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Bobby left thispass for a British Airways Paris-to-London shuttle Our instructions: arrive at the Ritz, appear in fashion show, poison pool with LiDV196 caplets, let our photos be taken, order drinks in the Ritz bar, wait twenty ht be dating Victor Ward while Bobby Hughes is away ht be-as per Bobby’s notes-"an excellent distraction"

AQuai de la Tournelle, staring up at the turrets of Notre Da to cal, wailing "I’onna die," and she maneuvers us to a walled-off area so ain, near Quai de Montebello, where I’m fed more Xanax Then a cab takes us to Boulevard Saint-Gerots, where I concede, "I’ht at the Gap" I blowme another Kleenex

"Don’t you want h I think you tipped that cabdriver a hundred dollars?" Pause "Sure"

"No wonder he whistled at me"

At the room ays share in Hotel Costes our bed is already turned down and sprinkled lightly with confetti and I place a25-caliber Walther auto Jamie she positions herself so that it’s easier forby on the TV screen, to which with both hands she keeps directing my attention, because even with her eyes closed, Ja, can feel the need radiating out of ht have felt a spark, she ht have said "I love you"

Afterwards, slouching in a chair across froarette, I ask her, "What was Bertrand talking to you about?"

"Where?" she asks without pausing "Who?"

"At Natacha the other night," I say, exhaling "Bertrand He said sohting a cigarette dreaet about it"

"Do you remember him from Camden?" I ask

"I think so," she answers carefully "Camden?"

"He was Sean Bateman’s roo "Yes Bertrand froarette, washing another Xanax doith a glass of chane, I ask, "Is Bertrand involved?"

"Is Bertrand involved?" she asks, repeating the question slorithing on the bed, her long tan legs kicking at the sheets

"Is Bertrand involved in the ’Band on the Run’ project?" I ask

"No," she says clearly And then, "That’s Bobby’s game"