bill knew what it meant. He spread his arms wide and did a 360 degree turn to say, "I'm unarmed." Leblanc nodded and took the gun away from Molly's temple.
Bill motioned for Molly and Paul to start walking. When they did, he kept them spotted even after he got down from the chair, now that he knew what to look for. Leblanc watched from his original position, a look of triumph adorning his otherwise unglorious face.
The crowd roared like an angry seashore. Bill muscled his way through, around and sometimes over people in his effort to reach his loved ones.
He could see the faces now, both pale and bruised like his own. His legs still tried to run the other way, but his body and swirling mind propelled them forward. The faces bobbed on the waves of humanity like corks with hair. They drew closer, more distinct. He could discern the shape and color of the bruises now. He vowed to make Leblanc pay separately for each one.
Closer, closer, only a few yards separated them now. A fat man eating a pomegranate bumped into Paul and nearly knocked him down. Molly caught him and they resumed their journey. Ten feet, five feet, now Molly was in his arms. He held her for a moment, then slipped his left arm around Paul. They stood silent for a few seconds, then Molly said, "Are you really going to surrender yourself to him?"
He looked into the pretty eyes that he loved so much. They were moist. A large blue spot ornamented her left cheek. It had a faint purple halo around it that nearly reached her nose. Bill nodded and said, "A deal's a deal. Marie's waiting just outside. Get to her and take off, fast."
"I can't leave you."
Bill took her by the shoulders and held her at arm's length. "You've got to. I'll get away somehow."
Molly caressed the bruise on Bill's face. "We're twins now, eh?" She started to cry.
"Paul."
"Yes, Bill."
"Get her out of here."
"But--"
"Now, Paul. We've only got this one chance."
Unnoticed by all three, Leblanc made sure they were together. Then he raised his revolver over his head and fired into the air.
People screamed at the explosion and started to trample each other. Bill, Molly and Paul looked up at Leblanc. His smile sent ripples of terror through them. Suddenly they heard several distinct clicks and looked down into a ring of submachine gun barrels. Five men in plain clothes flashed badges at the panicky crowd and called, "Police! These people are under arrest! Stay back! There is no danger to anyone!"
Leblanc produced a bullhorn and repeated the message in French and English. The crowd slowly settled down, and thousands of eyes examined the little clump of fugitives and the machines of death that held them at bay. Leblanc, still holding the revolver in one hand and the bullhorn in the other, parted a Red Sea of humanity as he strode toward the arrest scene. When he reached the frightened trio he said, "Well, American. We meet again. How nice to see you."
"Why couldn't you just send a Christmas card?" He straightened and looked his captor in the eye. "Look. I'm the one you want. Let them go like you promised."
"I promised no such thing," Leblanc spat back. "I told you I would release them if you would surrender to me at police headquarters. You preferred this little charade, so I have no obligation to you."
Bill took a step toward him, but stopped when he saw one of the machine guns shift in the hands that held it.
"You are a fool, American," Leblanc laughed. "The Plaza was the only possible location where you could attempt such a maneuver. It was a simple matter to position my men in the crowd and wait for the right moment. Now I have you all. You, who shot me, the woman, who made your shot possible, and the whelp who killed and injured my men. A fair bit of hunting, no?"
"Blow it out your ear," Bill mumbled. "I should have known your word didn't mean anything."
"Brave words, American. Spout them while you may. I care not. Take them!"