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“Here and in Corsica, he’s untouchable On the ed “I’ll ht evidence, real or otherwise, the Carabinieri will be happy to embrace him As for the other one, his partnerhe’s a coward We’ll be fine,you off the island”

Knowing Bondaruk’s influence and Kholkov’s thoroughness made the Marina di Campo Airport too risky, they’d enlisted U boat, to ferry them back to Piombino on the Italian mainland From there they’d returned to Florence, checked into the Palazzo Magnani Feroni, and called Selraphed syht to Marseille The next ht envelope for San Diego, then headed to the airport

“Why all the mystery? Remi now asked Selma Sam sat down on the bed and Remi put the phone on speaker

“Noout some details, but I knew you’d want to be in Marseille one way or the other By the way, Pete and Wendy are working on the sy stuff, but the book’s condition is the big question—”

Sam said, “Selma”

“Oh, sorry Re Müller, captain of the UM-77? I found him”

“Him? You mean—”

“Yep, he’s still alive Took a lot of legwork, but it turns out he was aboard the Lothringen when it was captured After the war he was shipped back to Gerot off the boat, but didn’t take the train hoot their address”

The next ot up and walked to a café, Le Capri, a few blocks away on Rue Bailli de Suffren overlooking the Vieux Port, or Old Port, which was filled with sailboats of all shapes and sizes, their sails dancing in the offshore breeze The bright linted off the water At thefrom the north and south shorelines, were the forts of Saint Jean and Saint Nicholas Above these on the hillsides stood the Abbaye de Saint Victor and the churches of Saint Vincent and Saint Catherine Farther out, in the Bay of Marseille proper, lay the four-island archipelago of Frioul

Saether, the last a few years earlier on their way to the Caypsies froathered there to celebrate their gitane heritage

They finished breakfast and hailed a taxi, giving the driver an address in the Panier, a cluster of htly packed pastel-painted houses sandwiched between the town hall and the Vieille Charité Wolfgang Müller lived in a two-story butter yellohite-shuttered apartment on Rue de Cordelles A blond woman in her mid twenties answered the door when they knocked

“Bonjour,” Sam said

“Bonjour”

“Parlez-vous anglais?”

“Yes, I speak English”