has had this museum under watch for over a month." She hesitated. "With no problem."
"The girl in the blue smock started it."
"I learned on the flight over that Eliza Larocque has been investigating the GreedWatch website. I assume that's what those two were doing following your man, Foddrell."
"Where's Sam?"
"He's been taken. I watched it happen on the security cameras."
"Police?"
She shook her head. "The girl in the blue smock."
"You think you should have helped him."
"It's not a problem."
He knew Stephanie well. They'd worked together a long time. He'd been one of the original twelve lawyer-agents at the Magellan Billet, personally hired by her. So his next question was easy, "You know all about her, don't you?"
"Not exactly. I had no idea what she was going to do, but I'm damn glad she did it."
THIRTY-TWO
SAM HAD BEEN LED FROM THE MUSEUM'S TOP FLOOR, DOWN THE same stairway he'd initially climbed, to the ground. There he and the woman had descended another stairway into the closed frigidarium, where Jimmy Foddrell waited. Together they'd all passed through a stone archway, barred by an iron gate that the woman opened with a key.
He was a little unnerved by the gun. Never had one been pointed directly at him, so close, so direct, the threat of harm so immediate. Still, he sensed that he wasn't in danger. Instead, he may well be on the right trail.
He decided to follow it. He wanted to be a field agent. So, he told himself, be one. Improvise. That's what Malone would do.
Foddrell relocked the gate behind them.
Walls scabbed of brick and stone rose fifty feet around him. Light trickled in from windows high up, near a vaulted ceiling, the space chilly, with the look and feel of a dungeon. Some repair work was ongoing, as scaffolding had been erected against one of the rough-hewn walls.
"You can go or stay," the woman said to him. "But I really need you to stay."
"Who are you?"
"Meagan Morrison. GreedWatch is my website."
"Not his?" he asked, pointing at Foddrell.
She shook her head. "All mine."
"What's he doing here?"
She seemed to be deciding what-and how much-to say. "I wanted you to see that I'm not crazy. That there are people after me. They've been watching me for weeks. Michael works with me on the site. I made up the Foddrell name and used him as a decoy."
"So you led me and Malone here?" he asked the man she'd called Michael.
"It was pretty easy, actually."
Yes, it was.
"I work here, at the museum," she said. "When you emailed and said you wanted to meet, I was glad. Those two guys who were shot have been following Michael for two weeks. If I'd told you that, you wouldn't have believed me. So I showed you. There are some other men who also come nearly every day and check on me, but they think I don't notice."
"I have people who can help."
Her eyes flashed with anger. "I don't want people. In fact, it's probably some of your people doing that other watching. FBI. Secret Service. Who knows? I want to deal with you." She paused. "You and I"-the anger had dropped form her voice-"see eye-to-eye."
He was transfixed by her earnestness, along with the attractive, wounded look on her face. But he had to say, "People were shot in there. One of the guards was hurt bad."
"And I hate that, but I didn't start this."
"Actually, you did. Yelling at those two guys."
She was petite, full-bosomed, slender-waisted, and feisty. Her fiery blue eyes sparkled with an almost fiendish delight-commanding and confident. He was actually the tense one, his palms moist, and he desperately didn't want to show his anxiety. So he assumed a casual pose and weighed his options.
"Sam," she said, her voice softer. "I need to talk with you. Privately. Those guys have been on Michael's trail. Not mine. The others, the Americans who watch me, we just avoided them by getting out of there."
"Are they the ones who shot those two?"
She shrugged. "Who else?"
"I want to know who sent those two we followed here. Who do they work for?"
She stared back with an expression of undisguised boldness. He felt himself being appraised. Part of him was repelled, another part hoped she was at least somewhat impressed.
"Come with me, and I'll show you."
MALONE LISTENED AS STEPHANIE EXPLAINED ABOUT GREEDWATCH.
"It's run by the woman who started this melee. Meagan Morrison. She's an American, educated here, at the Sorbonne, in economics. She set you up sending the other young man-Foddrell. That's a pseudonym