“It’s not a big deal,” Kat tried.
“I’m sure it’s not.”
“There was a hitch.” Kat shrugged.
“There always is.” Gabrielle leaned closer and whispered, “Just tell me, does this hitch have a name?”
Kat started to answer, but just then her cousin’s eyes went wide, and Kat knew, without looking, that Hale was standing behind her. She felt his hands settle on her shoulders as he leaned over the seat.
“Hey.”
She looked up at him. “Hey.”
“You okay?” he asked, taking the seat beside her. He felt big and warm and safe and…terrifying. Yeah, terrifying was definitely the right word, because he leaned close to examine Gabrielle’s ankle, and all Kat could do was think, I kissed you. I kissed you. I kissed you!
“Kat?” Hale asked again.
“I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly.
Hale looked at Gabrielle, who crossed her arms, stared at her cousin, and said, “Okay. Now the real answer.”
“Nothing. It’s just that…” Kat shook her head and turned back to the window. “The world is big.”
In the reflection of the glass she saw Hale. He reminded her of her father, full of charm and hope. “Not so big, right?” he said. “There are…what? Six major families?”
“Seven,” Kat and Gabrielle answered together.
Hale pointed to one of Simon’s computers. “But this says six.”
“The Australians sort of split in the eighties.”
“Nasty business.” Gabrielle shivered. “Never get between two brothers and a sunken ship from the Spanish Armada. Trust me.”
“Okay, good.” Hale stood and strolled to where Simon sat with his computers. “Seven families. That’s a start. What else do we have?”
“Well,” Gabrielle said with a sigh, “we know she was smart enough to find Kat and play her—no offense.”
“None taken,” Kat said.
“And…” Gabrielle spoke slowly, emphasizing every word, “she’s a woman.”
“Very good, Gabrielle,” Hale tried to mock, but then he read the expression on Kat’s face. “What?”
“How many girls do you know in this business?” she asked him.
“Well…I know you two…” He trailed off, utterly stumped.
“Exactly. It’s a boys’ club, big guy.” Gabrielle crossed her good leg over the other as if to say she wouldn’t have it any other way. “There can’t be that many women who—”
Simon looked up from his keyboard. “According to Interpol, there are nine hundred and seventy-six.” He pointed to the images on the screen that were flashing through at regular intervals. “These are just the ones they have pictures for—which isn’t saying much. Most are just names—a lot are probably aliases. It would help if we had an age.”
“Fifty?” Hale guessed at the exact time Kat said, “Eighty?”
“Or a range…” Simon said, putting the data into the computer. “What about a nationality?”
“She used a British accent, but…” Hale started.
“She could be from anywhere,” Kat went on. “She could be on her way to anywhere. Let’s face it, guys” —Kat shook her head—“this woman could be anyone.”