Toys - James Patterson [54]
Lucy waved as she stepped into the jet’s parachute airlock and the door slid closed. Ten seconds later, no more than that, it reopened with the chamber empty.
Strangely, I felt incredibly alone with her gone. Maybe I had begun to think of Lucy as my only link between two hugely different worlds, Elite and human. Or maybe I just enjoyed her company. She seemed to know about everything, and she could make me laugh, even at times when I shouldn’t.
But I didn’t have long to ponder Lucy and myself before my own jump light started flashing. I immediately sealed myself into the airlock. Seconds later, I tumbled out into the cold, dark sky and was batted around like a feather by the jet’s furious turbulence.
The whipping air got less fierce as I raced farther in my plunge toward earth. At an altitude of approximately three thousand feet, I popped open the chute. There was the satisfying shock of the harness seeming to yank my body upward.
Now I had some control, and I was able to study the landscape below.
Far to the south, I could see the long, glittering curve of the Côte d’Azur and the black emptiness of the Mediterranean Sea. Eastward lay the majestic Alps—huge, craggy, and mysterious shadows in the moonlight.
And directly underneath me—an impossibly small circle of flares marked my target.
I started furiously working the parachute cords to make sure that I landed close by. I was completely trusting Lucy now—and the humans of course. That was still unsettling to me—trusting them. But what other choice did I have?
My acute night vision didn’t pick up any signs of hidden enemies. Just a single vehicle waiting midway inside the circle of flares. It sure wasn’t a military transport.
It was a limo.
And the éminence grise? Where was he? Inside this fancy car?
I glided to earth as silently and invisibly as a ghost, landing in a forest with the crisp scent of pines filling my nostrils and the ground beneath my feet softened by their duff. For a full minute, I stayed crouched there, listening and watching the long, shiny, silver vehicle.
There were no sounds other than the wind through the tree branches and the timid rustlings of a few small animals on their nightly quest for supper.
I eased down onto my belly and started moving toward the flares—and the mysterious car parked out in the middle of nowhere.
Chapter 73
WHAT IS THIS all about? Another absolutely insane adventure? More deep secrets? And why isn’t Lucy here with me for these vital meetings?
The limo’s side door was open, revealing a dimly lit interior that looked, well, like a luxury hotel room—complete with a spa bathtub, which just so happened to be bubbling cheerfully.
Someone was splashing around in it.
A female someone with long, dark hair pinned up neatly behind her head and a few damp strands trailing down her neck. One of her hands was just now soaping her creamy skin. I couldn’t quite see the face yet.
I spent the next few seconds convincing myself that I was really seeing what I thought I was.
“I see you too,” the woman said.
She turned my way and I saw that her face had an exotic, aristocratic beauty, with a fine, arched nose and almond-shaped eyes.
“Welcome to France, Hays,” she said. Her voice was husky and accented; she pronounced Hays as Hezz. “My name is Chantal Dugare.”
“I thought… I was supposed to meet the emmy-nonce greese of Interpol,” I said.
“That would be me.”
I stayed where I was. Surprised, a little confused, maybe intimidated as well.
“No need to be nervous,” she said soothingly. “You are our honored guest. There are resistance soldiers nearby—to protect us if need be. To protect me, certainly. Please, come inside the car. Shut the door.”
I exhaled, stood up, and walked to the limo. What the hell—if I was heading into a fatal trap, at least it was an extremely attractive one. A honey trap. Wasn’t that what they used