Page 12 of Wired Target

Sophie pressed down on the accelerator as she pulled out of the downtown parking lot.

No matter how hard they tried to build a case, the team might not be able to punish these killers in any conventional way, and that didn’t sit well with Sophie.

7

Day 3

Pierre Raveaux rolled his least heavy trousers tightly, smoothing them so they wouldn’t wrinkle, and tucked them into the lightweight carry-on bag he used for international travel.Checking a bag was fraught with the risk of missing luggage, and he didn’t want to take that chance, especially heading for an unknown place like Indonesia.

His adolescent kitten, Lisette, pounced on the carry-on from behind the pillow on the bed.She lashed her striped, gray tail, her paws splayed, and butt raised; her antics startled a laugh out of Pierre.

The unusual sound bounced off the walls of his room.He needed to put up some artwork or get a rug or two—at least fill the space.Minimalism was fine, but the room contained only the bed and a chest of drawers.“But does it matter, Lisette, when it’s only you and I to see it?”

Lisette took the opportunity to leap onto him, hooking her claws into the cotton twill of his trousers.The neighbor boy would be coming over daily to feed and play with her, but she seemed to know he was going away.

“Non!”He extracted the kitten by the scruff, then cuddled her in the crook of his arm, stroking her pale belly.Lisette relaxed abruptly in the way of the young, purring extravagantly, all four white paws in the air as he petted her soft fur.“You can tell I’m leaving, can’t you?”

Grief surged over him in a wave.

Pierre hadn’t always been alone with only a cat for company and a bare apartment.Once, he’d had a busy life filled with friends and a beautiful, colorful home decorated by his artistically talented wife, and best of all, a little girl named Lucie who yelled, “Papa, don’t go!”as she’d wrap her arms around his legs.

Pierre closed his eyes.Bittersweet agony rolled through him, and his breath hitched painfully.A tear hit Lisette’s belly.The kitten opened her yellow eyes, startled, and batted at his hand.He set her down, and she scampered off.

Pierre dashed the moisture off his face; it had been a while since he’d shed an actual tear.Almost seven years after Gita and Lucie’s deaths, he now welcomed these moments.They would always deserve his tears, whenever they came.

He continued his packing, but paused as his phone, lying beside the bag, chimed with an incoming message from Connor.

He sat down on the bed and picked up the device.Travel information filled the screen: the time and location of the private jet he’d be taking to the island of Bali’s capital city, Denpasar.“You’ll be working with the same two operatives as last time; they will meet you at the airport and take you to the Yam Khûmk?n safe house there.A computer setup awaits; information regarding the assignment will be sent you via encrypted e-mail.Please confirm.”

“Copy that,”Pierre texted back.“Will check in when I arrive.”

He waited a couple of beats, but no further communication came through.

The Master of the Yam Khûmk?n was no longer making any effort to be friendly, and why should he?Pierre got to see the man’s girlfriend and her children daily; he was a rival for their affections, if nothing more.

Yes, Pierre had lost everything and everyone who mattered years ago, but he had a new family to enjoy for as long as that lasted.He was grateful for that, even if his hopes for a romance with Sophie had been dashed.

His phone chimed again; this time it was Hermoine Leede, the petite forensic accountant he had struck up a friendship with on one of his previous cases.“Got dinner plans?I just found the best little Asian fusion restaurant I’ve been wanting to try.Was hoping for company.”

Why not?He’d told Sophie he was going out with Heri Leede.Might as well give that some truth.“Excellent.Where and when?”

It would be good to get out of the empty apartment, and as Heri liked to say in her crisp British accent, “A body’s got to eat.”

Heri Leede was a woman of many talents; one of them was changing her appearance to project a different look whenever she chose to.Raveaux had seen Heri dress as if she wasn’t a day under sixty—and other times, even with naturally white hair, she looked no older than he was.

Tonight, in a pair of skinny black jeans and a fuchsia pink cotton twin set, the four-foot eleven former Scotland Yard investigator appeared even younger.Her smile was wide as she reached up for a hug.“Pierre!It’s been too long.”

“Agreed.”He held Heri by the shoulders, enjoying the way her bright blue eyes sparkled at him from behind rhinestone edged eyeglasses.“You’re adorable.”

“Why, thank you,” Heri beamed.“And you’re as tasty as a crumpet at teatime, per usual.Let’s get caught up.”She slid an arm through his and tugged him toward the tasteful entrance of the restaurant.“What have you been up to?”

“The usual, plus a bit of international travel.”Pierre pushed open the door and led her inside.“Recently got back from abroad, and about to fly to Indonesia.”

“Oh!How lovely!You must tell me all about it.”

Soon they were seated in a booth lit by a sculptural paper lantern mounted on the wall and a small, softly glowing orb on the shiny onyx table.They ordered after a few minutes of chit-chat, and the waitstaff brought them warm cups of miso soup and a pot of green tea to begin their meal.Raveaux was suddenly famished.

Heri reached across the table to grasp his hands in her tiny, beringed ones.“What takes you to Indonesia?”

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