Heather smiled tentatively when she spotted Chase through the crowd, but her upbeat demeanor evaporated when she saw Dario there as well. "What's going on?" she asked once she'd joined them.

"I'll explain later," Chase said, "but we need him about as much as we need to get away from here." Heather's face puckered in disgust. "I don't want him anywhere near me."

Dario snickered. "I can a.s.sure you, you are not exactly my company of choice, either."

"Heather, please." She glanced around, skimming the faces of those near them. They were far too exposed. "We need him and we need to go."

"Have you arrested him?"

"No. He's our ticket to Rozsa."

"Arrested me?" Dario looked shocked. "You're with the feds?"

"No such luck for you." Chase smiled and turned back to Heather. "We need him to find out where Rozsa is." She grabbed the handles of Dario's wheelchair and pushed him inside, with Heather following, and they hurried to the area dedicated to private business jets and charter aircraft. Once she'd handed over the necessary permits and paperwork-some of it Dario's and some provided by the EOO-Chase received a cleared departure slot for a half hour later, and the three of them rode to Dario's plane in an airport shuttle that resembled a golf cart.

One burly airport worker was busily refueling the jet, while another, clipboard in hand, waited for her to hand over her paperwork for a final perusal. Once she'd given him the doc.u.ments, she dropped the staircase, then approached the two men. "English?" she asked, and the one with the clipboard nodded. "Lift him in," she * 289 *

said, handing the man several yuan bills. He took Dario inside while the other got his wheelchair and their bags.

"I suspect you're responsible for my freedom," Heather said as they both waited for the workers to get Dario settled.

"Are you all right?" Chase avoided eye contact, not sure she could face Heather after what had happened between them.

"They didn't hurt me, if that's what you mean." She could feel Heather staring at her.

"But I was pretty d.a.m.n scared I was about to become someone's next donor," Heather continued. "G.o.d, I just want to go home and forget all about this...abysmal experience."

"About that," she said softly. "I can't let you go back to the US yet.""What do you mean?"

"Dario isn't the forgiving type."

"But I take it you made a deal with him."

"Do you think he'll care about our agreement after I let him go?""Let him go?" Heather sounded furious at the prospect, but Chase still couldn't meet her eyes.

"I can't just kill him," she said. "He's not part of my a.s.signment."

"He's a criminal."

"He is, but I wasn't hired to go after him."

"Can't you have him arrested?"

"Again, he's not my problem."

"He became your problem when you involved me."

"I'm getting you out safe and sound, right?"

"Out, yes," Heather snapped. "But not safe and sound. Not when I can't even go back to my own country. And what's going to stop him from coming after me when you're done with him?"

"We're going to relocate you, with the help of the feds."

"Are you serious?" Heather shouted. "My life isn't for you to play with or decide what happens to me. I came here to help you, not for a life makeover. Did you conveniently forget to tell me all this before you scammed me into helping you?"

* 290 *

"I understand this is all too much to take in right now," Chase said, "but I didn't set out to destroy your life. If things had gone according to plan, if Dario had never found the wire, everything would have worked out differently."

"But I suppose you forgot to inform me about that particular scenario. So, instead, I get a, 'Oh, oops, Heather...things didn't go according to plan. It's too bad, but we're going to change your life now.'" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Heather run her hand through her hair in exasperation. "I have a sick brother, or did you forget about that, too?"

"Of course not. We'll make arrangements for him to come with you," she said quietly, hoping to calm her down.

"That's just....just..."

The two airport workers emerged from the jet, interrupting their conversation. The one with her paperwork nodded at Chase as he returned the doc.u.ments. "Takeoff in twenty-one minutes," he warned her sternly, as though there might be repercussions if she wasn't ready to depart precisely on time. "I still have to check the c.o.c.kpit." She nodded her approval and he went back inside. Heather stared at the jet like it was a one-way transport to h.e.l.l. "You have to get in, Heather," she said gently. "Please. It's for your own safety."

"f.u.c.k." Heather hesitated another several seconds, but finally headed toward the narrow stairway with Chase beside her. Chase extended her hand to help her aboard.

"Don't touch me." Heather's icy tone and rigid body language spoke volumes about her state of mind, and if looks could kill, Chase would already be six feet under. It hurt to see Heather so angry with her, but this whole d.a.m.n situation was beyond her control.

Yet again, her job was defining her personal decisions, actions, and reactions, and silently demanding her to do whatever was necessary.

She wanted only to take Heather the h.e.l.l away from this mess, but, like Landor, all she could do was protect her from the danger she herself had put her in.

Chase followed her into the plane and asked both Heather and Dario to buckle up as she walked past them up the aisle toward the c.o.c.kpit.

* 291 *

The airport worker was just coming out with his clipboard.

"You're ready for takeoff," he told her.

"Thanks. I'm good to go."

As she followed him out, Heather and Dario simultaneously blurted out, "What?"

She turned to look at them as she closed and secured the door.

Heather looked dumbfounded. "You're going to fly this?" Dario sat rubbing his thighs with his eyes shut, as though willing his legs to work long enough for him to jump off the jet.

"Relax, I've done this before. Once." She smiled. She hoped Heather would realize she was joking to break the ice, but when Heather started to unbuckle, Chase went to her and stooped to stop her hands "I used to do this for a living in the military," she whispered. "Tru...I know what I'm doing." Heather looked at her dubiously for a few seconds, but finally relaxed back in her seat.

Once she was satisfied Heather wasn't going anywhere, she went back to Dario and withdrew a set of handcuffs from her jacket.

"Is that necessary?" he asked. "Do you think I'm going to jump?"

Heather answered before she had a chance to. "I think it's necessary."

Chase secured Dario's wrist to his armrest. "You heard the lady." She rose and headed toward the c.o.c.kpit. "First stop, a US military base in j.a.pan to change aircraft. Then on to France."

"I wish to avoid any involvement with the military." Dario still looked and sounded sh.e.l.l-shocked about her piloting the plane.

She shrugged. "And I wish you didn't exist. If only wishes made a difference."

* 292 *

ChaPter thirty-one.

Off the coast of France Ca.s.sady groaned as she came awake, her jaw aching from Rozsa's beating when she'd tried to free herself in the bathtub of the hotel. The intervening hours or days-she wasn't sure how much time had elapsed-were a blur. He'd drugged her so heavily she had only rare and brief semi-lucid moments, but whatever he'd given her seemed to be finally wearing off enough for her to ascertain her current situation.

She was on a small motorboat of some kind, and they were at sea. The porthole near her head gave her a view of endless blue, and nothing else. She was lying on a cot in the sleeping compartment, hog-tied so tight her hands were numb. Her mouth was sandpaper, so dry she couldn't swallow, and after so many days without adequate nourishment, she was too weak to free herself. Not that she had any useful resources to help her-he'd stripped the room of everything but the bed and a blanket.

The urge to despair was strong. He'd won. She could no longer hope for any chance of escape, and if he continued to deprive her of food and water, she'd be dead in a few days at most. Thinking of Jack was her only comfort. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I tried. I did everything I could to get back to you. She closed her eyes and tried to block out everything but images of their happy times together.

* 293 *

Some minutes elapsed before a sound broke her from her reverie-kitchen noises, from close by. Rozsa was fiddling with pots and pans; the galley must be right outside the small door to the sleeping compartment. A short time later, he entered, holding a bowl and a gla.s.s of water, and though he tried to keep his face neutral, she detected a hint of relief in his eyes.

"Please," she croaked through parched lips. "I can't feel my hands."

She'd grown so accustomed to his stoic silences and indifference to her suffering she didn't expect him to answer, but he surprised her.

"I'll untie you for ten minutes, but if you make any further trouble, I'll toss you overboard with an anchor and be done with you. In a few hours, I'll likely have no further use for you, anyway." His cryptic warning sent chills through her. "What does that mean?"

"Your people are apparently unable to meet my demands, but I may not need them after all," he said as he untied her. "Enjoy your meal. It's probably your last."

Sainte-Maxime, France 6 p.m.

"You never answered me," Jack said, her heart hammering with antic.i.p.ation. "How do you know me?"

"I promised to never contact you," Celeste replied. "I wanted to, but...he made me promise."

"Who made you promise what?"

"Your father."

"My father? You know my father?"

"I do."

"How? And why would you contact me in the first place?"

"Look at me, Jaclyn," Celeste said quietly.

Jack couldn't get past their resemblance, but was that what this woman was referring to?

* 294 *

"What do you see?"

"A woman who looks a lot like me. So what?" Unnerved by the conversation, she tried to sound flippant.

"That is because you are mine."

Jack opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

"You are my daughter, Jaclyn."

Jack got up and paced. How was this possible? She was here to find Ca.s.s but instead found a stranger who looked freakishly like her and claimed to be her mother. This was all too weird to be true.

She knew she'd been born in France, but that was all. Ops were told only their country of origin and that they'd been selected from orphanages because of their intelligence and other extraordinary abilities. As far as she knew, none had ever run into their biological parents. Why was this happening to her? What kind of joke was life playing on her this time? She raked her hand through her hair as she continued to pace, then finally stopped and turned to face the woman. "How are you sure?"

Celeste got up. "Please, wait for me here. I want to show you something." She paused in the doorway leading toward the rear of the house as if to make sure Jack wouldn't leave. "I will be right back."Her head felt as though it would burst. It was all too much to grasp. Could this woman really be her mother? She kept pacing, this time more keenly attuned to her surroundings, curious about the stranger who had her face. The house was even smaller than it appeared from outside, but clean and orderly and warm. Homey, with crocheted afghans and embroidered pillows on the antique couch and matching armchairs, and local watercolors on the walls.

She stopped to look at a photo on the fireplace mantel. Celeste, at a much younger age, probably in her twenties. The resemblance was uncanny. Celeste's smile was forced and her eyes were worried, which made her look even more like Jack.

"It was shot shortly after you were taken away from me," Celeste said from behind her. "Please, come sit next to me." She turned and found Celeste on the couch with a s...o...b..x on her lap. She hesitated, not sure she wanted to see what Celeste * 295 *

wanted to show her, but after several seconds succ.u.mbed to her curiosity. "Who took me away?" she asked as she took a seat beside the woman.

"Your father."

"Why?"

"I didn't have the means or...lifestyle...to support you back then, so I had to tell him about your existence when I called him to ask for help."

"He didn't know he'd fathered a child?"

"No. I never told him I was pregnant, or anything about you at all until three years later, when I realized I couldn't...support you."

"So you weren't married to him."

"He was an officer in the American army. When I told him about you, he travelled here immediately. He refused to leave without you after he saw you. I wanted to keep you, Jaclyn, but I was afraid my lifestyle would affect you."

"Hold on a minute. Where did you meet him? Was he a tourist here?"

Celeste shook her head. "He was in France for six months for his work. A tall, handsome man. Always so gentle and charming." Her expression became wistful, almost sweetly melancholic. "A true gentleman, the type of man I wasn't used to back then. Even after the six months were over, he used to come back to visit me.