Read Magic Terror for Free Online

represented the South Americans, possible but even less likely that she worked for the buyers. Maybe they were just a lovely couple going out for dinner. Far ahead, the Mercedes’s taillights swung left off the highway and began winding into the mountains. They had already disappeared by the time he came to the road. N made the turn, went up to the first bend, and turned off his lights. From then on, it was a matter of trying to stay out of the ditches as he crawled along in the dark, glimpsing the other car’s taillights and losing them, seeing the beams of the headlights picking out trees on an upward curve far ahead of him. Some part of what he was doing finally brought back the lost memory.
     
    From inside the telephone booth, he could see the red neon sign, AUBERGE DE L’ETABLE, burning above the walled parking lot.
    “Tonto waiting,” said the contact.
    “I would have appreciated a few words about the girlfriend.”
    “White man speak with forked tongue.”
    N sighed. “I waited across from his building. Hubert seemed to be doing a lot of running up and down the stairs, which was explained when he came out with a stunning young lady in a motorcycle jacket. I have to tell you, I hate surprises.”
    “Tell me what happened.”
    “He dodged all over the place before he felt safe enough to leave Mauléon. I followed him to an auberge way up in the mountains, trying to work out how to handle things if the meeting was on. All of a sudden, there’s this variable, and the only way I can let you know about it is to turn around and drive all the way back to this phone, excuse me, this location usage device.”
    “That would have been a really terrible idea,” said his contact.
    “I waited for them to go into the lot and leave their car, and then I pulled up beside a wall and climbed uphill to a spot where I could watch their table through the glasses. I was trying to figure out how many reports I’d have to file if I included the girl. Remember Singapore? Improvising is no fun anymore.”
    “Then what?”
    “Then they had dinner. The two of them. Basque soup, roast chicken, salad, no dessert. A bottle of wine. Hubert was trying to jolly her up, but he wasn’t getting anywhere. The place was about half full, mainly with local people. Guys in berets playing cards, two foursomes, one table of Japanese guys in golf jackets. God knows how they found out about the place. When they drove out, I followed them back and waited until all the lights went out. In the midst of all this wild activity, I remembered something.”
    “Nice. I understand people your age tend to forget.”
    “Let me guess. You knew about the girl.”
    “Martine is your background resource.”
    “Since when do I need a backup?” Seconds ticked by in silence while he struggled with his fury. “Okay. Fine. I’ll tell you what, that’s dandy. But Martine does all the paperwork.”
    “Let me work on that one. In the meantime, try to remember that we’ve been mainstreaming for some time now. Martine has been in field operations for about a year, and we decided to give her a shot at learning from the old master.”
    “Right,” N said. “What does Hubert think she is?”
    “An expert on raghead psychology. We positioned her so that when he needed someone to help him figure out what these people mean when they say things, there she was. Doctorate in Arab studies from the Sorbonne, two years doing community liaison for an oil company in the Middle East. Hubert was so happy with the way she looks, he put her up in his guest room.”
    “And Martine told him that his partners would have him followed.”
    “He never laid eyes on you. She’s impressed as hell, Kemo sabe. You’re her hero.”
    “Martine should spend a couple of days with me after we’re done,” N said, almost angry enough to mean it. “Let me advance her education.”
    “You?” The contact laughed. “Forget it, not that it wouldn’t be educational for both of you. If you