The Paris Vendetta Page 0,107

at least a size too small for his frame.

"This one is special," she said. "It must be done quickly."

"Define quickly."

"Today."

"I assume you have the information needed for a proper preparation."

"I'll lead you straight to the target."

Ambrosi wore a black turtleneck, a black-and-gray-tweed coat, and dark corduroy trousers that sharply contrasted with his pale complexion. She wondered what drove the grim man but realized that this was, most likely, a long story.

"Is there a preference as to the method?" he asked.

"Only that it be painful and slow."

His cool eyes were bereft of humor. "His betrayal must have been unexpected."

She appreciated his ability to peer into her thoughts. "To say the least."

"Your need for satisfaction is that great?"

"Beyond measure."

"Then we shall obtain a full absolution."

SAM DIALED HIS CELL PHONE. THE OTHER END OF THE LINE was answered quickly.

"What is it, Sam?" Stephanie said.

"I have Ashby."

He told her exactly what happened since leaving the Eiffel Tower.

"You weren't supposed to follow him," she made clear.

"And a plane wasn't supposed to fly into us, either."

"I appreciate your ingenuity. Stay where you are-"

Henrik relieved him of the phone. Clearly his friend wanted to speak with Stephanie Nelle, and he wanted to know why, so Sam stepped back and listened.

"IT'S GOOD TO KNOW THAT THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT IS DIRECTLY atop things," Thorvaldsen said.

"And it's good to talk to you, too, Henrik," Stephanie replied, in a tone that signaled she was ready for battle.

"You interfered in my business," he said.

"On the contrary. You interfered in ours."

"How is that possible? None of this concerns America."

"Don't be so sure. You're not the only one who's interested in Ashby."

His stomach went hollow. He'd suspected as much, hoping he was wrong. "He's valuable to you?"

"You realize I can neither confirm nor deny that."

He didn't require any admissions from her. What just happened at the Eiffel Tower explained everything. "It's not hard to imagine what's happening here."

"Let's just say that there's more at stake here than your revenge."

"Not to me."

"Would it do any good if I said I understand? That I'd do the same, if the roles were reversed?"

"You still interfered."

"We saved your life."

"You gave Ashby the book."

"Which was a good idea. It rocked him to sleep. Lucky for you, I might add, or you'd be dead right now."

He wasn't in the mood to be grateful. "Cotton betrayed me. I have not the time, at the moment, to deal with that disappointment. But I will."

"Cotton used his brain. You should, too, Henrik."

"My son is dead."

"I don't need a reminder."

"Apparently, you do." He paused, grabbed a breath, and steadied himself. "This is my affair, not yours, not Cotton's, not the U.S. government's."

"Henrik, listen to me. This is not about you. There's a terrorist involved here. A man named Peter Lyon. We've been trying to nail him for a decade. He's finally out in the open where we can see him. You have to let us finish this. But we need Ashby in order to do that."

"And when it's over? What of my son's murderer?"

The other end of the phone remained silent. Which told him what he already knew. "That's what I thought. Goodbye, Stephanie."

"What are you going to do?"

He switched off the phone and handed it to Sam. The younger man and Meagan Morrison had stood silent, watching him through concerned eyes.

"Will you betray me, too?" he asked Sam.

"No."

The answer came quick. Perhaps too quick. But this eager soul was anxious to prove himself.

"Something's happening," Meagan said.

He turned and focused across the boulevard at the hotel.

Ashby appeared out front and spoke to the doorman, who quickly motioned for a cab. Thorvaldsen turned away and faced the buildings behind them. His face might be seen.

"He's in the cab," Sam said.

"Flag us one, too."

SIXTY-THREE

ASHBY STEPPED OFF THE DOCK AT PONT DE L'ALMA AND ONTO the tour boat. Off to the east a carillon of bells pealed for three PM. He'd never toured the Seine by boat, though he assumed the cruises were quite popular. Today only about twenty strangers filled the seats under a sooty Plexiglas canopy, the boat not quite half full. He wondered why Peter Lyon insisted on meeting in such tacky surroundings. The call had come an hour ago, a gruff voice instructing him on the time and place. He'd told Caroline to keep working on what she'd discovered and that he'd return shortly. He'd debated ignoring Lyon's summons, but knew better. Besides, Lyon had been the one who failed, not him. And there was the matter of the fee already paid, and