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eyes widened again and she spoke. “Hmmmmm,” she purred. “How do you Americans say it? Oh, yes… NO WAY!” She stood up and strode off, without a backward look.
    Frank talked to a few of the other Victoire members, but none of them seemed to be really clear about Isabelle’s plans. He checked his watch. It was two-thirty.
    â€œI hope we’ve got time to eat.” Joe was also checking his watch as he walked up to Frank.
    â€œHey, there you are,” Frank said. “I’ve been wondering what happened to you. You sort of disappeared.” He noticed Joe seemed to be limping a little. “You okay?” he asked.
    â€œYeah,” Joe answered. “Just a football head butt in the side, that’s all. I’ll tell you about it over lunch.”
    They went to the little café by the bridge andfilled up on soup and sandwiches. Joe told Frank about his adventure in the dungeon of the Conciergerie and played the tape he’d made. “They’re definitely talking about the stadium and the spectators,” Frank agreed. “We need to get this translated. Do you know what happened to Jacques? He disappeared about the same time you did.”
    â€œNope,” Joe answered. “We’ll hook up with him at Le Stade.”
    â€œGood,” Frank said. “Let’s stop at the hospital,” Frank said. “I want to check up on Coach Sant’Anna.” He told Joe about his brief talks with Isabelle Genet and a few of the Victoire conspirators. “I got the feeling she didn’t believe me. I wonder if she could have figured out who we are from the news.”
    â€œWell, I don’t know about you,” Joe said, “but these Victoire guys smell like prime suspects to me.” He checked his watch. “Come on—let’s get to the hospital.”
    The Hardys took the Metro to the small private hospital where the coach was staying. Coach Sant’Anna had a room to himself on the third floor. As they started down the hall, they saw a guard posted at the coach’s door.
    â€œCan you distract him so I can sneak inside the room?” Frank whispered to his brother.
    â€œI’ve got just the stuff for the job,” Joe said with a grin. “Leave it to me.”
    Frank watched from his vantage point at the end of the hall. Joe sauntered down to where the guard stood and began talking to him. Frank watched as the guard responded by shaking his head. It looked as if Joe and the guard were having language problems, with Joe not understanding a lot of French and the guard not understanding a lot of English.
    Then Joe swung his backpack around and reached in to pull out the microphone/recorder. The guard plugged in the earpiece and held the recorder, and Joe disappeared around the far corner. Frank saw the guard nod his head, so he could tell that the guard heard what Joe was saying even though he was out of sight.
    When the guard started to wander away in Joe’s direction, Frank moved quickly down the hall. The guard disappeared around the corner, and Frank slipped into Coach Sant’Anna’s room.
    An acrid medicinal smell filled Frank’s nose. He walked quietly to the bed and peered down at the patient. The coach’s eyes fluttered open, and he gave Frank a weak smile and a nod. He seemed happy to have company.
    â€œDo you remember what happened to you?” Frank asked. The coach nodded his head.
    â€œCan you tell me?” Frank asked.
    Coach Sant’Anna shook his head and pointed to his mouth. Then he pointed to a pad and pen on the bedside table. Frank realized that the coachwas unable to talk. He handed the paper and pen to him and waited.
    The coach scribbled a little on the top page of the pad. But he was interrupted by the shrieking voice from the doorway. “Non! Non!” a nurse cried. Frank wheeled around, but she was already gone. To get the troops, I’ll bet, Frank told himself.
    The