"Johnny? Tranquility? You really think-"

"I can't stop thinking!" interrupted Jason, rushing ahead, holding Marie's hand as she stumblingly kept up with him. "Glace," he said, looking up to his right.

"Ice cream?"

"There's a phone inside, over there," he answered, slowing them both down and approaching the huge windows of a pâtisserie that had a red banner over its door announcing an ice cream counter with several dozen flavors. "Get me a vanilla," he said, ushering them both into the crowded store.

"Vanilla what?"

"Whatever."

"You won't be able to hear-"

"He'll hear me, that's all that matters. Take your time, give me time." Bourne crossed to the phone, instantly understanding why it was not used; the noise of the store was nearly unbearable. "Mademoiselle, s'il vous plaît, c'est urgent!" Three minutes later, holding his palm against his left ear, Jason had the unexpected comfort of hearing Tranquility Inn's most irritating employee over the phone.

"This is Mr. Pritchard, Tranquility Inn's associate manager. My switchboard informs me that you have an emergency, sir. May I inquire as to the nature of your-"

"You can shut up!" shouted Jason from the cacophonous ice cream parlor in Corbeil-Essonnes in France. "Get Jay St. Jay on the phone, now. This is his brother-in-law."

"Oh, it is such a pleasure to hear from you, sir! Much has happened since you left. Your lovely children are with us and the handsome young boy plays on the beach-with me, sir-and all is-"

"Mr. St. Jacques, please. Now!"

"Of course, sir. He is upstairs. ..."

"Johnny?"

"David, where are you?"

"That doesn't matter. Get out of there. Take the kids and Mrs. Cooper and get out!"

"We know all about it, Dave. Alex Conklin called several hours ago and said somebody named Holland would reach us. ... I gather he's the chief honcho of your intelligence service."

"He is. Did he?"

"Yeah, about twenty minutes after I talked to Alex. He told us we were being choppered out around two o'clock this afternoon. He needed the time to clear a military aircraft in here. Mrs. Cooper was my idea; your backward son says he doesn't know how to change diapers, sport. ... David, what the hell is going on? Where's Marie?"

"She's all right-I'll explain everything later. Just do as Holland says. Did he say where you were being taken?"

"He didn't want to, I'll tell you that. But no fucking American's going to order me and your kids around-my Canadian sister's kids-and I told him that in a seven spade flush."

"That's nice, Johnny. Make friends with the director of the CIA."

"I don't give a shit on that score. In my country we figure those initials mean Caught In the Act, and I told him so!"

"That's even nicer. ... What did he say?"

"He said we were going to a safe house in Virginia, and I said mine's pretty goddamned safe right here and we had a restaurant and room service and a beach and ten guards who could shoot his balls off at two hundred yards."

"You're full of tact. And what did he say to that?"

"Actually, he laughed. Then he explained that his place had twenty guards who could take out one of my balls at four hundred yards, along with a kitchen and room service and television for the kids that I couldn't match."

"That's pretty persuasive."

"Well, he said something else that was even more persuasive that I really couldn't match. He told me there was no public access to the place, that it was an old estate in Fairfax turned over to the government by a rich ambassador who had more money than Ottawa, with its own airfield and an entrance road four miles from the highway."

"I know the place," said Bourne, wincing at the noise of the pâtisserie. "It's the Tannenbaum estate. He's right; it's the best of the sterile houses. He likes us."

"I asked you before-where's Marie?"

"She's with me."

"She found you!"

"Later, Johnny. I'll reach you in Fairfax." Jason hung up the phone as his wife awkwardly made her way through the crowd and handed him a pink plastic cup with a blue plastic spoon plunged into a mound of dark brown.

"The children?" she asked, raising her voice to be heard, her eyes on fire.

"Everything's fine, better than we might have expected. Alex reached the same conclusion about the Jackal as I did. Peter Holland's flying them all up to a safe house in Virginia, Mrs. Cooper included."

"Thank God!"

"Thank Alex." Bourne looked at the pink plastic cup with the thin blue spoon. "What the hell is this? They didn't have vanilla?"

"It's a hot fudge sundae. It was meant for the man beside me but he was yelling at his wife, so I took it."

"I don't like hot fudge."

"So yell at your wife. Come on, we've got to buy clothes."

The early afternoon Caribbean sun burned down on Tranquility Inn as John St. Jacques descended the staircase into the lobby carrying a LeSport duffel bag in his right hand. He nodded to Mr. Pritchard, whom he had spoken to over the phone only moments ago, explaining that he was leaving for several days and would be in touch within hours after he reached Toronto. What remained of the staff had been apprised of his sudden, quite necessary departure, and he had full confidence in the executive manager and his valuable assistant, Mr. Pritchard. He assumed that no problems would arise beyond their combined expertise. Tranquility Inn, for all intents and purposes, was virtually shut down. However, Sir Henry Sykes at Government House on the big island should be contacted in the event of difficulties.

"There shall be none beyond my expertise!" Pritchard had replied. "The repair and maintenance crews will work every bit as hard in your absence."

St. Jacques walked out the glass doors of the circular building toward the first villa on the right, the one nearest the stone steps to the pier and the two beaches. Mrs. Cooper and the two children waited inside for the arrival of the United States Navy long-range seagoing helicopter that would take them to Puerto Rico, where they would board a military jet to Andrews Air Force Base outside Washington.

Through the huge glass windows, Mr. Pritchard watched his employer disappear through the doors of Villa One. At that same moment he heard the growing sounds of a large helicopter's rotors thumping in the air above the inn. In minutes it would circle the water beyond the pier and descend, awaiting its passengers. Apparently, those passengers heard what he had heard, thought Mr. Pritchard as he saw St. Jacques, gripping his young nephew's hand, and the insufferably arrogant Mrs. Cooper, who was holding a blanketed infant in her arms, come out of the villa, followed by the two favorite guards carrying their luggage. Pritchard reached below the counter for the telephone that bypassed the switchboard. He dialed.

"This is the office of the deputy director of immigration, himself speaking."

"Esteemed Uncle-"

"It is you?" broke in the official from Blackburne Airport, abruptly lowering his voice. "What have you learned?"

"Everything is of immense value, I assure you. I heard it all on the telephone!"

"We shall both be greatly rewarded, I have that on the highest authority. They may all be undercover terrorists, you know, St. Jacques himself the leader. It is said they may even fool Washington. What can I pass on, brilliant Nephew?"

"They are being taken to what is called a 'safe' house in Virginia. It is known as the Tannenbaum estate and has its own airport, can you believe such a thing?"

"I can believe anything where these animals are concerned."

"Be sure to include my name and position, esteemed Uncle."

"Would I do otherwise, could I do otherwise? We shall be the heroes of Montserrat! ... But remember, my intelligent Nephew, everything must be kept in utmost secrecy. We are both sworn to silence, never forget that. Just think! We've been selected to render service to a great international organization. Leaders the world over will know of our contributions."