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Her thoughts were spinning with confusion. “I’m not ready to have this conversation with you, Noah. If anything, I need more distance.”

“What does that mean?”

“Putting you and the FBI in charge of my negotiations with Patrick’s kidnapper was a mistake. He’s even more at risk.”

Noah clearly didn’t like the change of direction. “Kate, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry. You’re out. I’m going private.”

She turned and started toward the Metro station.

“Kate!”

“Call me when I have clearance.”

She continued up the sidewalk, alone.

Chapter 46

It was springtime south of the equator, where October showers bring November flowers. The steady patter of raindrops on the poop deck woke Patrick just after dawn.

“Olga, you up?”

She was on her stomach, still lying at Patrick’s feet, where Javier had left her. At least he’d bandaged the knife wounds on her back before binding her wrists. The crimson dots on the floor had turned brown overnight.

“I never fell asleep,” she said.

“How do you feel?”

“Like a human pincushion.”

It almost came across as a bad joke, but Patrick realized it was her way of conveying in English that it still hurt.

She tried another position to get comfortable, still on her stomach but with her chin resting on her hands, using them like a pillow on the floor. “So who is this Kate on the phone?” she asked, looking up at Patrick. “Your girlfriend?”

“She’s actually my old babysitter.”

Olga started to laugh, but she was quickly reminded of her knife wounds. “Ow! Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry. But it’s true. She used to call me Baby Patrick.”

Olga couldn’t hold it in. “Ow, ow,owww! Stop it!”

“I’m not messing with you, I swear. But don’t worry. Kate really can help us. Her father runs the tech company I work for in Virginia. Buck Technologies.”

“Her father is Jeremy Peel?”

“No. But wait. You’ve heard of Jeremy Peel?”

“I have,” she said, blinking slowly. “I was a virgin when I met him.”

Patrick had no idea what to say. He hadn’t expected to find a reason to hate Peel more than he already did, but there it was.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Not your fault.”

“It is, sort of. I work for the man. One of his whiz kids. I build the toys that make him feel invincible, like he can have anything he wants. Anyonehe wants.”

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