Scathach shrugged. “I have no idea,” she said dismissively. “I cannot, and before you ask, I’ve never heard of any Next Generation who was able to see them either.” The young-looking woman settled a black backpack onto her shoulders, then pulled a wide black bandana down over her forehead, completely concealing all traces of her red hair. Her matching short swords were wrapped up in a rolled blanket tied across the top of the backpack. “So what do we do?”

The count looked at his watch. “This gate will activate at precisely one-forty-nine p.m., which is solar noon over Paris-that’s the time the sun is at its zenith.”

“I know what solar noon means,” Scatty muttered.

“Walk straight up to Point Zero and stand there. Set into the cobblestones you will find a circle surrounding a miniature sunburst. The circle is divided into two parts. Make sure both of you have one foot in each section. I’ll do the rest,” Saint-Germain said. “Once the gate is active, I can send you on your way.”

“And the gendarmes?” Joan asked, pulling on a matching backpack. She carried her sword in a thick tube that had once held a camera tripod.

“I’ll take care of them, too.” Francis grinned, revealing his crooked teeth. “Stay in the car until you see the police talking to me, then move. And no matter what happens, don’t stop until you reach Point Zero. Then wait.”

“What then?” Scatty demanded. She hated using leygates. They always made her feel seasick.

The count shrugged. “Well, if everything goes according to plan, you will instantaneously arrive on the West Coast of America.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Scatty asked in alarm as Saint-Germain climbed out of the car. “What happens if it doesn’t go as planned: where do we end up then?”

“Who knows?” Francis threw up his hands. “The gates are solar-or lunar-powered, depending on the direction they run. I suppose there is always the possibility that if something went wrong, you could emerge in the heart of the sun or on the dark side of the moon. This line runs east to west, so it is a sun line,” he added, then smiled. “You’ll be fine. He drew Joan into his arms, held her tight, then kissed her lightly on both cheeks and whispered in her ear. Then he twisted around in the seat to look at the Warrior Maid. “Stay safe. Get Perenelle off the island and contact me. I’ll come and get you.” The count climbed out of the car, shoved both hands in the pockets of his long black leather coat and sauntered over to the nearest gendarme.

Joan turned to look at her friend. “You’ve got that look about you,” she said.

“What look?” Scatty asked innocently, green eyes glittering.