'He's there?' Armstead said. 'Right here. He wants to speak to you.' 'I want to speak to him,' said the publisher. 'One sec -'

153.

Victoria handed Ramsey the telephone and gave him a quick kiss as she slid over on the sofa to make room for him. He closed his hand on top of the mouthpiece and addressed Victoria. 'You actually knew where they took me?'

'I saw it happen on the Champs-Elysees. I managed to follow you.'

He regarded her with real admiration. 'You're quite a kid,' he said. 'Maybe I'll treat you to champagne tonight.' She beamed at him.

Ramsey removed his hand from the mouthpiece. 'Hi, Mr. Armstead. I gather you heard all about my little episode from Vicky.'

'I heard,' said Armstead. 'I want to hear from you what was going on. Who wanted you? Why? And how come you're free?'

'You'll find it hard to believe,' said Ramsey. 'I was picked up on the orders of Carlos, and taken to Carlos himself.' 'Who?'

'Carlos, the Carlos.' 'The terrorist?'

'Numero Uno in person. He had me grabbed. He wanted to talk to me.'

'For G.o.d's sake, why?'

'Because he was sure I was the one and only Mark Bradshaw of the New York Record, and he wanted to tell me -warn me - that if I continued writing stories for the paper accusing him of more kidnappings, he'd blow my brains out. That was it.'

Armstead's voice faltered. 'You mean he denied kidnapping Bauer, stealing the Dead Sea scrolls -'

'- or murdering the Israeli prime minister. He insisted that he had no part in any of those operations.

In fact, he resented being linked to them.' Ramsey caught his breath. 'I better tell you the whole thing play by play.'

Ramsey saw Victoria hanging on every word, eyes wide again, and he winked at her and concentrated on his telephone conversation once more. He launched into a full recital of his enforced meeting with Carlos.

During Ramsey's recounting of his adventure, Armstead did not interrupt once.

Only when Ramsey finished did the publisher speak. 'That's it?' he said.

'The whole thing.'

'h.e.l.luva story,' said Armstead. 'You'd better write it up for us, get it in fast.'

'Happy to,' said Ramsey, 'if you want a reporter with a hole in his head. That's what Carlos promised if I said a word.'

'No, I don't want your life endangered.'

'On the other hand, if we notify the police where they can find Carlos and his gang, and they're in custody, Vicky and I can cover the whole thing and file it.'

There was a pause. 'No, definitely no,' decided Armstead. 'As soon as the police know, everyone will know. We'll lose our exclusivity. Let me handle Carlos my way. I want to be sure we have the jump on the others. I have my own Surete contacts.'

154.

'Do it your way,' agreed Ramsey. 'But you'd better move before Carlos does. He's slippery.'

'Don't worry. Leave him to me.'

'Okay,' said Ramsey with some reluctance. 'But there is one thing I must do. In case Carlos gets away -' 'I told you I'd take care of him.'

'But if he manages to get away, as he always has, I'd better locate Mark Bradshaw. I'd better let him know that Carlos has a contract out on him if he mentions Carlos in print once more. Can you tell me where to get in touch with Bradshaw?'

There was a silence. Ramsey waited, meeting Victoria's inquiring gaze. Finally, Armstead spoke. 'I prefer that you leave Bradshaw to me. And Carlos, as well.' 'As you wish, sir.'

'Leave everything to me,' Armstead repeated with finality. 'Look. You and Victoria go downstairs and have a drink on me. You deserve it. Be back in your suite by - let me see, what time is it? - by midnight your time. I'll be calling you with a full report, and with your next a.s.signment.'

Victoria watched Ramsey hang up, and saw his disgust.

She came closer to Ramsey. 'What is it, Nick? What was he saying?'

'Armstead wants to do everything himself. He insists on it. Apparently he has his own contacts in the Surete. He's afraid that if we go to the police, we'll blow his exclusive. All he's worried about is his G.o.ddam story.'

'Well, all I'm worried about is you,' said Victoria heatedly. 'It's too risky, playing around with Carlos. I think we should go directly to the police.'

'And get fired,' said Ramsey, standing up. 'No, I don't think so, Vicky. I think we've got to let him play his game, and see what happens.'

'I don't like it,' protested Victoria.

'We have to give him a chance. He's calling us back at midnight.' Ramsey reached down and pulled Victoria to her feet. 'Meanwhile, Armstead insisted we go downstairs and have drinks on him.'

'I don't want drinks,' said Victoria. 'I'm hungry.'

'All right. You have dinner. I need drinks.'

She allowed him to lead her to the entry and the door to the suite. He opened the door. She held back. 'Nick, you haven't told me. What did Armstead say about Bradshaw?'

'Only that he'll take care of Bradshaw.'

'Do you think he will?'

Ramsey hunched his shoulders. 'Why not?'

She left the suite. Ramsey closed the door. She followed him to the elevator. 'Nick I want to talk to you about Bradshaw.'

155.

He watched the elevator rise, come to a halt. When it opened, he gestured her inside. 'Later,' he said. 'Let's see what Armstead comes up with. Right now, you have dinner and let me have a few quiet drinks.'

Armstead remained seated, immobilized, in the middle of Kim Nesbit's apartment for a long time, staring at the olive green telephone he had recently used. He played and replayed his conversations with Victoria Weston and Nick Ramsey over in his mind, and tried to think.

He had left the office to come to Kim's apartment in the late afternoon because he'd had a sudden urge to possess her, his first in many days. He'd been high from all his successes, pleased with himself, pleased with the tip from Bruce Harmston that Time magazine was considering giving him a cover, had already a.s.signed a photograph session, and Armstead had wanted to celebrate. After letting himself into Kim's quarters, he had been mildly annoyed to find her napping - more likely, pa.s.sed out - on her bed. He had not liked her condition - her blond hair tangled, her mascara smudged beneath her closed eyelids, her breath reeking of whisky - and she was sprawled still in her nightclothes at midday. But his annoyance had been overcome by the sight of the flesh of an inner thigh through the parting of her white silk robe. The realization that she was nude underneath had heated his desire. It had been difficult to awaken her, but once she was fully awake and sobering, she whimpered her pleasure at the sight of him and clutched him, holding him tightly, promising to make him happy, happier, the happiest. He had allowed her to go to the bathroom to freshen herself and get ready, and had removed his jacket and been about to undress when the telephone rang in the living room and it was Harry Dietz. Armstead had had no wish to call back that Weston girl at this time, or from this place, but his concern at the urgency of the call had got the better of him. He had phoned Victoria in Paris, and spoken to Ramsey as well. Now he was trying to decide what to do. Glancing down the hall to the bedroom, to be certain that Kim had not emerged from the bathroom as yet, satisfying himself that she would still be a while with her bath, makeup, lotions, perfumes, lingerie, he decided that there was time to make another call. From his wrist.w.a.tch he guessed that Harry Dietz would still be at the Sherry Netherland. This was something to be handled through Harry.

He dialed the hotel and soon had Dietz on the other end.

'Harry, I called the Weston girl in Paris.'

'Was it as important as she said, or a false alarm?'

Armstead dropped his voice. 'It was important all right.'

'Yes?'

'Ramsey, Nick Ramsey, is back in Paris. He was nabbed by the Carlos gang on the Champs-Elysees.'

'You're kidding.'

"The Weston girl saw it and followed them. She discovered where Carlos is hiding out.'

'Hey, what a story. If we give it to the police -'

'We give it to every newspaper on earth,' interrupted Armstead. 'I had to restrain Ramsey from blowing the whistle on Carlos to the French police. That's no good.'

156.

'You're absolutely right, Chief. What can we do about Carlos?'

'I'm not sure yet,' said Armstead thoughtfully. 'But I want to keep an eye on him until we decide how to handle it. Is Gus Pagano there?'

'Just returned to Paris.'

'Good. Give Pagano an immediate call. Tell him Carlos and his gang are holed up at 12 Rue Martel.

They may be moving to another location before midnight. Tell Pagano to get his a.s.s right over to that area and put a tail on Carlos. I want to know where he is when I've figured out how to bust the story.'

'Will do,' promised Dietz. 'Sa-ay, you haven't told me -why did Carlos pick up Nick Ramsey?'

'Thought he was Mark Bradshaw. Doesn't like Bradshaw's stories blaming everything on him.

Swore he'd kill Ramsey or Bradshaw if another Bradshaw by-line appears.'

Dietz laughed. 'He'd kill Bradshaw?'

'Or Ramsey,' said Armstead. 'Ramsey doesn't think it's very funny. He's determined to find Mark Bradshaw, not only to warn him, but to get Carlos off his own neck. He pressed me pretty hard on that.'

'What did you say?'

'That I'd handle Bradshaw myself. Look, Harry, I'm a little worried about Ramsey. He didn't like my taking Bradshaw away from him. He may be in an inquisitive mood, start poking around on his own. That could cause some trouble. What do you think?'

'I think you should pull him out of Paris immediately - in fact, bring him back from Europe.'

'Just what I was thinking,' said Armstead. 'Okay, here's what I want you to do. I'm supposed to give Ramsey a call at the Plaza Athenee by midnight his time. I want you to make that call for me.'

'And tell him what?'

'First tell him that I got in touch with my Surete contacts in Paris. But it was too late. Carlos got away. We lost him. Now that he's loose again, we're worried about Ramsey's life. We want none of our staff in danger. Our first duty is to protect our reporters. Therefore, for his own sake, we are recalling him. As of tomorrow morning, Ramsey is to leave Paris, fly to Washington. Tell him we're transferring him to special duty in the Washington, D.C., bureau. Tell him to bone lip on President Callaway's agenda during his meetings with the British prime minister in two weeks. Tell Ramsey we may send him along with the President. Will you take care of that?'

'What about Victoria Weston? Maybe you should take her out of Paris, now that Pagano's back in town?'

'Victoria Weston,' Armstead reflected. 'No, not yet. I want her in Paris digging up research on Lourdes, for a backgrounder on the Pope's upcoming visit to the shrine there. Just play it safe, have Pagano leave for Lourdes tomorrow. Have you got all that?'

'First, call Pagano.'

'He's to tag after Carlos. Then have someone else do it after Gus heads for Lourdes.'

'And you want me to get Nick Ramsey at midnight their time and instruct him to leave for Washington -?'

157.

'Wait a minute,' said Armstead, rising. 'Maybe it would be better coming from me. Let me handle Ramsey and Weston from the office. You take care of Pagano. Look, we have to do this right. I'll be in the office in twenty minutes. Meet me there.'

As he put down the telephone receiver, he had a glimpse of Kim Nesbit in the entrance to the hallway. She stood there in a pink filmy something or other, smiling sweetly at him. Then she turned away and disappeared.

Armstead had entirely forgotten about her and why he was here.

Slowly b.u.t.toning his shirt again, tightening the knot of his tie, he started for the hallway.

When he entered the bedroom, Kim had just slipped out of her negligee and thrown it on the chaise longue. She was wearing a white silk Chinese pajama top that barely covered her pubic hair, no more. She pirouetted toward Armstead, smiling seductively, arms outstretched.

'You're still dressed, darling,' she said. 'I thought you couldn't wait. I know I can't. I'm so happy you're here. It's been too long.'

Her speech trailed off as she realized he had gone past her, avoiding her arms, and had reached for his coat jacket and was getting into it.

Her expression change. 'What are you doing?'

'I'm sorry, Kim. I've got to rush back to the office. Something just came up.'

She hurried to him, throwing her arms around him. 'Oh, darling, don't, please don't go. Give me a little time. Let's have a little time together. I've hardly seen you. I want you, I need you.'

'Later,' he said brusquely. 'I've got more important things to do right now.'

He pulled himself free by force, spun away and left the bedroom. She stumbled into the hallway after him. At the living room, she clung to him, entwining her arms around him again.

'Darling, please, please,' she implored. 'There's us. The world can live a little while without you.'

'It can't!' he said fiercely, seizing her by the arms and freeing himself.

He stormed across the living room.

'Don't,' she called weakly, 'don't leave me alone again.'

At the door, opening it, he hesitated, as if to say something more. He saw her, almost oblivious to him, starting to pour a drink.