The Loch Ness Legacy Read Free Page A

something to him,” Brielle said. “It didn’t look like good news.”
    Tyler took her drink and set it on the bar. “Let’s find out what the hubbub is about.”
    Tyler caught Grant’s eye and signed to him using the American Sign Language they both knew.
    There might be trouble. Stay frosty.
    Grant nodded, took the smartphone from his pocket, and turned back toward the window.
    Brielle held his elbow and they walked toward the door as if they wanted to get some fresh air.
    Once they were outside, they spotted Fournier speaking with five policemen in riot gear who were gesturing at the east leg of the tower.
    He and Brielle wandered closer until they were in earshot. Brielle translated for him.
    “There’s something wrong with this lift,” she said after listening for a moment. “A maintenance crew is on the way up to fix it.”
    With only one passenger elevator to the first floor working that day, any malfunction would require the guests to make the long walk down the stairs at the end of the evening.
    “That’s how they’re getting onto the tower,” Tyler said. “Come on.”
    They raced over to the minister, who startled at their sudden appearance.
    “You have to stop them,” Tyler said.
    “Please go back inside,” the minister said in fluent, accented English. “This doesn’t concern you.”
    “Those maintenance men are here as part of a ruse. There’s going to be an attack.”
    The minister shook his head in annoyance. He already knew Tyler’s background—that he was a mechanical engineer with a Ph.D. from Stanford and a former US Army demolitions expert—but calling off the party would be a black eye for the French, so his credentials were overshadowed by more political concerns.
    Fournier’s eyes narrowed at Brielle. “Did she put you up to this?”
    “Minister,” Brielle said, “this is a matter of life and death. I suggest you search the maintenance men thoroughly. I think you’ll find they aren’t who they say they are.”
    “You think? They’ve already been searched. Carefully. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have gotten on this tower.”
    “They must have concealed their weapons.”
    “ C’est incroyable ,” the minister said to the policemen, who shook their heads in disbelief.
    “Do you want to take the chance that they aren’t who they say they are? Or that they might be carrying a bomb?”
    Fournier frowned at the mention of explosives, but said nothing.
    At that moment four men dressed in blue overalls appeared, coming out of the small maintenance lift in the south pillar.
    “I’ll prove they’re not lift experts,” Tyler said.
    “How?”
    “If they are in fact maintenance workers, they’ll know details about how the elevator operates, right?”
    Fournier looked at both of them for a moment and then must have decided caution was better than getting caught with his pants down.
    He said something in French, and the squad of policemen raised their weapons and surrounded the maintenance workers. The four men immediately dropped their equipment bags and put their hands up with shocked looks on their faces.
    “Can you interpret for me?” Tyler asked the minister. He took out his smartphone and tapped on the screen to bring up a web page with the Eiffel Tower’s schematics that he had researched the day before.
    He nodded. “What do you want to ask them?”
    “Just one question. What’s the capacity of the lift in kilograms?” It was a simple question that had a very specific and unguessable answer, but an elevator maintenance worker should have known the number without hesitation.
    The minister translated, and the lead worker paused at hearing the odd question. Fingers tightened on triggers.
    Then the man blurted out a response.
    The minister turned to Tyler. “He wants to know which lift. There are nine throughout the tower.”
    Tyler frowned. He was expecting bluster or even a made-up figure.
    “The lift in the east pillar that they are supposedly fixing,”