money."

Fredrick said, "The dress appears as though it is of Chez Marie, but she
wears it as though it came from Klein's. Her perfume is Chanel, but she
has used approximately three times the quantity one would expect."

"That's our girl, all right," Steve murmured. "Where can we keep an eye on
her until she leaves?"

"Why not at the bar here, Messieurs?"

"Why not?" Larry said. "I could use a drink."

Fredrick cleared his throat. "Ah, Messieurs, that fifty I turned over you.
I suppose it turned out to be spurious?"

Steve grinned at him. "Afraid so, Fredrick. The department is holding it."

Larry took out his wallet. "However, we have a certain leeway on expenses
on this assignment and appreciate your co-operation." He handed two
twenties and a ten to the _maitre d'_. Fredrick bowed low, the money
disappearing into his clothes magically. "_Merci bien_, monsieur."

At the bar, Steve scowled at his colleague. "Ha!" he said. "Why didn't I
think of that first? He'll get down on his knees and bump his head each
time he sees you in the joint from now on."

Larry Woolford waggled a finger at the other. "This is a status conscious
town, my boy. Prestige means everything. When I take over my Boss' job,
maybe we can swing a transfer and I'll give you a position suitable to
your attainments." He pursed his lips judiciously. "Although, come to
think of it, that might mean a demotion from the job you're holding now."

"Vodka martini," Steve told the bartender. "Polish vodka, of course."

"Of course, sir."

Larry said, "Same for me."

The bartender left and Steve muttered, "I hate vodka."

"Yeah," Larry said, "But what're you going to do in a place like this,
order some weird drink?"

Steve dug into his pocket for money. "We're not going to have to drink
them. Here she comes."

She walked with her head held high, hauteur in every step. Ignoring the
peasants at the tables she passed.

"Holy smokes," Steve grunted. "It's a wonder Fredrick let her in."

She hesitated momentarily before the doorway of the prestige restaurant
allowing the passers-by to realize she'd just emerged, and then turned to
her right to promenade along the shopping street.

Fifty feet below La Calvados, Steve said, "Let's go, Woolford."

One stepped to one elbow, the other to the other. Steve said quietly, "I
wonder if we could ask you a few questions?"

Her eyebrows went up, "I _beg_ your pardon!"

Steve sighed and displayed the badge