"I've worked for you for six years. It's just bad luck that this job didn't pan out."

"I've no work for you to do."

"The Calder woman."

"She's not important any longer."

He sought wildly for another target. "Tanek. Rivil told me that Tanek's name is on a passenger list for a flight that came in to Paris today. I'll go after Tanek."

"I told you he isn't to be touched."

"You hate him. It doesn't make sense. Let me go after him."

"It makes perfect sense ... right now. He's protected." He smiled. "But his protection may be weakening even as we speak."

"I can wait. Just let me have the job."

"I'll consider it." Gardeaux walked to the door and opened it. "Give Braceau your address and wait for my call."

Or a visitor with a garrote, Maritz thought sourly. He moved toward the door. "I'll do that."

The door shut behind him with finality.

Gardeaux was through with him, and he was a dead man. Nothing could be clearer. But he wouldn't lie down and wait for it. He could still come out of this if he could get back in Gardeaux's good graces.

He would go into hiding, but there would be no call to Braceau.

He would be too busy trying to find a way to save himself.

"A call on the private line, Monsieur Gardeaux." Henri Braceau was smiling as he proffered the telephone. "Medellin."

Gardeaux took the phone. "Is it done?"

"Ten minutes ago."

"Any problem?"

"Smooth as glass."

Gardeaux replaced the receiver.

Braceau looked at him inquiringly.

"Call Rivil. Tell him to take care of that matter I discussed with him. Immediately."

"It was a nice funeral." Joel unlocked the door and flicked on the lights in the foyer. "I liked Phil's parents."

"No funeral is nice." Tania hobbled as quickly as she could into the house, averting her eyes from the snow-covered lawn. The yellow barricade was gone but not the memory of blood on the snow. "They are all terrible."

"You know what I meant," Joel said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be sharp with you." She limped over to the window. "Today was difficult."

"For me too. Sit down and rest. I'll make some coffee. We both need it."

She didn't sit down. She stood staring out at the snow where she had huddled and tried to escape Maritz's knife, where Phil had died....

"Here." Joel was back, handing her a cup. She must have been staring out the window longer than she had thought. She took the cup.

"You're pale as a tombstone," Joel said. "You shouldn't have gone. It was too much for you."

"He's still free," she whispered.

"He can't hurt you. They don't even think he's in the country."

"Nell isn't sure where he is. She says she may have to draw him to her."

"She should leave it to the police."

"Police can't stop people like him. He'll just keep killing and killing ..."

"He's not some supernatural demon, Tania. He's a man."

He had seemed like a demon to her. Joel didn't understand. But Nell did. She had faced the demon and knew its power.

She turned back to the window. "I hate him."

His hand pressed her shoulder. "Phil was a good man."

"Not only because he killed Phil. He made me afraid. I thought I'd been afraid before, but it wasn't like that." She shuddered. "I'm still afraid."

"Do you want to leave here? We'll sell the place and go away."

"And hide for the rest of my life? He'd like that. It would be a victory for him."

"Then what do you want to do?"

It seemed as if the winter chill outside had suddenly invaded the room. She crossed her arms across her chest to ward off the cold. "I don't know." She was silent a moment. "Nell isn't sure she can get Maritz to come to her."

He stiffened. "I don't like where this conversation is going."

"He'd come for me."

"No," he said flatly.

"With Nell it was a job, but he became 'involved' when he was stalking me. You should have seen his face when he realized he didn't have time to kill me before the security men got here. I've never seen an expression of such frustration." She smiled bitterly. "Oh, yes, he'd come for me."

Joel jerked her around to face him. "I said no."

"I don't like being afraid. As long as I fear him, he'll always be with me."

"Did you hear me? You're not going. I won't let you out of my sight."

"What if he disappears? I'll be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life." Her expression hardened. "He's not going to win, Joel. I won't let him win."

"For God's sake, this isn't a game."

"It was to him."

He jerked her close. "Shut up. I won't lose you. Do you hear me? You're not going anywhere."

She relaxed against him. That's right, Joel, keep me here. Keep away the cold. Keep me safe.

Don't let me go.

The house Jamie found for them was a small cottage on the coast. It was perched on a high cliff overlooking the Atlantic and a boulder-strewn shoreline.

"Does it bother you?" Nicholas asked her. "Jamie probably didn't think."

Jamie muttered an exclamation of surprise.

"It doesn't bother me." It was true; standing there on the windswept cliff didn't disturb her. It was completely different from the enclosed balcony at Medas. Maybe enough time had passed so that the pain was dulled. She turned and went into the cottage. Clean and cozy, it was decorated in an unpretentious style.

Jamie followed her. "I'm an idiot. Forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive. The cottage is very pleasant."

"Well, you'll have to enjoy the sea air by yourself for a few days. Nick and I have to go up to Paris."

She whirled to face him. "Why?"

"Pardeau, Gardeaux's accountant. Nick wants to see what we can do in that quarter."

You can never have too much insurance, Nicholas had said. "What about Maritz?"

"We'll tap a few sources while we're there," Nicholas said from the doorway. "You'll be safe here. No one can recognize you and Jamie was careful to make sure this location is secure. I've written the car phone number on the pad on the counter."

"Why can't I go with you?"

"For the same reason we moved here. I don't want you recognized. Once we start probing, Gardeaux will know I'm in Paris. If you're seen with me, he'll draw conclusions and the advantage is blown. Make sense?"

"Yes," she said slowly. "When will you be back?"

"In a day or two. Can I trust you to stay here?"

"What good would it do me to leave until I know where Maritz is?"

"Promise me."

"I'll stay here. Satisfied?"

He smiled crookedly. "Hell, no. I've forgotten what it is to be satisfied." He turned away. "Come on, Jamie, let's get going."

"Be careful," she said impulsively.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Concern? Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"No, but I never said I wanted you hurt."

"Then I'll have to be grateful for small favors."

She went to the door to watch them leave. The Volkswagen barreled down the winding two-lane road and was out of sight in minutes.

She was alone.

The solitude would be good for her, she told herself. It would give her time to think, to plan. She hadn't really been alone in months. Nicholas had been there, talking to her, teaching her, making love to her.... No, not love, sex. Love had never been mentioned between them.

But sometimes it had seemed like love.

Which was why it was good she had been jarred out of that relationship. She and Nicholas were different as night and day. He had made it clear what he wanted from her, and it was not commitment. There could be no future with a man like him.

Future?

For the first time she realized she was thinking beyond Maritz. Was that a sign she was beginning to heal?

Possibly. It was too soon to tell, but, if she was healing, she owed it as much to Nicholas as time itself.

He had lied to her, he had hurt her, he had healed her.

She was thinking too much about Nicholas. It was safer not to think of him at all.

Sixteen.

"Pardeau is scared to death," Jamie said as he got back in the car at 412 St. Germain. "He won't be easy."

"Money?" Nicholas asked. He started the car and drove toward the Seine.

"He's tempted, but he heard what happened to Simpson. He says that Gardeaux knows I've been in touch with him and he doesn't want me to come there anymore." He shook his head. "I thought I might have him the last time I talked to him, but something's changed. He's jumpy."

"Which means?"