No, much better to leave early and go downtown to theCommissariatand speak with theCommissairehimself.
Having a plan calmed him down a little, until he heard footsteps coming down the hallway.
No one came to his office in the early afternoon. Were they coming forhim?He stood, terrified, listening as the steps came closer, closer. Two sets, two men.
The information! He had to get it out!
His eyes fell on the list of files to be sent out for translation. Perfect. Simonet knew his way around computers and he knew steganography. Inside of five seconds he managed to hide the necessary information in a file. He pressed ENTER and turned at the sound of his door opening.
Two men, one small and armed, the other huge and un-armed, burst into the room. The big one stepped forward and with a contemptuous twist of his big hands, snapped Simonet’s neck.
The big man opened his hands and Simonet’s lifeless body collapsed to the floor. Simonet’s last thought had been of the thousands, perhaps millions, of Americans he had saved from attacks he hoped he had stopped.
THREE
San Diego
Nicole heldup the eight-year-old Dior and the seven-year-old Narciso Rodriguez, one a flattering periwinkle blue, one a chic black. Blue, black, blue…she couldn’t decide.
It was a very good thing that she hadn’t lost or gained weight over the past few years because there was no way she could now afford a new Dior or a new Rodriguez. Caring for her father ate up every spare dollar and then some.
That was okay. She didn’t miss her heady days in Geneva—young, single and rich. She’d had those years, enjoyed them, and now they were over.
She was a little less young now, still single and far from rich. Her life had changed beyond recognition. But she didn’t mind. It was worth scrambling to be able to take care of her father.
Black, blue, black…
It wasn’t like her to be so indecisive. Andlate. When was the last time she’d been late for anything, let alone a date? No, not a date—an appointment. An agreement. Dinner-out-as-thank-you-for-unlocking-her-door. Whatever—just not a date.
And yet here she was, dithering about what she was going to wear, argh!
This was so crazy. What was she doing, going out with a man she didn’t know? Had only exchanged a few words with? Would have crossed the street to avoid only yesterday?
It had never even occurred to her that the lowlife she’d seen walking into and out of Reston Security might actually be the owner of the company. Clearly, security-company executives didn’t need to dress for success. Every time she’d seen the man in the corridor he looked like he was coming off a drunk—incredibly scruffy, pissed off and none too clean.
As soon as she got off the phone with the hedge fund manager and her Russian experts, having happily negotiated an excellent contract, she’d checked out the website for Reston Security and had read the bio for Sam Reston. It was a long one. He was ex-military, a former SEAL, in fact. She remembered he said he’d been in the Navy. Well, that was modest of him. Being a SEAL was a little bit more than having spent some time in the Navy. SEALs were elite soldiers who underwent a gruelling selection process. As a soldier, Sam Reston had been the best of the best.
He didn’t list his medals but there they were on his chest in the formal military photograph, for those who knew how to read them. Nicole was familiar with Special Forces. It was quite likely there were other medals in a shadowbox he would take to the grave with him for missions no one would ever know about, secret to the end of time.
He didn’t have the Marine high-and-tight she was so familiar with from Embassies around the world, but his hair in the picture was definitely military-short and he was clean shaven.
The grim expression was the same, though. She’d been right. Take away the military trappings and he still looked like one dangerous dude. The kind of man she ordinarily wouldn’t speak to, let alone spend an evening with.
But she’d given her word and that was that.
Still, it looked like there was much more to Sam Reston than met the eye. The medals, for one.
Nicole’s father had always drummed into her enormous respect for the US Armed Forces. Her father had served in places where often the US military was the only thing that stood between civilization and the abyss.
The medals on Sam Reston’s very broad chest weren’t there for showing up on time or keeping his shoes and brightwork shined. They were medals of valor, for bravery under fire.
She’d swallowed heavily as she perused his website, letting the facts filter in, changing perceptions.
He’d been a very successful soldier and he was now a highly successful businessman.
Not an angry drunk, after all.
So she had to peel a layer of fear off the strong reactions she’d had to him every time their paths crossed in the Morrison Building’s hallway, which had been often. Sometimes she’d wondered if he had some kind of radar. More often than not, when she’d turned around from locking up her office door, there he had been, behind her, just closing the door of the company he worked for.Hiscompany, she now had to remember. He seemed to have been just behind her or just in front of her every single time she moved from the building. And every single time, her entire body had gone haywire.
