“This weather and riots haven’t stopped night crawlers from coming out in Pigalle,” Bruno muttered.
The light flicked green. Leclair jammed the gas. The Fiat lurched ahead. After a time they crossed from the Right Bank to the Left at Pont de l’Alma, swung a quick left onto Quai D’Orsay for several long blocks and past an eighteenth century mansion with a pompous colonnade. Next, a right to a deserted square and into a one-way street.
“We just passed the National Assembly,” Bruno said in astonishment. “And over there, the Defense Ministry. This guy’s going into the very heart of the government. He’s involved in a coup?”
The suggestion was too wild to deserve reply, Stanislas thought. Then again, who knew what to believe anymore? Leclair remained too focused to comment.
Another turn and
