by Toby Neal
“Of course. I’ll let her know. We should meet tomorrow.” The three men loaded the equipment onto the dolly and took it into the building. The door shut behind them with a clang. Raveaux cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?”
Sophie frowned. “Are you asking because I’m pregnant?”
The heat of embarrassment tingled the back of his neck. “I suppose.”
“Well, stop that. Don’t treat me any differently than you did before.” Her voice was taut with annoyance. “I’ll let you know if I’m having a problem.” She turned to follow the computers into the building, and her hand landed on the handle of the steel door.
“Then let me fix dinner for you, sometime,” Raveaux burst out. “You liked my cooking. Before.”
Sophie stopped, her back to him. “I do like your cooking.” She opened the door. “Text me when you’re making something worth eating.” She never looked back. The door banged shut.
But she would let him feed her.
Raveaux got back into the Cadillac, unaccountably lighter.
Chapter Twenty
Connor
Day 4
Connor knocked at the door of the Master’s suite of rooms on one of the higher floors of the compound. He’d spent the morning meditating to control his thoughts and emotions; he still wasn’t sure that the Master couldn’t read his mind.
A long moment passed as he stood in front of the polished wooden portal. He heard nothing from inside the chamber.
Connor raised his hand to knock again, and the door opened.
The Master stood before him, dressed in a scarlet silk robe open to the waist and loosely knotted, as if he had arisen from bed to join Connor at the door—but it was mid-morning, a time when the Master was done with the morning drilling, and usually ate a late breakfast. Connor had timed his visit carefully.
“What is it, Number One?”
“May I come in? I’d like to speak with you privately.” The walls had ears, and so did the hallways, in the compound of the Yām Khûmkạn.
The Master held the door ajar. Connor entered a sunken living area that he was very familiar with. No fire in the fireplace today, as the season had warmed, but the chess set awaited them.
Connor’s gaze moved about the luxuriously appointed space; the bedroom door was ajar, but the Master’s inner sanctum where he meditated was closed, and so was the bathing area.
The Master gestured to the European-style couch that faced the fireplace. “Have a seat. I’ll have some tea brought up.”
Connor sat, restraining himself from nervous gestures like smoothing his gi, as the Master used a wall intercom to summon tea and refreshments.
Finished with that small chore, the Master came over and sat in his usual place, a wing-backed armchair. The man looked like a king in his scarlet robe, his excellent musculature gleaming in natural light from carefully placed overhead slits. His pansy-purple eyes were unreadable. “What do you have to discuss, Number One?”
“Sophie has decided to cut off all communication with me, for two reasons.”
A moment went by. The Master didn’t respond; instead he gestured to the chess set. “It has been a while since we played. What color do you choose?”
He didn’t really have a choice about playing, and he knew it.
Connor moved to sit on a small stool in front of the board. He had come to be attached to this chess set; each piece had been lovingly and beautifully carved from native hardwoods by a long-ago ninja trainee. One side was bleached white, and the other rubbed with some kind of dark stain. Every piece had been translated into a unique figure from the Thai Royal Court of millennia ago.
Connor chose white, as he usually did, and made a bold opening move. He had not intended to stay here for hours, and sometimes the Master beat him in just a few moves. Once in a while, he let Connor win.
The Master moved from his armchair and joined Connor at the table. His countermove was swift. “How does Sophie communicate with you?”
The Master had never asked this before. With his new resolution to kill Pim Wat, Connor felt an internal quiver of concern. Was he fishing for some weakness? “We have a secret chat room we have been using for years. Untraceable.” Connor deployed his knight.
“What do you think prompted her communication?” The Master counter-moved.
“The investigation that caused me to have to withdraw from Phi Ni and flee back here with my servants is placing pressure on her. Sophie is worried about being taken captive, and being used to lure me into a trap. She believes that the larger agenda of the team is to capture you and Pim Wat, too. She removed the chip that allowed me to rescue her, so that she cannot be forced to leverage me to rescue her.”
“Commendable. She has shown an admirable loyalty to your relationship. Do you want to reunite with her, now that Jake is dead?” The Master took Connor’s knight.
Connor pretended to study his pieces, his heart thumping and mind scrabbling. The Master likely knew that he was agitated by the question. He couldn’t answer without revealing his hopes, so he deflected with a new piece of information. “She is pregnant with Jake’s baby.”
A slight noise from somewhere behind them; perhaps a muffled gasp.
Connor swung around, and his eyes widened. Pim Wat stood in the doorway of the Master’s bedroom.
Sophie’s mother looked stunning, and completely different from the last time he’d seen her. She wore a robe identical to the Master’s, barely tied at her supple waist, and her round, perfect breasts were semi-revealed by the gaping fabric. Her new face looked like that of the movie actress Halle Berry. Her hair, once a stark, dead white, had been colored a rich platinum blonde that contrasted beautifully with her golden-brown skin.
“Hello, Number One. I’m back.” Pim Wat glided down the two steps into the living area, and rested a hand on the Master’s shoulder. Connor remembered how skeletal her hand had been; and the claw-like fingers stroking the silk of the Master’s robe were the same—her hand was the only thing he recognized.
“Welcome home, Mistress. You look beautiful.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Number One. Tell me more of my daughter’s news.” Pim Wat smiled, and now Connor saw the faint pink of healing scars around her mouth, forehead, and jawline. In a few months, those traces would be invisible.
The cat was out of the proverbial bag, but he’d do what he could to make it clear whose side he was on. “Sophie did not want you to know the news of her pregnancy, Mistress. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”
Pim Wat shrugged. “No more than I expected. She would not want me to steal this baby, too.” Her smile was shark-like.
Connor felt a wave of rage and opened his mouth to respond, but fortunately the tea arrived. The servant stopped in the doorway. “Oh, I’m sorry, Master. I did not know you had another guest.” There were only two teacups on the tray.
Connor shot to his feet. “It’s fine. I’ll catch up with you two later. I only meant to stop in briefly and convey this news.” Connor headed for the door and brushed past the servant as quickly as he could.
He had to warn Sophie that her mother knew about her pregnancy and had a new face. But how?
He’d start by replying to her message in the chat room. Hopefully, she would check it.
Once he had a secure location, Connor used his personal burner phone to log into the chat room.
Dear Sophie:
* * *
Pim Wat overheard me tell the Master about your pregnancy. I’m sorry that happened, but I felt I had to tell him that news. She’s just come from extensive plastic surgery and has a new face that somewhat resembles the actress Halle Berry. I’m sure the task force would like a photo; I’ll try to get one for them if I can.
* * *
I understand that you need to cut me off right now, but trust me, please. I will find a way to trade her to the authorities for my freedom from this place. I won’t accept a life without you in it. Connor.
Connor h
it Send before he could re-think his unvarnished declaration.
Chapter Twenty-One
Pim Wat
Pim Wat stroked her hand down the Master’s shoulder, enjoying the feeling of silk over muscle, as the servant carried the loaded tea tray into the room. The Master lifted a hand to take hers, as he stood up from the chessboard’s stool. They seated themselves on the couch in front of the refreshment table. The servant set down the tray and arranged everything needed for an English high tea.
Pim Wat’s emotions warmed as she gazed at the spread of food. Great trouble had been taken to procure all of the special ingredients for an English tea way out here at the compound, but her beloved knew how much she enjoyed crumpets, clotted cream, fresh blackberry jam, petits fours, and cucumber sandwiches. “Darling, it looks delicious. I’m so hungry.”
The Master squeezed her hand. “And I am hungry for you. Four weeks is a long time to be separated—though the results are spectacular.” He leaned over and kissed her.
Pim Wat enjoyed his taste, his smell, the touch of his tongue that promised more.
The Master let go of her hand, picked up a plate, and chose all of her favorite things as he served her. “Number One is unhappy with losing your daughter from his life.”
“What do I care? Connor is just another lovelorn swain, and Sophie has many. I have no idea how my daughter came to be so endowed with pheromones,” Pim Wat said sourly.
The Master laughed his deep chuckle. “Really? You have no idea, my Beautiful One?” He tweaked her ear playfully. “She inherited that from you, of course.”
Once more, Pim Wat felt herself melting. It was dangerous to love the Master so much, to be so deeply under his spell that it was hard to think clearly in his presence. Sometimes she knew he exerted that power intentionally, to control her. Other times, like now, she merely felt loved in a way that she craved, in a way that no one else had ever loved her.
“I want Number One to be content. I intend to turn the Yām Khûmkạn over to his management. In time, I would like for us to be able to enjoy our advancing age on our secret island,” he said. Pali, the Master’s personal island in the Philippines, was the very definition of paradise.
“I love that place.” Pim Wat lowered her eyes modestly. She took a bite of her crumpet. The clotted cream and blackberry jam, as well as the pastry, were delicious on her tongue.
The Master picked up a petit four and ate it in one bite. “I think your daughter is a liability to that plan.”
Pim Wat’s pulse quickened. She hid her excitement by eating one of the cucumber sandwiches. She licked her fingers delicately. “Thank you once again for always attending to my needs. Yes, my daughter is a liability. I could tell when I met with her recently, that though she gave lip service to accepting my apology, she will never allow me to see my grandchildren.” Pim Wat raised her eyes to meet those of the Master. “And I would like to see my grandchildren. Often.”
“I understand, but the compound is no place for children, as I told you before when you brought her infant here. We need a larger, longer-term plan. I urge you to be patient. After all, Sophie still has to give birth to this baby.” The Master poured their tea. He lifted his cup, and met Pim Wat’s gaze. “How would you feel about eliminating her from the equation? Number One could settle into the role I have planned for him if Sophie were gone, along with his dream of another life spent with her.”
Pim Wat’s mouth still felt tight around the lips, scars impeding her wide smile. “I thought I would have to fight for permission to remove her. She must pay for trading me to the CIA.”
“Then we are in accord.” The Master narrowed his eyes slightly in calculation. “We have until she gives birth to plan her demise. It must be made to seem a tragic accident, or perhaps the blunder of one of the multi-agency team—we can strategize something that kills two birds with one stone. But Number One must never suspect, or I will lose his loyalty.”
“Leave it to me,” Pim Wat said, and added a little sugar to her tea. “I do love you.”
“I know.” He smiled. “Let’s go back to bed.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sophie
Day 5
Sophie had just shut her eyes for a few moments, resting on her yoga mat, when the heavy metal door opening into the basement workroom at Security Solutions screeched open.
She woke with a start, and sat up too quickly. She lowered herself back down to her elbows as her head spun. Her eyes were gritty, and a knot tightened the muscles between her shoulder blades.
Sophie had spent the night in the workroom she had set up at Security Solutions, in order to maintain the flow of copying each of the ten hard drives that had landed on the long table she had set up. Each computer required several hours to copy, depending on how much information was on the unit, and she had only two write blocker devices. She’d set an alarm on her phone, and slept on her yoga mat, getting up every few hours to switch one of the copying devices to another computer as it completed the previous one. At nine a.m. the next day, she’d set up a time for Raveaux and Leede to come in for a meeting.
Somehow, it was nine a.m. of the next day.
Hermione Leede stood in the doorway next to a Security Solutions operative who’d escorted her to the basement. She looked perfectly put together in a tiny fuchsia pant suit. Her keen eyes, bright behind cat eye glasses, took in the scene at a glance. “Oh my! No one expected you to stay up all night working on this!”
Sophie sat up at a more reasonable speed, and stood slowly to her feet, flapping a hand to dismiss Leede’s security escort. “It was the most efficient way to get the work done.”
She had another reason for spending the night in the work room; she hadn’t wanted to see her father. She sent him a text that she was tied up with a case and spending the night at her office, working.
Avoidance was a good strategy when subterfuge was not one of her strengths.
Leede advanced into the work area as Sophie went to the phone on the corner of the table. She pressed the extension for Paula’s desk upstairs. “Paula, can you bring us some fresh tea and sandwiches from the food cart? Also, fresh scones if you can find them. I haven’t had breakfast yet, and Ms. Leede is here. She appreciates a good cup of tea and a scone.”
“Right away, Sophie!” As usual, Paula’s cheerful, positive response lifted Sophie’s spirits.
“I didn’t even need to tell you that I love a good scone,” Leede said, smiling. “Preferably with homemade preserves.”
“Anyone from England is likely to love those,” Sophie said. “It wasn’t much of a guess. I’m craving a warm pastry with butter, myself. Where is Raveaux?”
“I was in touch with him this morning. He said he was following up with something, and would be a little late.”
“Good.” Sophie combed her wild hair with her fingers. “I need to go to the restroom and freshen up, anyway.” She indicated the table, stacked high with computers. “I’ve been able to copy all the hard drives. I have two computers set up for us here to use for review, and the drives are already loaded, labeled with their owners. If you’d make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Excellent.” Leede sat down and lifted her leather bag onto the table. “Take your time.”
Sophie hurried out, her bladder acting up per usual. She made it to the bathroom in time, and took a quick shower in the locker room. Wrapped in a towel, she twisted her riotous curls into Marcella’s favorite “FBI twist,” and secured the roll of hair with bobby pins. She then changed into a fresh Security Solutions black polo shirt and yoga pants, and put on a little makeup.
Hopefully, with all of that, Raveaux wouldn’t be able to tell she’d spent the night in the workroom. After this meeting, she’d go upstairs to her office and nap, for sure. She could feel exhaustion tugging at her bones like gravity.
Sophie returned to the basement, and smiled at the sight of Leede, already scanning the monitor of one of the computers.
“I’m glad Raveaux’s not here yet. I wanted to have a few moments to get to know you a little better. He seems quite taken with you.”
“An interesting choice of words.” Leede lifted a well-groomed brow. Her intelligent eyes sparkled. “I’m rather taken with him, too.”
Sophie smiled. “I probably should have said he’s impressed with you. He told me a little about your tactics yesterday.”
“Setting a cat among the pigeons can sometimes flush out new game. While I had the three Kama`aina Schools’ bigwigs’ devices, I bugged them.” She handed Sophie a palm-sized communication pad. “I’m giving this to you, as a separate layer of protection for myself. You can track their conversations and locations. I hope you don’t mind me delegating this. You are subcontracted to me, so . . .”
“I see what you’re doing. Plausible deniability.” Sophie took the device.
“Yes. And I was up to my eyeballs in spreadsheets yesterday. The data is quite extensive, and I need to do more of that today. Would you monitor their phones for us when you aren’t working on the computers?”
“That’s a lot to keep track of for one person.” But Sophie took the device anyway. She felt a jolt of adrenaline and interest quickening her veins. She walked over to one of the rigs she had set up for herself. She could hook up the pad to a computer, run the verbal tracing through a voice-to-text program, and set her Data Analysis Victim Information Database program to monitoring for certain keywords related to their case.
Running the bugged phones’ conversations through DAVID would be much more efficient than monitoring long-winded personal talk from the owners of the various cell phones. It wasn’t worth explaining all of that to Hermione Leede, who wanted only to divest herself of a responsibility.
