Anyway, one leak plugged.

That left a second one to take care of after lunch.

An hour after lunch, Dietz put his head in.

'Victoria Weston is here to see you, Chief.'

Armstead beckoned him. Dietz stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

Armstead said, T read in the local summaries about the psychiatrist who got in the way of a hit-and-run driver.'

'I was going to tell you myself but I overslept. Sorry, I was up most of the night on that matter.'

'Good job, Harry. The summary mentioned he was in critical condition. How critical?'

'Too early to say. I inquired at the metropolitan desk about several stories, and made this one of them. Scharf, at last word, was still unconscious. Concussion, multiple fractures, maybe a broken back. He was still in surgery.'

Armstead unpeeled a fresh cigar. 'Hope he makes it. Keep me up. Again, my appreciation. Now let's have a go at Miss Weston.'

Armstead was busily sorting through some memorandums on his desk when Victoria Weston was shown in.

'h.e.l.lo, Mr. Armstead. Been a long time.'

He pointed her to a chair across from him and sat back. As he put a light to his cigar, his eyes followed her. She had set down her purse and raincoat and seated herself. She was wearing what was obviously a new French outfit, velveteen jacket, lacy white blouse, paisley skirt. She was poised, pretty, but too intent, Armstead judged. She might be difficult.

'How was the flight from Paris?' he inquired.

'Smooth. I had to settle for a late plane or I'd have been in yesterday.'

'Well, anyway, you got some sleep, I hope, shook the jet lag.'

'Oh, I'm fine all around,' said Victoria.

210.

'I wanted to tell you how pleased we are with you. Your features, they were excellent. And you were on the spot whenever news was breaking.'

'I'm afraid it didn't do you much good,' said Victoria. 'You had everything before I could get it to you.'

"That's what comes of having a first-rate news organization, Victoria. Anyway, we were glad you were there as a backup, in case anything misfired.'

'Mr. Armstead -' she said.

Here it comes, he thought. She is going to be difficult.

'- only one thing upsets me,' she was saying. 'Your bringing me back at this time. As I told Mr.

Dietz, I had the lead on a tremendous scoop, something I was sure you'd want -'

'Of course, we'll pursue it. However, I felt I should discuss it with you first, in person.'

'But it could evaporate, even while we talk,' she protested.

'Don't worry, Victoria. The moment we heard about it, we a.s.signed a staff member in Paris to keep an eye on the place. Where was it? The Rue de Seine and the Rue Jacob. We have someone on watch. But I wanted to learn more, firsthand from you, before chasing it down further. I wouldn't want to make any mistakes, to hurt our credibility. We've built up a fine record in a short time, and every exclusive story of ours has proven to be one hundred percent true. We're the envy of the whole country, leading everyone in circulation. I wouldn't want to endanger this record by trumpeting a beat I could not substantiate. That would be our first sour note. So-'

'But Mr. Armstead,' she interrupted, 'I was there, I saw it happen. I saw them kidnap Carlos.'

'Did you?' Armstead exhaled a cloud of smoke. 'Victoria, forgive me, but I'm an old hand at this sort of thing, and you are new and relatively inexperienced. In' my day, I've attended too many murder trials where five eyewitnesses give five different descriptions of the murderer. I mean, we're all only human -'

'Mr. Armstead, believe me.'

'I do believe you. But my natural instinct to step into something like this warily, to be cautious before becoming involved, made me want to speak to you first. The fact is, I think this has possibilities for a front-page lead. That's why I brought you all the way here. To determine for myself whether we are onto something. So let's start from the beginning. You were on the Rue de Paradis, keeping an eye on the Rue Martel-'

'Keeping an eye on the hideout Carlos was using.'

Armstead held up his cigar hand. 'One moment, Victoria. The last information we had was from Nick Ramsey, after he was picked up and overheard someone in the Carlos gang saying they were moving. And, indeed, when I notified the Surete they staged a raid on No. 12 Rue Martel, and the apartment was already empty. Carlos had moved on.'

'But I found out he had only moved next door.'

'How did you discover that?'

211.

'Why, from -' She looked at Armstead blankly. 'I thought I'd told you. Maybe I forgot to. Anyway, after Nick got to Washington he recalled something he had overlooked telling you - it had slipped his mind - and we were talking and he told me about it. The member of the Carlos gang who had mentioned moving also mentioned that they were moving to No. 10.1 remembered that there was a No. 10 next to the old hideout at No. 12.'

'Enterprising of you, Victoria, but a long shot. There must be countless house numbers in Paris designated as No. 10. The terrorist could have meant any one of them in any one of dozens of other streets.'

'Yes, he could have,' conceded Victoria, 'but he didn't. He meant No. 10 Rue Martel, next door.

Which was what Nick and I had reasoned. Why should the Carlos gang members expose themselves to public view by moving around the city? Wouldn't it be safer to move right next door? As it turned out, that's what they did.'

'How can you be sure?'

'Because I saw Carlos himself, their leader, leave the building.'

Armstead sucked at his cigar. 'Victoria, how do you know it was Carlos? Have you ever met or seen him.in person?'

'Of course not,' replied Victoria, exasperated. 'But earlier, when we were on the terrorist series, Nick described him to me and showed me photos of him in clippings. I was almost sure it was Carlos. Finally, after a few days, I decided to make absolutely sure. I went to our Paris bureau, took out all the photographs on file, and there was a recent picture of the man I had seen step into the Rue Martel and get kidnapped.'

'What made you think he was being kidnapped?'

'Because -' Victoria faltered. 'He - he got into a taxi, in the back seat like a pa.s.senger, and sat in the middle. Then the taxi started off, suddenly swerved into a second driveway and disappeared. In seconds it backed out, and I could see that on either side of the back seat there were two other men, and Carlos, who had been in the middle, couldn't be seen. They'd obviously pushed him down to the floorboard, were holding him by force.'

'You didn't see that happen?'

'No - no I didn't, but it was obvious.'

Armstead remained skeptical. 'Maybe it was Carlos still sitting up in the back seat, only he had moved over to one side when the taxi went into the driveway to pick up another pa.s.senger. Isn't that possible?'

'It's possible,' Victoria had to admit, 'but I don't think that's what happened.'

'You don't think that's what happened,' repeated Armstead. 'And after that?'

'I ran for my car and was able to follow the taxi to the Left Bank, the Rue de Seine, and the Rue Jacob. The hideout of the other gang - the one that had abducted Carlos.'

'You saw this so-called other gang carry Carlos into their hideout?'

'No - no I didn't. I was parking.'

'Did you ever see any members of the so-called other gang?'

212.

'Once. But not really. I saw two men leave in the taxi. I wanted to follow them, but a policeman was giving me a parking ticket. They got away.'

'If we showed you some photographs of terrorists in various gangs, do you think you could identify those two men?'

'I'm afraid not. I didn't really get a clear look at either one. They moved out so fast.'

'But you still think members of another terrorist gang are holding Carlos? I wonder why they'd risk it?'

'I can't imagine.'

'Neither can I,' said Armstead with an air of finality. 'It is possible they may have been some extramural feuding between gangs. But I doubt it. I strongly doubt it. I can't see anyone monkeying around with Carlos. Still, someone might. For that reason, I'll follow through.'

Victoria was not ready to be dismissed. T was hoping you'd send me back, let me follow through.'

Armstead put the stub of cigar in an ashtray. T appreciate your persistence, Victoria. But in this case I don't think it's justified. We'll look into the matter in Paris on our own, use someone who's on the scene. We have plenty to keep you busy right here.'

'I'm sure you have.' She rose, gathering up her raincoat and purse. 'I'm sorry this didn't work out.'

'If it does, you'll be the first to be informed and to be given a share of credit. Take the rest of the day off, and come back to work in the morning.'

'Thank you, Mr. Armstead. I want to spend a little time at my desk, see what's piled up. Then go back to my apartment and unpack and get some sleep.'

'You can use a company car until you get your own.'

'Thanks again.'

Before leaving editorial, Victoria had stopped at her desk to check and sort out the acc.u.mulation of mail that had been unattended since her departure for Europe. It had taken her fifteen minutes to clean off her desk and fill her wastebasket as she discarded junk mail, publicity handouts, outdated interoffice memos.

Finishing, dispirited by her interview with Armstead, she stepped into the aisle, about to depart, and b.u.mped into Harry Dietz, who was hurrying back to his office. He caught her, steadied her, and apologized.

Releasing her, Dietz seached her face. 'Hey, why so gloomy, Victoria? Isn't it good to be back home?'

'Well-'

Dietz nodded understandingly. 'I know. Mr. Armstead filled me in briefly on your talk. Listen, we all make a.s.sumptions, mistakes. But in case there is anything to it, he'll follow through. You can depend on him. If it works out, he'll give you due credit. I promise, you'll share the by-line with Bradshaw. How's that?'

Without waiting for her reply, Dietz hastened off.

Going to the elevator, Victoria tried to mimic his question in her head: How's that?

213.

Getting into the elevator, she angrily replied to his question with her answer: f.u.c.k off, Mr. Harry Dietz.

Stepping out of the elevator into the lobby, she halted, reviewing what Dietz had told her.

He'll follow through. You can depend on him. If it works out, he'll give you due credit. I promise, you'll share the by-line with Bradshaw.

With Bradshaw.

There was no Bradshaw. They knew it. She knew it. But -they did not know she knew it.

Plainly, it was all a sham. Whatever Armstead had promised her, he had not meant. He had not believed her story at all. He had merely dusted her off.

Her anger mounted at the injustice of it. Armstead and Dietz, they were treating her like a child, an inexperienced cub reporter.

Yet, she had seen the happening in Paris, seen it with her own eyes, and trusted what she had seen.

She was not wrong. They, the big shots, the know-it-alls who knew nothing, they were wrong.

Suddenly she wanted to show them up, prove herself.

There was a public pay phone near the exit. It was vacant. Victoria made her way to the booth, closed herself inside, and located her personalcredit card. When she had it, she put through a long-distance call to Paris.

Fifteen minutes later, in his own office on the sixth floor of the Armstead Building, Harry Dietz received an unexpected telephone call that disturbed him. After listening, Dietz said, 'No, I don't know anything about this. Maybe the chief does. Let me see if Mr. Armstead is in. If he is, I think you should speak to him. Let me put you on hold.'

Dietz pressed the hold b.u.t.ton, came to his feet, strode to the private door leading to the publisher's office, knocked sharply and looked in. Armstead was at his desk and alone. Dietz let himself into the office and hurried to the publisher's side. 'Chief, there's a call -' Armstead c.o.c.ked his head questioningly. '- I have a call from our Paris bureau, from Sid Lukas, that perhaps you'll want to take.'

'Sid Lukas?' Armstead noted the time on his desk clock, and calculated the hour in Paris. 'At this time? What's going on?'

'Let him explain,' urged Dietz.

Dietz went to the front of the desk and perched on the end of a chair while the puzzled Armstead depressed the b.u.t.ton on his telephone console and lifted the receiver. 'Sid?' said Armstead.

'Mr. Armstead, I didn't want to bother you, but Mr. Dietz thought you might be able to help.' 'About what?'

'Victoria Weston's call ten minutes ago. I gather she's in New York again. I just missed her call, but she left a message. I gather it was vital or I wouldn't have bothered.'

Armstead was at once alert, staring at Dietz. 'Go on, Sid.' 'I was in Lyons on a story,' said Lukas, 'and just got back to Paris. Thought I'd drop by the office to see if there was anything essential on my desk before going to the apartment. I checked out our message service, and there was one message that sounded critical. A long-distance from Vicky Weston. I figured she was still at her 214 desk, so I called her there. When there was no answer, I asked to be transferred to Mr. Dietz, who felt I should speak to you.'

'Here I am,' said Armstead. 'What do you want to know?'

'I was hoping you could fill me in on Vicky's message. It's a bit cryptic. I guess she didn't want to leave the full message with the service.'

'What's the message?' asked Armstead, although his expression indicated that he knew.