Countermeasure (Countermeasure Series)

by Cecilia Aubrey

  Throughout breakfast they studied each other covertly. They didn’t verbalize it, but something had changed between them. The latest developments and uninterrupted contact with Bauer had allowed her to get to know him better, his humor, his curiosity, and also his downfalls—God forbid you messed with his computer.

  Cassandra shouldn’t have been all that surprised at Bauer’s linguistic skills as she watched him order their breakfast in French. While they waited for their breakfast to be served, they talked like old friends, the conversation comfortable, one topic flowing into another. Cassandra became more relaxed in his company, and when the subject of how they grew up came around, it was natural to continue to describe theirs to each other without second thoughts as they feasted on the delicious Parisian breakfast.

  Cassandra wasn’t quite sure if the deep and strange feelings she harbored for him were the culprit, but she shared more with Bauer then she had with anyone else she had met, with the exception of Jessica. Before she knew it, she found herself talking about her mother’s passing and how it had affected her father.

  “She was a beautiful woman.” Cassandra kept her eyes low, fiddling with the last piece of her strawberry-jam-filled croissant on her plate.

  “Of that I have no doubts,” Bauer responded sadly, and with the certainty of someone who had met her mother in life. That certainty made her look up and lock eyes with him.

  Cassandra snapped out of her reminiscing when she saw the look of sorrow in his eyes. She didn’t want his pity.

  Cassandra had been opening up to him, spontaneously giving him an insight into her life, and Trevor had rejoiced at that new step of getting closer to her until she had slammed her hatches tight again.

  “We need to get back to work. Have you heard anything more from George?” she asked briskly.

  “Some overnight. I think you should read the new transcripts. I’d like to get your take on Allison after you read them. I think we can pull some good data from what we have in hand right now.”

  “How much can we really trust him with this information?” Cassandra probed carefully.

  “As I said before, George is like a brother to me. I trust him with my life.”

  Cassandra sighed. “Okay. If you vouch for him I guess there’s not much I can do besides thank him for his help. We’d never have gotten this far without it.”

  “Yes. George is definitely one of the good guys. I’ll introduce you to him properly when we get back to the States.” She raised her eyebrows as if stunned by his statement, and he joked, “What? We can’t stay friends once this little adventure is over?”

  “You say ‘stay.’ Are you saying we are friends now?” Cassandra hesitated.

  Trevor’s joking smile slowly faded and he held her gaze. “I truly hope so, Cassandra.”

  She searched his face for a moment. “I might regret this, but I’d really like that. I’d like to be your friend, Trevor.”

  ****

  Back at the control room, Trevor pulled up the geolocation map generated with the current existing data on his computer.

  “I think we should each stake out a phone.”

  “I don’t know,” Cassandra sighed, looking through the latest transcripts one more time. “Somehow I don’t get the vibe of a cold, calculating criminal from her conversations with her family.” The new information gave her enough to doubt her earlier assessment.

  “Exactly what I thought, too.”

  “Allison has never used the same phone twice. What makes you think she will now?”

  “She has to be in that area, based on the plotted data.”

  “Think about it. If she’s hiding, she’s going to use the farthest phone from where she is staying. The further out the better. That’s what I would do.”

  “Okay, you have a point. What’s your idea for tackling this?” he asked calmly.

  Surprised, Cassandra forgot what she was going to say for a moment. He had just stolen her thunder. She had been gearing up for a fight, but instead he’d agreed with her—had even asked for her input.

  “Cassandra, did you hear me?”

  “What? Idea? Yes. Hold on.” Cassandra pulled out the map of Paris with the plotted coordinates. She set it on the bed and indicated the marked points. “You said George traced the phones to these locations. There’s no guarantee she will return to either one of them. I do think, however, that she’s in the area for a reason. Something is drawing her there, and it’s not just the distance from her current hiding spot.” Cassandra took a breath and paused, waiting for him to dismiss the idea.

  “Keep going.”

  “This could take a while. We need to see if we can find her somewhere in the area. It’s going to take a lot of luck, but the easiest thing to do is play tourist.”

  “Tourist? What do you mean?”

  “I checked with the concierge of the hotel. There is a popular café located about halfway between the locations of the payphones. We’re two tourists on our honeymoon who are staying close by, and this—” she pointed to the location of the café almost smack in the middle of the plotted circle on the map, “—has just become our favorite hangout. We can park ourselves there for the day and watch the pedestrian flow. The street is not very wide; it will give us a view of both sides.”

  Cassandra’s voice trailed off when she realized that Trevor wasn’t commenting. Silence filled the room. She sat on the edge of the bed and began folding the map. Apprehension ate at her stomach. She thought it was a good plan—knew it was a good plan. Better than the obvious phone-lurking scheme.

  Damn, he’s not buying it. She scrambled for an alternative and came up empty.

  She became defensive. “If it doesn’t jive for you we can still stake out the phones.”

  Trevor ran the scenario Cassandra proposed in his head. He weighed their options and came to the conclusion her idea definitely had merit. It was worth giving it a try. They had already been playing a waiting game. Why not do it from a nice Parisian café in the sun and fresh air instead?

  The defensive tone and underlining defeat in her voice caught his attention. “What did you say?”

  “I said, if you think that staking out the phones is a better plan, that’s cool.”

  “No. Your idea might work better. We should give it a try. We can take our laptops and map, and, with the tourist guide, we’ll look the part perfectly.” He smiled at her. “Great idea.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Holy Find

  The next morning in the lobby, ready to take on surveillance, Cassandra spotted Trevor first. Her blood had immediately heated at the sight. Trevor was dressed down and looked like the perfect tourist. He sported slightly baggy jeans, a geek t-shirt telling everyone to check his code, and red Chucks. The look in his eyes when he finally noticed her had also given her a little thrill.

  She had put on her favorite low-riding jeans, a form-fitting discreetly low-cut wrap top, and practical tennis shoes. His look of admiration reminded her of that day, not so long ago, when she had stormed into his office. She could clearly recall the moment his startling blue eyes had locked with hers; the same look had instantly flooded them.

  At the time it had made her uncomfortable, but not in a weird way, which had puzzled her. She could also remember how the simple word shite, spoken in his Irish brogue, had caught her attention. Annoyed at her own moment of weakness, she had gone for the jugular.

  Who could have foreseen they would be in Paris less than a week later? Paris. From the corner of her eye she watched the man sitting next to her in the car. Her stomach was in knots. When he looked her way, she turned her head to look out the window. She hoped that her plan would pay off.

  Trevor was fidgety. The weight of Cassandra’s scrutiny hit him and he glanced in her direction, but she diverted her eyes to the scenery, avoiding his gaze. He turned his eyes back to the road, but he could still see her in his peripheral vision. He took his time studying her. The curve of her cheek and her pursed lips drew him, and
a smile played at the corner of his mouth.

  Her pursed lips and faraway look had become familiar to him—her version of a thinking cap. He didn’t think she realized that her lips became even more inviting during those moments she became lost in her head. The urge to lean over and capture them with his was strong. His cock twitched to life and he had to clamp down hard on his reactions to her.

  Although she had definitely warmed up to him, she was still keeping her distance. He had to respect that and allow more time for her to come around. He adjusted himself subtly into a more comfortable position and, in the process, accidently brushed against Cassandra’s arm.

  Cassandra jumped, as if shocked, and quickly moved her arm to rest in her lap. It gave him some satisfaction to know that she experienced the same tingle he did every time they touched. Shite. That woman had the power to bring him to his knees. Thank God she hadn’t fully realized that yet. Heaven help him when she did.

  ****

  “Three days and still nothing,” Cassandra grumbled in her chair.

  They had spent the last days sipping tea and espressos while savoring French pastries. Cassandra perked up when the waiter appeared with her drink.

  “As much as I love soft drinks, at this rate I’ll have trouble getting up from my chair. My ass will be stuck in it.” She was in dire need of a pick-me-up. The long hours of sitting, pretending to be tourists, were starting to get to her. She was antsy and her scar was bothering her again. Sipping the coke she studied Trevor. He exuded tranquility.

  If he grinned at her and said “Patience, grasshopper” one more time he would be wearing her patience on his cute ass.

  “Anything new?” She tried to initiate conversation, but at that moment he was deep in concentration.

  “Working on narrowing the geolocation results by modifying the algorithm on the program.” He didn’t raise his eyes from the screen. It sounded like mumbo-jumbo to her. “It could help us isolate another place to set watch if this one doesn’t pan out.”

  With a sigh, she grabbed her sunglasses and put them on before pushing from the table. “Hey, I’m going to walk to the end of the block. I need to stretch my legs. Your turn to keep your eyes peeled for Allison.” Without waiting for Trevor to respond, Cassandra took off, strolling away to clear her head.

  Trevor nodded and watched as she walked away. He had heard her comment about soft drinks. Looking at her, he could say she had nothing to worry about. It didn’t escape his attention that several of the men in the café and on the street also appeared to be thinking the same thing. He could almost hear their thoughts, Nice ass, and for some reason it irritated him.

  The shirt she wore that day barely reached the waistband of her pants, and her Venus dimples peeked just above the line. His mouth suddenly went dry as an image of her lying naked on her stomach in his bed hit him. He imagined the texture of her skin under his tongue as he explored that area. Shite. Get a grip man.

  Closing his laptop, he pretended to people-watch, sipping his tea and nodding to those who returned his glance. The search for Allison had been like looking for a needle in a haystack. He knew that Cassandra, even with years of surveillance experience behind her, was growing as impatient as he was.

  When the waiter brought him a new cup of tea, he glanced at his watch. It had been well over thirty minutes since Cassandra had left. He was getting restless. She should have been back by now. He turned off his laptop and put it back in his bag. It was almost the time they usually returned to the hotel anyway. Their pattern had been to sit in the café during the time range of Allison’s calls and then walk back to the car parked outside the target area so they could both get a static and mobile view of the surroundings.

  A few minutes later, there was still no sign of Cassandra. Trevor, more than a little concerned, called for the bill. It was time to look for her. He grabbed both their backpacks and walked in the direction he had seen her leave, thinking she might have stopped in a store or become otherwise distracted along the way. His reaction and concern for her safety was duly noted in the back of his mind. In the distance, he heard his name called. Trevor’s head snapped around and he spotted Cassandra on the other side of the street.

  “Trevor!” She waved her arms and motioned for him to come to her.

  Her cheeks were flushed and she was clearly excited. Trevor sprinted across the street and just missed getting hit by a taxi that skidded to a halt barely a few feet from him.

  “We have to hurry. I found her,” Cassandra rushed out in a low tone so other pedestrians wouldn’t overhear them.

  “What do you mean you found her? Damn it, Cassandra. I’ve been waiting for you to come back for a long time,” he gritted in exasperation, trying hard not to let her see his fear for her.

  “I didn’t have time to tell you. I would have lost her. She came out of a building and cut in front me. I recognized her and followed. As soon as I saw where she was headed I came back for you. She’s gone into the cathedral about four blocks over. She may have gone there to pray. If that’s the case, she might be there for a short time.” She pulled her backpack from his shoulder, slipped it over hers, and took off at a soft jog. “Come on. This way. We have to hurry!”

  Trevor swallowed his frustration and quickly caught up with her. They made their way down the street, crossing the bridge toward the Île de la Cité—a natural island in the very center of the city of Paris.

  Cassandra stopped abruptly and turned to Trevor, nodding toward the beautiful gothic church in front of them. “She’s there. Inside Sainte-Chapelle.”

  Thankfully, the line to enter the massive historical building was short. Within minutes, they made their way through the patio following the flow of tourists into the larger Upper Chapel. Trevor held open the big heavy wooden door for Cassandra. Once inside, they moved out of the way, just long enough for their eyes to adjust to the dim lighting.

  They scoured the area quickly and checked the tourists both standing and sitting along the walls. Not finding Allison, they headed for the Lower Chapel—a smaller chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary. As soon as Cassandra’s eyes adjusted, she began walking down the middle of the barren sanctuary. She sensed Trevor following behind her through the large narrow area bordered by tall painted columns in red and blue. Fleur-de-Lis in gold peppered the blue columns and gold images of the cathedral itself dotted the red ones.

  The hush of the place was humbling and brought back memories of Sundays when her mother would take her to church. For a moment, Cassandra was distracted by the painful memories. They didn’t happen very frequently anymore, but when they did her heart always splintered.

  Trevor stepped up next to Cassandra and joined her in searching the faces of the nearby tourists for Allison’s. He caught a glance of Cassandra’s profile when she lowered her head and noticed a tear running down her cheek. The unexpected sign of fragility was like a punch to his gut, and all his pent-up anger toward her dissipated. Concerned, he reached for her hand, leaned in, and whispered next to her ear, “Are you okay?”

  Cassandra closed her eyes and quickly brushed the tear from her cheek. “I’m good.”

  “Are you sure? Do you want to step outside?”

  “No. I am okay. Really.” Cassandra pulled herself together and redirected their focus. “She’s changed her appearance. Look for black hair. She was wearing a floral-print dress.”

  Trevor glanced at the different groups of tourists huddled in whispered conversation. Although Sainte-Chapelle was a popular tourist spot, with its beautiful stained-glass windows and gothic architecture, traffic was fairly light that day. It shouldn’t be hard to find Allison if she was still in there.

  Trevor squeezed her hand to show support. “Right. Black hair. You take the right side. I’ll take the left. I’ll meet you at the end—there, by the chain.”

  Nodding, Cassandra slowly walked down the right side of the room looking over those closest to her. She concentrated on clothes and the facial features she had mem
orized over the last weeks. Cassandra glanced Trevor’s way and spotted him working his way down the left. They reached the end of the room and the chained area in front of the statue of Louis IX at the same time.

  “It looks like we missed her,” Trevor whispered.

  “I guess so,” Cassandra sighed in resignation.

  When she turned to head back to the exit, she heard a sound somewhere off to her right and tilted her head slightly to see if she could hear it again. In the soft light, she noted that behind the statue of Louis IX was a small marble bench built into the wall. Cassandra heard the sound again and realized that it was a muffled sob. She stepped to look around the statue and noticed a woman sitting on the bench, hunched over, almost out of sight.

  Trevor stopped abruptly to avoid running into Cassandra. When she tilted her head his curiosity was piqued by the deep concentration on her face. When she unconsciously reached out for his hand and gave it a squeeze, his heart stuttered. She then turned to meet his eyes while nodding her head in the direction of the statue and tapped her ear with a finger. It was then he noticed the sound of a woman sobbing. When he shot her a questioning look, she pulled on his hand until he reached her side.

  He followed the direction of her nod with his eyes and noticed the woman hunched over with her arms wrapped around her middle. Her dark head was bowed and he could see the tears glistening in the glow of the spotlights and stained-glass windows above them. Puzzled, Trevor looked at Cassandra. She nodded again before she stepped around the statue, walked quietly toward the woman, and took a seat next to her. Startled, the woman looked up at her. Trevor now saw the reason for Cassandra’s insistence. The woman was indeed Allison. Her blonde hair had been dyed black, just as Cassandra had described.

  Cassandra’s eyes softened watching the woman. She had imagined time and again her reaction to finding Allison, but since reading the files George had provided and her discussions with Trevor, more and more Cassandra had come to view Allison as a victim.