Invisible Armies

Chapter 16

"Au nom du fréres Islamique," Laurent says into the microphone, "nous avons cachée une bombe dans la Tour EDF. Elle va eclater dans quinze minutes."

"Perfect," Keiran says.

Laurent looks at him. "You understand French?"

"Enough to know a bomb threat when I hear one." Keiran replays the recorded message. "You sure that's an Arabic accent?"

"I served in the Foreign Legion. Trust me. And you in turn are sure they will not recognize my voice?"

"Just listen." Keiran taps keys, feeds the sentence Laurent just recorded through an anonymizing noise filter, and plays it back. The result is scratchy and unrecognizable.

"Good."

"You've studied the floor plans? And the plugs?" Keiran asks. "Don't want you getting lost in there. And it'd be a shame to get you all the way in and then have you screw things up."

"I don't screw things up."

Keiran nods. "Good. Neither do I. But Angus does. Keep an sharp eye."

"I will. I don't suppose you have learned anything further about who we are truly working for?"

Keiran is glad he is not the only one who wonders this. "Sorry. I have no idea who's the real Hari Seldon behind this foundation. But I am very curious."

"A man like you, I would expect to be able to find things out."

"Even I need some kind of starting point. Give me one thread, a name, an email address, and I'll unravel their whole silicon curtain, but we've got nothing."

Laurent says, "If I happen to find such a thread..."

"Send it my way. Even after I'm gone. I'll be happy to give it a tug, free of charge."

Keiran and Laurent nod shortly at one another, a quick look of mutual respect, then depart Keiran's room. In the kitchen, they find Angus ladling sauce onto plates full of spaghetti. Danielle and Estelle are sitting at the table, which is adorned by wine bottles and a cheese-and-fruit plate.

Danielle is speaking intently into her cell phone. "Don't bother calling a repairman. Françoise, it's too late. Just go to a copy shop and do it yourself. Well, find one! There has to be one open late somewhere in Paris. Yes, I'm sure they can find their way, but the one-sheet gives them the schedule, phone numbers, all the information they need. Françoise, I know they need you there, but this has to be done. Françoise –"

Laurent plucks the phone from Danielle's hand and switches it off. Danielle stares at him as if he just struck her. "What are you doing?"

"Come back to us," he says. "It's too late to make any more preparations. Let Françoise handle things. Everything will work out tomorrow, I promise. Your protest will be fine. Now let's sit and have dinner and talk."

"He's right," Keiran says.

Danielle aims a dirty look at him, clearly still annoyed at whatever it was Keiran said wrong a few days ago, but Laurent puts his hand on her shoulder and she thaws and smiles. "OK. Sorry. I'm just stressed."

"We all are, hon," Estelle says as Angus brings the food to the table. "Tomorrow's a big day for all of us. You have to run the show, I have to make a speech, these three have to..." Her voice trails off.

"Save the world?" Angus suggests.

"Exactly." Estelle tastes the sauce. "Darling, this is exquisite."

"And they thought you kept me around for my striking good looks."

"You're all ready for tomorrow?" Keiran asks. "You've studied the floor plans, the plug types, you know the maximum distances..."