Chapter Twenty-Eight
Future Tense
As the plane taxied down the tarmac at Aéroport Nice Côte d'Azur, I finally got Felicia on the phone. I’d slept most of the way on the Air France flight, and I was still groggy. Not the best shape to be in for having this momentous discussion, but I felt it couldn’t wait. Likewise, I could no longer worry about who or what might be tracking my calls or whether I was a fugitive from justice, a person of interest, or just a pawn in the spy game forced to travel under an assumed name. When I took the assignment from Pugsley to go visit the Turk, I’d naturally assumed I was in the clear and in some measure under the protection of my government. And then when I’d been spirited away and forced to confer with the Dutchman and his cohorts, they’d further assured
