CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Once Etienne reached home, he didn’t need to go far to make a deposit into the Seine. He walked across the Pont Neuf, and dropped a few small bags into water flowing toward England. Crowds of people made him confident. Spring in Paris meant tourists. Not just any tourists, but kissing and hugging tourists, staring obliviously into each other’s eyes, while they blocked Etienne’s movements. The next morning, he would take the train through the Chunnel to the Tower Bridge, above the Thames. But, right now his stomach growled and he needed sustenance.
“Bonne après-midi,” said a kind server at Etienne’s favorite café.
While in America, Etienne had missed one of his favorite French meals, typically consisting of pate, French bread, gherkins and the obligatory glass of red h
