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A waiter in black shorts and white shirt approached. “May I serve you anything from the bar?”
“We’d like to order lunch,” John said, his French perfect.
“Of course, sir.”
He ordered puff pastries filled with chicken in cream sauce for appetizers, potato soup, and a cheese and fruit tray afterward. Thankful she wouldn’t be expected to choke down a full meal, including a meat course, Niema looked around at the beautifully landscaped courtyard. It was becoming more crowded now as others elected to have their lunch by the pool rather than inside. The murmur of conversation, punctuated by splashes, laughter, and the clink of silverware, made it reasonable that they would lean together over the small round table.
John adjusted the umbrella shading them to protect her from the sun, and also to partially block anyone’s view of them from the house. Before he sat down he plucked his shirt from the chaise beside him and pulled it on over his head. She almost mourned as those pecs and abs disappeared from view, but admitted to herself that at least now she’d be able to concentrate better.
“I’ve been in Ronsard’s office,” he said, pitching his voice so that only she could hear. “I have the door code and got a good look at his security system. What’s on the agenda for tonight?”
“It’s fancy dress every night. Buffet dinner, dancing, just like last night.”
“Good. People will be moving around
, so it’ll be difficult to keep track of us. We’re going to dance every dance—”
“Not in high heels, I’m not. I’d be crippled.”
“Then don’t wear heels.”
She gave him a dirty look, though of course he couldn’t tell since she was still wearing the sunglasses. “You’re the one who provided the wardrobe. Heels are the only suitable shoes I have with me.”
“Okay, we’ll dance a few dances.” He looked in danger of smiling again. “I’m going to be making it pretty obvious we’re together, putting some strong moves on you, so don’t panic.”
“Why the strong moves?” Her throat had gone dry. She wished the waiter would hurry up with the mineral water John had ordered.
“So, if anyone notices us going off together, they’ll just think we’re looking for someplace more private—such as your room.”
And instead they would be going through files. “What about Ronsard? And Cara?”
“I’ll take care of her. Ronsard’s a bit trickier. We may have to take our chances and hope he’ll be too occupied to come to his office.” He paused. “Here comes the waiter.” He leaned over and took her hand, thumb rubbing lightly across the backs of her fingers. “Walk with me after lunch,” he was murmuring when the waiter set down the crystal goblets of mineral water.
She drew back and picked up a goblet, sending a shaky smile in the waiter’s direction.
“How much time do you need to plant the bug?” he asked when they were alone again.
“I’d like to have half an hour.” She could probably do it in less time than that, but she wanted to be very, very careful with this one, because she was going to have to get into the wiring in the walls and she didn’t want to leave any telltale marks. “What about the computer files? How long will it take on those?”
“Depends,” he said helpfully.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Information.”
He fought another smile. “I don’t know what system he uses, if it’s password protected or encrypted—though I’d be very surprised if he doesn’t at least have a password. I have to get the password—”
“How on earth can you do that?”
“People usually write it down somewhere handy. Or it’s something obvious, like their mother’s name, or their kids—”
“Ronsard has a daughter,” Niema said. “Laure.”
“A daughter? That wasn’t in our information,” John murmured.
“She’s an invalid. He adores her, and is very protective of her privacy. For security reasons, very few people know she exists. She’s so ill, she may not live long.” A lump rose in her throat as she remembered Laure’s skeletal face, with those dark blue eyes so like her father’s, and her mischievous, practical spirit.
“Then he’d take very seriously any incident involving her,” John mused.
Niema sat up straight, and snatched her sunglasses off so he could get a good look at how furious she was. “Don’t you dare,” she said between clenched teeth. “If you involve that child I’ll—I’ll . . .” She couldn’t think of anything bad enough, but her eyes promised severe retribution.
