Page 30 of Wired Strong

“Works remarkably well.” Sophie blew her nose with dignity.

Raveaux felt the familiar stab of grief again—but it was softer now, its edge blunted by the shiny, full feeling she’d given him with her trust. “I bet you worry, some days, that five minutes won’t be enough. I think that’s why I never wanted to cry. I was sure I’d lose myself if I did.”

“Yes. On those days I promise myself a second session, late in the night, if I need it. I’ve seldom needed it.”

“You’ve already answered your question.”

“What one was that?” She was smiling too.

“How you go on.”

Sophie shook her head. “I know that old cliché. One minute at a time, one day at a time, etcetera. In my case, five minutes at a time.” She turned back to the computers. “We didn’t get to the part of the meeting where Leede told us what we were looking for on these rigs.”

Sophie seemed to be fading into drowsiness before his eyes, her shoulders rounding, her eyes half-lidded.

“You look like you need a nap, Sophie. Why don’t you go upstairs and use the couch Paula mentioned? Get a few hours rest. I’ll deliver the original computers back to Kama`aina Schools’ staff and to Peerless, then come back here, and poke around on the one you set up for us. You can come down when you’re rested.”

“Excellent idea.” Sophie yawned. “What I could use are keywords related to the case. Names, dates, places, specific accounts used by the Kama`aina people. Anything I can set my program to searching for.” She stood up and stretched. “I think I’ll take you up on your excellent suggestion and get a nap.”

“You’ll have to tell me about this program.”

“Oh, I will.” Sophie yawned again. “But it’s a bit of a long story.” She headed for the door, weaving on her feet with exhaustion.

Raveaux restrained himself from supporting her, following to close the workroom door behind her. She got on the nearby elevator.

“Rest well, Sophie,” he said. She nodded as she leaned against the elevator’s wall, her eyes closed. The doors shut, taking her from him.

Raveaux turned and took the stairs to the SUV parked in the alley outside, missing her already.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Marcella

Marcella satin the FBI’s conference room with Waxman, Gundersohn, and Pillman. The large monitor used for distance meetings had been raised up out of its slot in the table. The triangular table mic was on, and they could see small panels framing Kate Smith from the Secret Service, MacDonald and Karl Beckett from the CIA, and Stefan Voise, Interpol.

Everyone but the FBI group had been ordered back to their posts in order to work more productive cases, and today they were tuning in from London, Hong Kong, Thailand, and Smith from Washington, DC.

Pillman opened with his opinion. “The subjects have all gone to ground. Until we find a way to pry those three out of that compound in Thailand, this case is closed.”

Marcella raised a finger. “What if we were to turn Connor to do our work for us with the Master and Pim Wat? I would like to propose that I look into seeing if Sophie Smithson will re-engage with him, and whether or not he is willing to trade one or both of them for immunity.”

“Why would he possibly do that?” Beckett asked, impatience clear in his tone.

“Because Connor loves Sophie,” Marcella said simply. “And Sophie is vulnerable and alone. His competition for her affections is dead. Maybe he still wants a chance with her.”

“I saw the two of them together when I was trying to recruit Sophie as a CIA asset,” MacDonald said. “The dude definitely has a thing for her.”

“From what Frank says, Sophie still harbors a great deal of affection for Connor, too,” Smith said. The Secret Service agent’s dark blue eyes sharpened on Marcella. “But I thought you said your agenda was keeping Connor out of your friend’s life.”

Marcella felt hot, and unbuttoned her collar. “Thatismy agenda. But let’s grab whoever Connor helps us get, then nail him, too. That man has no moral compass, and it’s going to get Sophie hurt someday.”

Waxman chimed in. “This idea has legs.”

“Do we have any other ideas? Any contacts within the compound?” Stefan Voise’s frown didn’t sit well on his good-natured face.

MacDonald scratched his beefy, whiskered jowls, making a rasping sound. “Everyone in Thailand is afraid of the Yam Khûmk?n. I do have a source inside the compound. So far, he will provide only passive observation information, and I can’t get leverage for more at this point—I’ve tried. He reported that there was a dissident contingent within the compound recently, and the entire faction was executed by sword. Their heads were displayed on pikes before the men for a week.” Silence fell upon the group at his words. “We don’t have an incentive powerful enough for anyone in that compound to betray the Master.”

“That’s medieval,” Smith said. “It’s bizarre to hear of something like that in the twenty-first century.”

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