Games of State - Tom Clancy [96]
Richter snickered. "Lass mich in Ruhe," he said dismissively. He sat back with the guns close by. Then he reached over to the bar between the seats, drank from a bottle of sparkling water, and shut his eyes.
Leave him alone, Jean-Michel thought. This was insane. Richter was insane. There were two bodies in the car, the world was about to be disordered and reconfigured, and this madman was taking a nap.
"Herr Richter," Jean-Michel implored, "I urge you to cooperate with M. Dominique. He can and he will help you, I promise."
Without opening his eyes, the German said, "M. Horne, I don't care to listen to anymore. It's been a long and stressful day and it will be two hours, at least, before we reach our destination. Some of the country roads are a bit shabby. You might want to close your eyes as well. You look a little peaked."
"Herr Richter, please," Jean-Michel persisted. "If you'd only listen."
Richter shook his head. "No. We'll be silent now, and later, you will listen. And then you will report to Dominique. Or perhaps you will elect to remain here. Because you will see why I am confident that Felix Richter and not Gerard Dominique will be the next Führer of Europe."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Thursday, 5:47 P.M.,
Hamburg, Germany
The Ambassador Hotel was located on Heidenkampsweg, on the other side of Hamburg. Hood was barely aware of being driven through the crowded streets or over the crisscrossing beauty of the narrow canals and basins. When the car pulled up, Hood bolted out and ran to the house telephones. He asked the operator for Ms. Bosworth. An awful silence followed, as he waited to be told that she had checked out or that she had lied to him about where she was staying and there was no one here by that name.
"Hold on, please," the operator said in English, "and I will ring that room for you."
Hood thanked the man, then held on. His heart was thumping out of control. His mind was everywhere yet nowhere. He would think about Gerard Dominique and the hate games, but he always ended up back on Nancy. What they'd had. What she'd done. What they'd lost. And then he would get angry with himself because his heart was out of control that way too. He was consumed, again, with Nancy Jo. Even though his hunger could go, would go nowhere.
"Hello?"
Hood leaned on his forearm, against the wall "Hi," he said.
"Paul? Is that you?" Nancy sounded genuinely surprised, and pleased.
"Yes, Nancy. I'm in the lobby. Can we talk?"
"Of course! Come up."
He said, "It might be better if you came down."
"Why? Are you afraid I'll attack you the way I used to?"
"No," Hood said, uncomfortable with his thoughts. He wasn't afraid at all, damn him.
"Then come on up and help me pack," she insisted. "Fifth floor, turn right, last door on the left."
She hung up and Hood stood there for a moment, listening to the dial tone. At least it drowned out his heart.
What are you doing, asshole? he asked himself. After a moment of self-pity, he answered, You're going to find out information about Gerard Dominique. About hate games. About what might be going on in Toulouse. And then you're going to go back to Hausen's office to report on what you've found.
Replacing the phone in its cradle, Hood turned toward the elevators and rode to the fifth floor.
Nancy answered the door wearing tight jeans and a pink polo shirt. The shirt was tucked in, emphasizing her delicate shoulders. The raised collar showed off her long neck. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail like the one she'd used to wear when they went bike riding.
She smiled her perfect smile, then turned and walked back to the bed. There was an open suitcase on the cover. As she packed the last of her toiletries, Hood walked over.
"I'm pretty surprised to see you," Nancy said. "I thought when we said good-bye, that was it."
"Which time?" Hood asked.
Nancy looked up. Hood stood at the foot of the bed and watched her.
"Touché," Nancy said with a little smile. She