capsule he had. He showed it to me to reassure me that he’d never talk to the enemy about the Resistance.
“We patched him up and, by some miracle, we got him out and across the channel to England. He must have saved a (thousand Allied lives—including mine on several occasions. I owe him a debt that has to be repaid, whatever the consequences.”
“But why, after all this time, is someone out to get him?” Jerry Dodd asked.
“He was active until just about a year ago,” Chambrun said. He flicked the ash off his cigarette into the china ashtray at his elbow. “In a normal world we have our dislikes, our hatreds, our jealousies, our grudges. But the worse that can ordinarily happen to us is the loss of a job, the cheating us out of money, the stealing of a girl or a wife. We think of getting even, but we don’t think of murder. But Lovelace hasn’t lived a normal life, nor have the people against whom he’s operated. The stakes he’s played for have been human lives, political power, national security. His enemies have suffered losses at his hands that you and I can’t begin to measure. It sounds like cloak-and-dagger melodrama, but none of it can be evaluated in normal terms. Violence breeds violence.” Chambrun crushed out his cigarette with unusual emphasis. “There are one or two men I remember from those underground days—Nazis who tortured and murdered friends of mine; if one of them should walk into this hotel today I would have to fight to keep from thinking in the old terms of an eye for an eye. I, by God, would be tempted to square accounts. There are men and women who still burn with that desire for revenge, and Lovelace is their target.”
“Let’s face it,” Jerry Dodd said. “I’d guess that about a third of our customers are connected with foreign missions, consulates, the United Nations delegations. The Beaumont is about as unsafe a place as he could choose if he wants to avoid enemies from other countries. This is their natural gathering place in this country.”
“The energy to fight and to run gives out after a while,” Chambrun said. “A strong swimmer will give up and let himself drown with the shore in sight. There comes a moment when you just say ‘to hell with it.’ Lovelace came here because he thinks he would prefer to die close to someone he trusts and loves. He hasn’t got what it takes to fight anymore or to run anymore.”
“You spoke earlier of using him as bait,” Jerry Dodd said.
“We could hide him,” Chambrun said, “which would be the same thing as police protection. He couldn’t stay hidden forever, and his enemy can wait. My theory is that we let him move freely around the hotel. The whole staff will be alerted and we will watch him like hawks. We should have a fifty-fifty chance of anticipating any move that’s made against him.”
“Is fifty-fifty good enough?” Jerry asked.
“He has no chance if he waits until he’s tired of hiding or the police give up guarding him and he comes out in the open, unprotected.”
“What about quarters for him?” Atterbury asked.
“He can continue to stay with me if he wants,” I said.
“That would be good if you care to risk it, Mark,” Chambrun said. “I think he needs someone with him; someone he can get to trust. I’m afraid he’s very near the cracking point.”
“You want me to alert the staff?” Jerry asked. “I can work out a system so we’ll know exactly where he is every second of the day and if anyone seems to be continually in the picture.”
“Please,” Chambrun said.
The red button on his phone blinked. Ruysdale answered.
“Lieutenant Hardy’s in the outer office,” she said.
“Bring him in,” Chambrun said. Lieutenant Hardy is not impressive on first sight. He’s a big, broad-shouldered blond who looks like a somewhat dim-witted Notre Dame fullback. His grin is sheepish, as though he was always apologizing for a blunder. He makes almost none.
Hardy looked tired and
“We patched him up and, by some miracle, we got him out and across the channel to England. He must have saved a (thousand Allied lives—including mine on several occasions. I owe him a debt that has to be repaid, whatever the consequences.”
“But why, after all this time, is someone out to get him?” Jerry Dodd asked.
“He was active until just about a year ago,” Chambrun said. He flicked the ash off his cigarette into the china ashtray at his elbow. “In a normal world we have our dislikes, our hatreds, our jealousies, our grudges. But the worse that can ordinarily happen to us is the loss of a job, the cheating us out of money, the stealing of a girl or a wife. We think of getting even, but we don’t think of murder. But Lovelace hasn’t lived a normal life, nor have the people against whom he’s operated. The stakes he’s played for have been human lives, political power, national security. His enemies have suffered losses at his hands that you and I can’t begin to measure. It sounds like cloak-and-dagger melodrama, but none of it can be evaluated in normal terms. Violence breeds violence.” Chambrun crushed out his cigarette with unusual emphasis. “There are one or two men I remember from those underground days—Nazis who tortured and murdered friends of mine; if one of them should walk into this hotel today I would have to fight to keep from thinking in the old terms of an eye for an eye. I, by God, would be tempted to square accounts. There are men and women who still burn with that desire for revenge, and Lovelace is their target.”
“Let’s face it,” Jerry Dodd said. “I’d guess that about a third of our customers are connected with foreign missions, consulates, the United Nations delegations. The Beaumont is about as unsafe a place as he could choose if he wants to avoid enemies from other countries. This is their natural gathering place in this country.”
“The energy to fight and to run gives out after a while,” Chambrun said. “A strong swimmer will give up and let himself drown with the shore in sight. There comes a moment when you just say ‘to hell with it.’ Lovelace came here because he thinks he would prefer to die close to someone he trusts and loves. He hasn’t got what it takes to fight anymore or to run anymore.”
“You spoke earlier of using him as bait,” Jerry Dodd said.
“We could hide him,” Chambrun said, “which would be the same thing as police protection. He couldn’t stay hidden forever, and his enemy can wait. My theory is that we let him move freely around the hotel. The whole staff will be alerted and we will watch him like hawks. We should have a fifty-fifty chance of anticipating any move that’s made against him.”
“Is fifty-fifty good enough?” Jerry asked.
“He has no chance if he waits until he’s tired of hiding or the police give up guarding him and he comes out in the open, unprotected.”
“What about quarters for him?” Atterbury asked.
“He can continue to stay with me if he wants,” I said.
“That would be good if you care to risk it, Mark,” Chambrun said. “I think he needs someone with him; someone he can get to trust. I’m afraid he’s very near the cracking point.”
“You want me to alert the staff?” Jerry asked. “I can work out a system so we’ll know exactly where he is every second of the day and if anyone seems to be continually in the picture.”
“Please,” Chambrun said.
The red button on his phone blinked. Ruysdale answered.
“Lieutenant Hardy’s in the outer office,” she said.
“Bring him in,” Chambrun said. Lieutenant Hardy is not impressive on first sight. He’s a big, broad-shouldered blond who looks like a somewhat dim-witted Notre Dame fullback. His grin is sheepish, as though he was always apologizing for a blunder. He makes almost none.
Hardy looked tired and
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