As instantly as the aim was achieved - a matter of one second, not two - Arnaud squeezed off two rounds. Chapman had no time to react to the new threat. He was struck in the chest and spun viciously counter-clockwise by the impact. He was fighting to breathe while Arnaud hurried Monsieur Fitzroy, unhurt, into the car and sped away.
Chapman was writhing in pain, helpless on the ground when several staff emerged from the Brasserie. It was all he could do to manage to conceal his Ruger once more in its holster. Two men stopped to assist Tristan and two more walked the distance to Chapman.
"I was attacked! That man," he pointed to Tristan, "That man," he repeated for emphasis, "saved my life!" Chapman knew the staff would recognize Tristan as Fitzroy's trusted bodyguard. He was trying to concoct a plausible story on the fly. So far, so good, he thought.
"Monsieur Fitzroy's homme est mort! Sacré bleu!"cried one of the staff.
So far, so good, thought Chapman again. "Take me to…" Chapman paused and reconsidered. "Pardon! Prends-moi à un hôpital, s'il vous plaît"
"Hôpital Hôtel-Dieu est étroit, Monsieur."
Chapman understood that the man was telling him that the hospital was close. More importantly Chapman was recovering his breath and his senses. He might have a fractured rib - the tenth? - but he thought the vest had protected him from a penetrating wound. The next concern was the police. He was sure that a phone call from Monsieur Jean-Pierre Fitzroy would have them mobilized and on their way. Time was of the essence.
"Oui. Bon. Merci. Mais rapidement, s'il vous plaît" Chapman was again out of options and dependent on the tender mercies of the French. He tried to rise and was helped by the Frenchman. He thought, the man doesn't know the first thing about casualty triage or he would never allow a person to be moved. About that time another of the staff pulled up in an old Citroën. And he was off.
On the adjacent island in the middle of the River Seine, a nun assisted as Chapman was transferred to a wheelchair. She rolled him toward the emergency entrance of Hôpital Hôtel-Dieu as the young man from the restaurant pulled away. He surprised her by stepping out of the chair near the taxi-stand and announcing that he was feeling much better now, thank you. He placated her objections with a gold coin: "For charity," he insisted.
"Merci, Monsieur."
"Vous êtes bienvenu, Souer."
