The agent turned away as if I'd said something rude. She nodded at a male agent. When she turned back to me, I figured I should up my game. Widen the smile. Turn the charm setting from Low to Stun.

"Step to the side, please," she said with a frown.

I was still grinning like an idiot. "Why?"

"My colleague will take care of your case."

"I'm a case?" I said.

"Please step to the side."

I was holding up the line and the passengers behind me were not pleased about it. I stepped to the side. The other uniformed agent said, "Please follow me."

I didn't like this, but what choice did I have? I wondered, why me? Maybe there was a French law against being this charming because-snap-there should be.

The agent led me into a small windowless room. The walls were beige and bare. There were two hooks behind the door with hangers on them. The seats were molded plastic. There was a table in the corner. The officer took my bag and put it on the table. He started rummaging through it.

"Empty your pockets, please. Put everything in this bowl. Remove your shoes."

I did. Wallet, BlackBerry, loose change, shoes.

"I need to search you."

He was pretty thorough. I was going to make a joke about him enjoying it or maybe say a boat ride on the Bateau Mouche would be nice before he felt me up, but I wondered about the French sense of humor. Wasn't Jerry Lewis an icon here? Maybe a sight gag would be more appropriate.

"Please sit."

I did. He left, taking the bowl with my belongings with him. For thirty minutes I sat there alone-cooling my heels, as they say. I didn't like this.

Two men stepped into the room. The first was younger, late twenties maybe, good-looking with sandy hair and that three-day growth pretty boys use to look more rugged. He wore jeans and boots and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the start of the elbow. He leaned his back against a wall, folded his arms across his chest, and chewed a toothpick.