Free Dancing in the Baron's Shadow by Fabienne Josaphat Page A

sandals and masks for sale, strung along fences around the parks. They pointed at monuments of mermaids and civic fountains, and when Raymond passed the casinos, the man pulled out a camera and snapped photos while his wife clutched her shopping bags on her lap.
    â€œ Très joli,” she said to Raymond, mimicking her husband’s bad French good-naturedly.
    As they sat in traffic near the parliament, she smiled under her large hat when Raymond pointed at pyramid-shaped structures rising from the ground. He smiled back. Raymond always used the same smile with the women tourists. It was both innocent and flirtatious—carefully calibrated to flatter without causing offense to either the woman or her male companion.
    â€œMusée du Panthéon National,” Raymond announced.
    â€œAh, museum?” the husband asked.
    Raymond nodded and braked gently, allowing them time to take a closer look and snap a photo. A sea of children in blue school uniforms flooded the steps, trailed by a handful of teachers, also in uniform. Raymond hoped that one day his kids would get to see the national treasures that the children of the rich took for granted. Right now, they were too young to make much of the museum. He still had to help them butter their bread and hold their hands when crossing the street. Suddenly, he was shaken with regret at not chauffeuring them to school this morning. Instead of letting them crawl in the old, peeling backseat of his car, Yvonne had insisted that she’d walk them over before work. “You have enough troubles as it is,” she’d whispered, glancing at theDatsun with a peculiar avoidance in her eyes. “You need to stay home and focus on getting your car fixed up.”
    Raymond had kissed the children good-bye and then paced his kitchen for an hour before deciding that he had no choice but to work.
    Two pedestrians hailed Raymond’s taxi and he let them in, grateful for the extra fare. One squeezed in next to the tourists, and the other sat in front next to Raymond.
    The Datsun passed the Palais National.
    â€œFaculté de Droit. Law school. My brother teaches there.”
    â€œI’m sorry?” the American man asked, incredulous. “He’s a lawyer?”
    â€œA lawyer?” The wife’s eyes bulged disbelievingly. The other passengers grinned at her surprise.
    â€œYes,” Raymond confirmed without elaboration. “A law professor.”
    The couple rode in silence for a little ways, digesting this news. The other passengers signaled their stop and paid Raymond before hopping out.
    â€œThat’s so interesting,” the wife said.
    In the corner of his eye, Raymond saw a blur, a dark shadow moving across his windshield. He braked just in time, his tires screeching against the curb. The black Jeep drove past slowly and he caught a glimpse of men in uniform, their eyes hidden behind sunglasses, their faces devoid of emotion, the barrels of their guns pointed always at the world. Raymond swallowed hard. He hadn’t seen the Macoutes. In fact, he’d nearly plowed into them.
    The Americans gasped. “There they are,” the man whispered knowingly. “Papa Doc’s enforcers. The Tonton Macoutes.”
    â€œOh my goodness!”
    The Macoutes scanned Raymond, their expressions glacial in the sunlight. Raymond nodded and waved in apology, seeing the submissive gesture reflected off their sunglasses.
    â€œIs it true they put rubber tires around you?” the husband asked. “Burn you alive?”
    â€œStop it, Bill,” the wife scolded.
    Raymond took a deep breath and cruised slowly across the intersection.
    â€œI don’t know,” he said.
    He had to maintain his composure. He couldn’t let fear take control of him. The husband started in with questions that made him increasingly nervous—not all Americans were innocent, he knew—and in his voice, Raymond thought he detected a note of