I killed the engine and stepped off my bike, the Thompson gun still slung from my shoulder. Harding did the same and we stood there, waiting for something to happen. Dupree got out of the car and nodded to a group of soldiers standing near the entrance to the main building. Six of them trotted over and stood in front of us. Their rifles weren't pointed at us exactly, but they held them at the ready. Six other guys appeared in back of us, idly holding their rifles and watching Dupree carefully. Something told me this wasn't an honor guard.

"What's the meaning of this?" Harding demanded. "Take me to Colonel Baril, now!"

"Very good, Lieutenant Dupree. This is the right man." A voice spoke up in English from inside the entranceway. "I would recognize that loud American voice anywhere."

The French soldiers in front of us shouldered arms and stepped aside. Dupree gestured us toward the entrance, where a tall man stood in the shadows, watching us. Harding squinted, trying to see him clearly in the dim light.

"Jean, is that you?" Harding asked.

The man walked through the granite archway and down two stone steps. He was tall and lean, and wore an elegantly tailored uniform. He smiled tentatively.

"It is I, Samuel. If indeed that is who you are. The loud voice sounds the same but I do not remember the gray hairs."

Harding grinned and walked toward him. They exchanged a manly hug and a couple of those double cheek kisses that gave me the willies. We didn't do a lot of that in Southie and I was sure I'd make a fool of myself if I had to try.

"Jean, it has been almost ten years," Harding said. "I see time hasn't made you more tactful!"