THE PLANE TOUCHED down at the Aeroport de Limoges-Bellegarde at a few minutes before seven in the morning. Colonel Giordi LaForge----One Eye, to Mischa----took the stairs briskly and walked straight into the back of a waiting black car.336Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0IiBWuyutn
"Good morning, Colonel," said a man named Chenault, the highest-ranking DCRI official for the Limousin region, which included Limoges.
"I want an update," LaForge answered in French.
"Yes, sir. The army is on the ground, fanning out with a hard-target search of every home within a five-mile radius. Her photo has been flashed to all known transportation options. And we've alerted the CNI," he said, referring to the Spanish intelligence agency, the Centro Nacional de Inteligencia. "They're searching every train, every bus, every car, every plane that crosses the border."
In addition to Spain, France shares borders with Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, and Monaco. Chenault explained that each country's intelligence services had been notified and were prepared to watch vehicles of all kinds at the border.
Spain had been considered the most likely option, given its relative proximity to Limoges and the fact that Mischa Barton spoke its language fluently, but Delannoy didn't buy that. She'd used the overnight train as a head fake, to get the authorities moving south. More likely, he thought, she was moving in the opposite direction.
Or not moving at all. The Limousin region was almost entirely rural countryside, offering countless places to hide.
"She'll want things to die down first," LaForge speculated. "She'll hunker down for a few more days somewhere before making her move." He looked over at Chenault. "Now explain to me again what happened."
Chenault went over again. It was the third time LaForge had heard it. He always liked to hear the explanation more than once; at least one additional fact would emerge with each recounting of the events.
"It was the overnight shift," said Chenault. "The prison staff is lighter, because the inmates are locked down."
"And yet she escaped."
"The first one in twenty-two years, sir."
Yes. Well, LaForge had always found Mischa to be formidable, from the first time he interrogated her at DCRI headquarters to their final encounter, when she was a lone holdout, refusing to confess even with a generous promise of a twenty-year sentence, even after the other three women's spirits had snapped like twigs.
"I want to know everything Mischa did within the past week," he directed. "Everyone she talked to. Every visitor. Every phone call. Everything she read. Everything she did."
"Yes, sir. The warden, Delannoy, is overseeing it personally as we speak."
The warden. He couldn't keep a prisoner imprisoned, which, the last LaForge checked, was pretty much the beginning and end of a warden's job.
"I don't want Delannoy overseeing his own dick," said LaForge. "I want you handling this. Do you understand, Chenault?"
"Understood, sir."
LaForge leaned back for the first time against the seat. "If she stayed close, the army will find her. But if she didn't, do you what that means, Chenault?"
Chenault looked puzzled. He didn't want to admit he wasn't following.336Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCg9qg3762n
"It means she had help," said LaForge. "And that's how we find her."336Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK2o9Z402bp
