"Oh! Are my guests uncomfortable? Please to accept my apologies, my friends. Unfortunately, it can get very, very uncomfortable when too many people try to fit into a small car. Do you not agree?"
"Tee hee," Bill sneered. "You're just jealous because I did it to you first. So you have to do it back. Big baby."
"Your insults bother me not, American. However, as it occurs, this is a side benefit that I did not plan. But we must transport you." He laughed uproariously and Soubisse joined him. Leblanc turned serious. "You have been a worthy opponent, American. Though I do not wish to do so, I respect you."
"As much as Grant respected Lee?"
"I do not know the men of whom you speak."
"In our American Civil War. They were the generals. When Lee finally surrendered, Grant respected him enough to let him keep his sword."
"Ah. No, American. I respect you, but not this much. Your civil general no doubt knew that his defeated foe would not strike him down if he let him go. I do not know this about you."
"My foot, you don't know. I had you flat on your back with my gun up your nose. One twitch and I could have blown whatever you use for brains out. But I didn't. Doesn't that tell you anything?"
"It was my gun, American. Not yours. And it tells me that you are a fool."
"What about my honor?"
"I do not know that you have any."
Molly spoke. "Forget it, Bill. He's deliberately spouting doubletalk because he's afraid to admit that you're right. Aren't you, Monsieur Leblanc?"
Leblanc cocked his head toward his driver. "Charles, did you hear something?"
Soubisse shrugged. "Something. An insect, perhaps."
Bill chuckled. "Did you guys hear that? Mr. Soufflé made a funny. You guys are a barrel of laughs. Which one is Abbot and which is Costello? Or are you Romeo and Juliet?"
Leblanc thrashed around as if he intended to climb over the seat. He stifled a scream of pain as he tried to use his bad shoulder. Bill frowned. "Touchy, aren't we? Aww, did you hurt yourself? Well, if you're a good boy, Officer Soufflé will kiss it and make it better. Just like he kisses your--"
"Enough!" Soubisse shouted. "Silence!"
Molly fought down the rising grin that threatened to flood her face. Paul was suddenly very interested in something outside the window. Bill, who sat in the middle, continued, "Why, what's the matter, Soufflé? I thought you liked being the faithful little puppy dog who licks his master's boots."
Soubisse's knuckles radiated white and the steering wheel trembled. Leblanc saw it and said, "Soubisse! Hear him not. Do you not see what he does? He seeks to turn us against one another. Divide and conquer. But it will not work, will it, Charles?"
Silence.
"Will it, Charles?"
Soubisse's hands took forever to relax. Through clenched teeth he said, "No, Francois. It will not work."
"Do all French cops have brown noses? Or just the ones who play chauffeur? How about it, Soufflé? What do you think?''
Soubisse nearly sideswiped a parked car. "My name is Soubisse, you stupid Yank!"
''Yank? Ah, that reminds me of the good ol' days back in London town. Tell me something, Stupisse."
"Soubisse!!"
"Whatever. My French never was that hot. Who beat up the kid? I'll bet that made him feel like a real big man, beating a woman and a boy."
"Shut up, you swine."
Bill looked at Molly. "Methinks the man doth protest too much."
"Oh, dear." Molly rolled her eyes. "Where have I heard that before?"
Bill gave her a sassy wink. "Don't sweat it. Speaking of which, what happened?"
Molly blushed. "Rather foolish, actually. I ran a stop light. An officer pulled me over. They had the license number of the car. A routine check led to our incarceration and subsequent 'interrogation'. The rest, as they say, is history."
Leblanc turned to them again. "No, my dear. You are history. American, you may taunt and goad all you wish. It will not change the outcome of this arrest. You are all dead. All of you." He turned back to the windshield.
Bill laughed. "You Frenchies sure have changed."
Leblanc refused to take the bait. Bill pressed. "I guess honor's a thing of the past, huh?"
Leblanc stared straight ahead. "What do you think, Soufflé? What ever happened to French honor?"
Bill saw a glimmer of hope when Soubisse asked, "What do you babble about now, American?"
Bill acted as though he hadn't heard. "Ah, yes. The old days, when two gentlemen defended their honor in a duel? Of course, when you consider how you guys always tried to imitate the Americans, and made a mess of it every time--"
"You lie, American. The French have a long and noble history, unlike your motley group of colonists who, by some whim of fate, were able to defeat an already decadent British empire."
"Yeah, we did. So what happened? Ten years later the French just have to mimic us. They have their own revolution. Ours resulted in a democracy where everybody was free to have their own ideas, even a nut like Masters. So what does the French imitation lead to? The reign of terror, worship of the guillotine. Anybody who disagreed with the muck-a-mucks in power got a close shave, I think the book put it. How wonderful. And it just went downhill from there. We could talk about a country so screwed up Napoleon had to try to conquer the world and get France's tail whipped again. Yep. A proud, noble history. Baloney." He spat on the floor.
So suddenly and so hard did Soubisse slam on the brakes that Leblanc's head smacked into the windshield. The trio in the back seat cried out as their bodies bounced off the front seat.
Soubisse growled at his unconscious commander. Then he turned to Bill and screamed, "All right, American! You wish a duel? You shall have it! Out of the car!"
Bill shrugged to remind Soubisse that his hands were cuffed behind his back. "I'd be glad to, but I have this little problem."
Soubisse ripped his own door open, bounded out of the car and threw open the back door. He dragged Bill out over Molly's lap and fumbled for his key to the cuffs. When he had taken them off he took two steps back and drew his revolver. "On your feet, pig!"
Bill struggled to his feet and rubbed his aching wrists. "Uh-huh. I get it. This is our duel. You take the cuffs off and then gun me down. That oughta rescue your precious French honor." he spat again.
Staring down the gun barrel by the light of a street light, Bill knew he played a dangerous game. Still, if he kept the pressure on, he might at least have a fighting chance. That sure beat the alternative. "Well, what about it, hot dog? Do we do it like gentlemen, or your way? Or, should I say, your master's way?"
Soubisse's voice climbed to a shriek. "He is not my master! I am superior to him in every way! He is a bumbling buffoon! I am the mind that makes him appear competent! And you shall have your duel!" He reached behind him and drew another revolver with his left hand. "Catch this and put it in your belt, or wherever you choose to draw it from. I give you my word it will be a fair duel."
Soubisse drew his arm back to toss the pistol underhand. An unmistakable hammer click stopped him.
"You have seen too many American cowboy movies, Soubisse. Move another millimeter and I will kill you where you stand." Leblanc, his face streaming blood, leaned over the car with his portable cannon trained on Soubisse. Soubisse dropped the second pistol on the ground and tried to keep his own gun from shaking.
"Commander, I - he - the American, he tried to escape. I--"
"Shut up, Soubisse. Why should you seek to explain your actions to a bumbling buffoon? Why, Charles. Are you ill? You perspire terribly, and your face, it appears pale. Perhaps you should sit down."
Leblanc drove. Three prisoners sat, hands cuffed behind them, in the back seat. Soubisse sat handcuffed in the same manner in the front seat. Bill looked at Molly. "Well, it almost worked."
Molly just sighed. Paul echoed her sentiment.
Bill said, "Soubisse?"
Soubisse twisted himself so he could see Bill. "Yes, American?" His face was hard to see in the dim light.
"Name's Bill. Look. For what it's worth, I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to do it."
"As am I, Amer - Bill. But at least you know that one Frenchman still believes in honor."
"True. But I think I could have taken you."
"Alas, we shall never know, shall we?"
With a rising sense of regret, Bill answered, "No, I guess not. Pity."
"Soubisse," Leblanc groaned, "You are truly a fool. But no matter. The department will decide your fate when I file my report."
"Truly you are a maniac, Commander. You have no honor, no values, no manhood. Only your insane obsession. I pity you."
"Shut up, Soubisse!"
"What if I do not? Will you kill me? I am a dead man already. No, Commander. I will speak freely. You truly are a bumbling buffoon."
"Something I don't understand about that, Soubisse."
"What is that, Bill?"
Bill took a deep breath. "He's stayed on our tails pretty good so far. And you're in his service. Why the change of heart all of a sudden?"
"I never cared for this chase, Monsieur Hall. My captain, how you say, drafted me into this chase because Francois and I have been friends in the past. None was happier than I when Captain Marchand set the deadline."
Leblanc looked at Soubisse for the first time since he had assumed the driving. "How did you know about that?"
"Are you so stupid, Leblanc? I know frequency two, as well. We all heard the Captain's order. We also heard your intent to drive off and leave us." He paused to enjoy the look on Leblanc's face. "The men hate you, Francois. In a life-or-death confrontation, I fear they would leave you to your wits. Which would leave you with nothing, of course."
Paul found his voice. "What is this deadline?"
Soubisse sighed. "Had you evaded us until this time tomorrow evening, we would have been recalled to Paris. You would have won, and Le Grand Gendarme here would have lost his command." He sighed again. "I am a policeman, and I believe in my duty. But I have difficulty to decide if having caught you is a good thing."
"To catch them is a good thing," Leblanc answered. "To chance them escaping for the sake of some stupid sense of honor is the not good thing, Soubisse."
"And what will you do, Francois? Simply shoot all of us? The men will not help you, particularly when they learn what you have done to me. They may even mutiny. You are a man completely alone, Commander. Can you fight the whole world?"
"I do not need to fight the whole world. Merely--"
Bill laughed, "Merely all the people in it."
Leblanc switched on the headlights against the lengthening dark. "No, American. Merely you and a handful of soft fools."
Soubisse turned back to Bill. "Which, translated, means the entire State Police of the District of France." He laughed in spite of himself.
Bill was about to answer when he heard Leblanc curse. A car squealed into the intersection right in front of them, apparently out of control. Leblanc stood with both feet on the brake. Once again the three in the back seat found themselves thrown about like dirty socks. Soubisse, hands pinned behind his back like the others, hit the windshield in almost the same place that Leblanc had, but with the back of his head. Unlike Leblanc, Soubisse went through the glass.
Leblanc ignored his fallen comrade. He tumbled out of the car and met the driver of the other car in the middle of the street. They shouted to each other in French; Leblanc made threats while the other man sought to explain what had happened.
Bill squinted through the fractured windshield. Under his breath he said, "That guy looks familiar."
From beside the police car a shot arrested everyone's attention. Leblanc whirled, hand on his holster. A woman's voice shouted something in French.
Bill swiveled himself to try to see. Molly said, "Marie!" Paul said, "Mama!"
Bill turned back to Molly. "What'd she say?"
"She said, 'Give me a reason, pig,"' Molly answered. "Feisty as ever, isn't she?"
Leblanc dropped his gun and put his hands on his head while Simon ran over and opened Bill's door. Marie persuaded Leblanc to turn over the keys to the handcuffs, which she tossed to Simon. When Simon had released everyone, Bill made Leblanc lay spread-eagle on the ground. Then he called, "Let's get out of here!"
Paul and Molly charged to their car, which Marie had brought up behind the police vehicle. Simon climbed into his own car, while Marie backed toward the little blue Saab. She still trained the gun on the prone policeman. Leblanc said something to Marie in French. Marie's hands started to shake, but she held on. "You lie," She answered.
"No, Madame Jarnais. Turn them over to me and he will go free."
"Liar!" Marie shouted, and increased her reverse speed until she reached the car.
Bill started toward his car, then stopped and trotted to the passenger side of Leblanc's car. Molly called out her window, "What is it?"
"Just a sec," Bill said . He opened Soubisse's door. The officer had not moved. Bill drew Soubisse's head out of the broken windshield and toward the back of the car. Soubisse flopped onto the seat like a wet rag. Bill felt the neck for a pulse. He spun around to Leblanc, who remained on the ground. "Well, Frank," Bill said. "You ought to have one bright spot in this whole thing."
"What might that be, American?"
"Soubisse is dead. Looks like his neck's broken. Congratulations." Bill jogged off toward the car, which he discovered was running. He jumped behind the wheel, signalled to Simon and sped away. Simon followed about a block behind.
Molly asked, "Now what?"
"We try to figure out what was in that famous book."
"What book is that?"
"1001 Fast Routes Out of Town, by I. M. Yella."
All three passengers groaned. Then Paul said, "Officer Soubisse. Is he--"
"It was dark. Nothing but the dome light to see by. But I'd guess he never knew what hit him. And yes, he's dead."
"Poor man," Molly sighed.
"Yeah. He wasn't too bad as Christian-hating creeps go."
"lt was all my fault," Paul sobbed suddenly. "I insisted to go to town. To think that we might have simply gone free. I am a fool."
Marie cradled her son's head and let him cry. When he slowed, she said, "No, Paul. You could not know what would happen. It is all past now. We must leave this day behind us and go on."
"By the way," Bill said. "Where'd you find the car?"
"In a police detention lot. We had to steal our own car."
"How'd you get the keys?"
"You may notice there are none."
Bill gaped at the empty keyhole. "Hot-wired?"
Marie smiled. "Simon knows many things. He showed me how and helped me get the car. He is a Christian now, and I think he likes me. He used his card to buy us fuel."
Bill looked in fascination at the gas gauge, now pegged at "full," and heard Marie mutter, "Simon is very nice. I like him. And I am sure Monsieur Leblanc is a liar."
"Why, Mama? What did he say to you?"
"He is a liar. He told me that my husband - your father - is still alive. We know that is not true." But Paul saw that her hands were shaking again.