Part 28 (2/2)

Feeling good, feeling victorious, after the encounter with Tikhanov, and free of an engagement to lead another tour, Gisele had requested that her taxi driver make a detour to the photo shop. There she had picked up another package of prints of her tourists, then hopped back into the taxi and told Henri he could now take her to Dominique's apartment.

As they drove toward the domain, slowed by the evening traffic, Gisele spotted someone famihar eating in one of the outdoor caffes. Squinting through the rear window, she made out the mop of orange hair that could only belong to Liz Finch.

As Liz slid from view, and the taxi proceeded on its course, Gisele had a sudden thought.

The probabihty that she had been victorious in her meeting with Tikhanov was still likely, but yet not entirely certain. One shadow of a doubt had cast itself over her encounter. While she did not wish espe- dally to expose the Russian leader -- her only interest was obtaining money from him-there was always the faint possibility that Tikhanov might stand firm. He was a man of peculiar character, on the surface inflexible, and he might decide not to give in to her demand for money but instead risk having his abberation of behavior publicized, feeling that he was powerful enough to ride out any storm. Gisele believed that he would not hazard exposure, yet his stubbornness might induce him to stonewall it, another one of her favorite American expressions.

If, by chance, her prospects of getting money from Tikhanov fell through, she would be left with an empty victory, with merely the knowledge that she had destroyed a Soviet leader. In that case, she would want the money from another source, and having just fleetingly seen Liz Finch, she realized that there remained a second source.

Conjuring up her first meeting with Liz Finch last Sat.u.r.day, Gisele remembered that Liz had spoken of a big story, possibly an expose of Bernadette's veracity. When Gisele, knowing the impossibility of undermining the honesty of Bernadette, the very foundation of Lourdes, had inquired if anything else might qualify as a big story, she recalled Liz Finch's reply: Thousands of people /mm all over the world have been pouring into Lourdes, and more will come tomorrow for the Virgin's encore. Maybe some of them will be newsworthy, and crazy things will happen to them. There could be a story there, too, that would be worth considerable money. Mind you, it would have to be a big story.

It struck Gisele at once that she had what Liz Finch wanted.

The foreign minister of the Soviet Union in Lourdes for a cure by the Virgin Mary.

Certainly there couldn't be many bigger stories.

Liz Finch, Gisele realized, could be her life insurance. If Tikhanov, himself, failed to come through, there would be Liz to come up with the money.

Her mind made up, Gisele determined not to pa.s.s over this opportunity. Leaning forward, she tapped her taxi driver on the shoulder.

”Henri, I think I saw someone a few blocks back that I'd like to speak to for a minute or two. You can find a place to turn around, can't you?”

Nodding, the driver swung his car into the first side street, made a short U-turn, and drove down into the main thoroughfare and began to cover the distance they had already traveled. ”Where to?” he wanted to know.

”I think it was the Cafe au Roi Albert,” said Gisele, peering out the window and hoping that Liz Finch had not already left.

Then she saw the mop of orange hair once more, and felt relieved.

”You can let me off here, Henri,” said Gisele. ”Find a place to park somewhere. I'll just be a little while.”

Negotiating the foot traffic in the street, Gisele could see that Liz Finch was quite alone, relaxed in a red wicker chair, munching away at a plate of pommes/rites and sipping an iced Coca-Cola. What ghastly eating habits Americans had, Oisele thought, but she knew that she loved them nevertheless.

”Hi, Miss Finch,” Gisele greeted her.

Liz looked up. ”It's you. How've you been?”

”Busy as usual.” Gisele pulled back a chair. ”Mind if I join you for a minute?”

”Please do,” said Liz. ”Just having an hors d'oeuvre before dinner. Want some?”

”No, thanks,” said Gisele. ”How's it been going for you? Found any big stories yet?”

Liz shook her head dolefully. ”Not a d.a.m.n thing, nothing but pious hymn singers in this G.o.ddam dull village. I'm just hanging around the whole eight days until someone shouts hallelujah, I've seen the Virgin Mary, which seems to me most unlikely at this point. I can't wait to get back to Paris empty-handed and be fired.”

”Be fired?”

”That's something else. Forget it.” She held a French fry high and dropped it into her mouth. ”How about you? Got any hot scoops for httle Liz?”

”As a matter of fact, I may have. I thought I should have a word with you, Miss Finch.”

”Oh, yeah?” Liz stopped eating and sat up. ”You've come across something?”

”I think I have, maybe,” Gisele said with great earnestness. ”I was remembering, when we first met, you advised me to keep my eyes open for a big story. You told me if I found one, well, it might be worth a lot of money, and your syndicate would willingly pay. Is that correct?”

”It's true.” Liz was alert now. ”What have you got?”

”Well, Miss Finch, I may be on the verge of obtaining such a story-”

”And you're sure this is a big one? No diddling smalltown c.r.a.p?”

”Miss Finch, I promise you, this is not merely a big one. It is a big, big one. The biggest, and with international overtones.” She paused. ”Are you interested?”

”You know I'm interested in any real news, anything super big that you can authenticate. It's not about Bernadette, is it?”

”No. More timely.”

Liz pressed forward. ”Okay, go on.”

”It'll have to wait overnight. I'll know tomorrow if you can have it.”

Liz sat back. ”If it works out, if I decide it is that important, if you can prove it-all right, how much?”

”In your money, $15,000.”

Liz emitted a low whistle. ”You're not kidding around, I can see. You're sure this one is worth that much?”

”Maybe it is worth more, but $15,000 would satisfy me.”

”I won't deny that's a lot of money, Gisele, but if the story is really a blockbuster, and you have the goods to support it, I could certainly get API to pay for it. You said you'd know tomorrow. How will I know when you have it available?”

Gisele took an agency card from her purse and wrote on it. She handed the card to Liz and stood up. ”That's my phone number and address. It's a girl friend's apartment I'm staying at. Call me at noon tomorrow. I'll tell you if you have it.”

”I'll be calling. Fingers crossed, for both of us.”

Another Americanism Gisele adored. She smiled. ”Yes, fingers crossed-until then.”

Striding away, toward her driver on the comer, she felt giddy about her prospects. Now not one buyer, but two.

It was in the bag, as Roy Zimborg used to say.

Having heard in the press tent that Liz Finch had gone off to a cafe, Amanda Spenser was proceeding up the street, searching in every caffe for her. Then, at last, she saw Liz up ahead sitting at a sidewalk table with some young woman. The young woman was rising, leaving, and Amanda quickened her pace to catch Liz before she left, too.

Amanda reached the table just as Liz was cleaning up the last of her French fries.

”I'm glad I found you, Liz. I was looking everywhere for you.”

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