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couple of years to break in a replacement and for the new Boris to build his contacts. Meanwhile we’ve really slowed their operation down.”
    “You just bet we have. This is sensational.”
    “The Corsican is Pepe Gozzi, a weapons dealer,” Ellis went on. “He supplied the hardware for just about every terrorist action in France in the last couple of years, and a lot more in other countries. He’s the one to interrogate. Send a French detective to talk to his father, Mémé Gozzi, in Marseilles. I predict you’ll find the old man never did like the idea of the family getting involved in political crimes. Offer him a deal: immunity for Pepe if Pepe will testify against all the political people he sold stuff to—none of the ordinary criminals. Mémé will go for that, because it won’t count as betrayal of friends. And if Mémé goes for it, Pepe will do it. The French can prosecute for years.”
    “Incredible.” Bill looked dazed. “In one day you’ve nailed probably the two biggest instigators of terrorism in the world.”
    “One day?” Ellis smiled. “It took a year.”
    “It was worth it.”
    “The young guy is Rahmi Coskun,” Ellis said. He was hurrying on because there was someone else to whom he wanted to tell all this. “Rahmi and his group did the Turkish Airlines firebombing a couple of months ago and killed an Embassy attaché before that. If you round up the whole group you’re sure to find some forensic evidence.”
    “Or the French police will persuade them to confess.”
    “Yes. Give me a pencil and I’ll write down the names and addresses.”
    “Save it,” said Bill. “I’m going to debrief you completely back at the Embassy.”
    “I’m not going back to the Embassy.”
    “John, don’t fight the program.”
    “I’ll give you these names. Then you’ll have all the really essential information, even if I get run down by a mad French cab driver this afternoon. If I survive, I’ll meet you tomorrow morning and give you the detail stuff.”
    “Why wait?”
    “I have a lunch date.”
    Bill rolled his eyes up. “I suppose we owe you this,” he said reluctantly.
    “That’s what I figured.”
    “Who’s your date?”
    “Jane Lambert. Hers was one of the names you gave me when you originally briefed me.”
    “I remember. I told you that if you wormed your way into her affections she would introduce you to every mad leftist, Arab terrorist, Baader-Meinhof hanger-on and avant-garde poet in Paris.”
    “That’s how it worked, except I fell in love with her.”
    Bill looked like a Connecticut banker being told that his son is going to marry the daughter of a black millionaire: he did not know whether to be thrilled or appalled. “Uh, what’s she really like?”
    “She’s not crazy although she has some crazy friends. What can I tell you? She’s as pretty as a picture, bright as a pin, and horny as a jackass. She’s wonderful. She’s the woman I’ve been looking for all my life.”
    “Well, I can see why you’d rather celebrate with her than with me. What are you going to do?”
    Ellis smiled. “I’m going to open a bottle of wine, fry a couple of steaks, tell her I catch terrorists for a living and ask her to marry me.”

CHAPTER TWO
    J ean-Pierre leaned forward across the canteen table and fixed the brunette with a compassionate gaze. “I think I know how you feel,” he said warmly. “I remember being very depressed toward the end of my first year in medical school. It seems as if you’ve been given more information than one brain can absorb and you just don’t know how you’re going to master it in time for the exams.”
    “That’s exactly it,” she said, nodding vigorously. She was almost in tears.
    “It’s a good sign,” he reassured her. “It means you’re on top of the course. The people who aren’t worried are the ones who will flunk.”
    Her brown eyes were moist with gratitude. “Do you really think so?”
    “I’m sure of it.”
    She