The train pulled into the Reims.
Moreau stepped down with a crate cradled carefully between his arms.
The box was plain but weighty, reinforced at the corners with brass latches and labeled in pencil.
"PAP Prototype. Experimental."
De Gaulle stood waiting on the platform, trench coat buttoned high, eyes scanning the station.
"You didn't tell me you were bringing home toys," he said dryly.
"I wasn't sure I'd come back with anything worth showing," Moreau answered.
De Gaulle raised an eyebrow. "And did you?"
Moreau looked down at the box. "We'll find out."
Back at the base, word spread fast but not fast enough to cause noise.
A group of hand-picked soldiers four tank crewmen, three sappers, and two recon NCOs assembled behind the storage depot where Moreau stood with Chauvet and Gualle and a clipboard.
"This is not a sanctioned field weapon," Moreau began. "You won't find it in any manual. No brass has blessed it. And if you drop it, I may bury you with it."
