The taxi driver was tired and ready to get rid of this fare, but the man didn’t look like the kind one could just kick out of the car, regardless of how late it was. He looked in the mirror again, but the face was difficult to see in the shadow cast by the back of the front seats. “Just drive” the voice said menacingly, sending a chill through the cabbie that made his bowels feel watery. He put his eyes back on the road and said an Ave Maria, resolving not to look back again.
They were headed back north, not quite having reached his subway stop, but about as far away as he could have been from where Jones now wanted to get, as fast as he could. He did not know this part of Paris, but it was after one o’clock and there was virtually no traffic, so he thought the cabbie could make a little better time. “How much longer?” he asked, still in the harsh voice.
“Perhaps ten minutes, monsieur. I do not know this part of the city well. Are you sure of the address?”
“I’m sure, just drive, and pick up the pace, will you. I’m in a hurry.” Jones retreated further into shadows of the back seat to think about what he would do when they got there.