Wired Ghost

by Toby Neal

  Sophie extended an open hand, resting it on the bench between them. Pim Wat set hers in Sophie’s, a light and brittle bundle of twigs. “Thank you.”

  Sophie held her mother’s hand on the bench. They gazed down at the view together, in silence.

  “I’m so sad for you about Jake,” Pim Wat said. “I know you loved him.”

  Sophie shut her eyes against a memory of the near-drowning Jake had endured at her mother’s hands. She had to keep letting go; she wanted no part of bitterness. “I did love him. So much.”

  Gentle swishing in the lush grass announced the arrival of Connor and the Master. “It’s time to go, my Beautiful One.”

  The Master’s hypnotic voice brought Pim Wat to her feet. She touched Sophie on the shoulder with a skeletal hand as she passed by, heading for the helicopter. “Be well, my daughter. I love you.”

  For the first time in her life, Sophie felt those words penetrate. Her mother had said them before, but Sophie had never believed it.

  What had shifted?

  Why, in this moment and during this strange encounter, did she finally, really feel her mother’s love?

  Maybe it was Sophie who had changed.

  Maybe it was she whose heart could finally receive what little the flawed, twisted person who had given birth to her was able to give.

  But Sophie didn’t turn her head to watch them go. She watched the view, instead. A white tern spun like a snowflake through the currents of wind far below, as the helicopter’s engine roared. She shut her eyes and let the prop wash blow over her as it flew away.

  Connor joined her on the bench.

  Sophie turned tear-swollen eyes to glare at her dearest friend, her staunchest supporter, a man she would have sworn would give his life for her. “How could you?”

  “I obey the Master.” Connor shook his head. “He’s impossible to resist. You know that. And he really seems to love your mother.”

  Sophie looked out at the ocean. “Are you staying?”

  “He’s given me leave to be with you as long as you’re here.”

  She met Connor’s sea-blue gaze. “I can’t trust you anymore. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I should have asked if it was okay to bring them, but I knew what you’d say, and I was afraid you would leave. The Master insisted Pim Wat have a chance to speak to you.” Connor gazed down at his hands, brown and calloused from weapons practice. “I’m sorry.”

  “I guess I must keep practicing forgiveness.” Sophie sighed. “I’ve decided bitterness and anger are luxuries I can’t afford. Momi will be so excited to see you. Let’s go take her to the beach.”

  And so they did.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Raveaux

  Two weeks into Sophie’s stay on Phi Ni

  Raveaux slid into the leather booth of the refined restaurant in downtown Honolulu’s exclusive civic club. Ambassador Smithson was already seated. Even wearing casual golf clothes, Sophie’s father had a distinguished appearance. White wings marked his close-cropped black hair, and when he turned, Raveaux recognized the profile he shared with Sophie. “Thank you for meeting me so soon after my return from Washington.”

  “Of course. You made sure I would.” Raveaux smiled to take any sting from his words. He slid the one thousand dollar note that had wrapped the stick drive across the table to the ambassador. “While I appreciate seeing this unusual vintage bill, I won’t accept anything for helping your daughter.”

  Smithson’s dark brown eyes were thoughtful and assessing, another expression Raveaux recognized from Sophie’s face, as he removed the money from the table and slid it into his pocket. “Good to know.”

  Raveaux looked around the place, taking in the dim chandeliers, the heavy koa tables, the padded leather booths built for privacy and confidential conversations. “I take it you come here often. A very exclusive club.”

  “Old guys like me like to have our little comfort zones.”

  The waitress arrived with large menus mounted on wooden boards, and a pot of tea already made for the ambassador. Raveaux ordered an espresso, and then considered the menu. “What’s good? If Sophie were here, she would warn you that I’m a bit of a food snob.”

  Smithson smiled. “I could tell by looking at you.”

  Raveaux glanced down at his tailored silk shirt, tie, and dress slacks over casual Italian loafers. “It’s not every day that you get to meet with a U.S. ambassador at his club.”

  “But still. It’s nice to see a man who dresses well here in Hawaii, Monsieur Raveaux.” The ambassador sipped his tea. “Or may I call you Pierre?”

  “Pierre is fine. We are of an age.”

  “Hardly. You’re a youngster compared to me—but do call me Frank.”

  The ambassador poured more tea. All of his motions reminded Raveaux of Sophie. What had her mother been like? She must have been lovely, but all he knew about Pim Wat was that she’d been a Thai aristocrat. The shape of Sophie’s head might have been her father’s, but her features had come from a beautiful woman.

  “Tell me about yourself, Pierre.” The ambassador fiddled with his teaspoon.

  “I won’t insult you, Frank, by refusing to answer. But after reading the file you gave me, I’m not naïve enough to think you haven’t checked me out thoroughly, already.”

  Smithson chuckled. “I read a report on you, yes, but I always like to hear what a person has to say about himself.”

  The waitress returned with Raveaux’s espresso, ready to take their order. The ambassador recommended the eggs Benedict; he, however, ordered a stack of pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Raveaux went with Smithson’s recommendation.

  After the server had left, Raveaux sat back. “Why did you give me that file?”

  The ambassador tilted his head to the side. “Not until you’ve told me about yourself.”

  Raveaux wrapped both hands around the espresso cup, drawing heat from the beverage. “I imagine you want to know more about why I came to Hawaii. I moved here after I retired as an investigator because I needed a change after my wife and daughter were killed. What you may not have read in the file is that I lost myself in the bottle for two years after they were gone; I blamed myself, you see, and I was haunted—not just by my loss, but how it happened. I saw the car explode, and I couldn’t save them.” Raveaux unbuttoned his sleeves, rolled them back to the elbows. The ambassador sucked in a gasp at the vivid, shiny, ropy scarring that distorted the skin of his hands and arms. “I needed a fresh start with no reminders, because for a long time, I wanted to join my family.”

  Smithson cleared his throat. “I appreciate your honesty. And how are you doing now?”

  Raveaux shrugged. “Comme ci, comme ça. I no longer drink, and that’s something.”

  They both sipped their beverages in surprisingly companionable silence.

  The ambassador spoke at last. “I gave you that file because I’m worried about my daughter. Especially now, with the loss she’s suffered. And unless I miss my guess—you care about her.”

  Raveaux’s gaze hardened, and he straightened in his seat. Perhaps Raveaux’s emotions had shown in the hospital, as he was watching over Sophie in her bed. “Of course, I care about your daughter. She is the CEO of Security Solutions and a brilliant and talented woman I’m proud to work for.”

  The ambassador smiled. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. But don’t worry, I won’t say anything to her. She’s too raw to ever believe there could be another, and I understand that.” He sighed. “I liked Jake, but I never thought he was the one for her.” Smithson poured himself more tea.

  What was the man implying? Raveaux’s pulse thumped, but he kept his expression neutral as he finished his espresso.

  The ambassador went on. “Sophie’s vulnerable in ways you may not be aware. She suffers from depression, and with this blow she’s taken, I worry she’ll be sucked into a dark place I never want to see her return to.” He told Raveaux a story of how Sophie had self-isol
ated out on a lava plain during one of her cases, and almost died. “Her mother also suffered from depression. But Pim Wat—that’s a tale for another day.”

  Their breakfast arrived. Raveaux was pleasantly surprised by the smooth lightness and tang of the Hollandaise sauce and the perfect consistency of the poached eggs. “This is excellent, Frank. Perhaps the best breakfast I’ve had since I moved to Hawaii.”

  “Now you see why I belong to this club.” Smithson’s teeth were white and perfect against his dark complexion; he was as charismatic as his daughter.

  “Tell me more about why you gave me the file—and you haven’t answered why you’re worried about Sophie, besides her depression. How does that relate to the man detailed in the records you gave me?”

  “Something that isn’t in the records, a link that hasn’t been proven, is that the blond man who helped rescue Sophie and Jake, the man who calls himself Connor, is also Sheldon Hamilton.”

  Raveaux’s brows rose. “What? I saw nothing about that in the file.”

  The ambassador nodded. “That’s because no one’s been able to find an actual link. I was the one to make the connection. I know my daughter. She’s loyal to a fault.” Smithson forked up a mouthful of pancake and chewed thoughtfully. “I’ve taken a backseat to her love life shenanigans up until now, and kept my mouth shut—as hard as it’s been. Sophie had been through enough with her first marriage to deserve a chance at love, so I kept quiet as she seemed to make one mistake after the next in her relationships, the worst of them being her ongoing involvement with this Connor character.”

  “I met him. I found him quite impressive.” Raveaux swirled the last of his egg, ham and muffin in the delicious sauce. “He was extraordinarily brave, and seemed to have some paranormal ability. He was able to tell where Jake and Sophie were, underground—and not only by using the chip he’d implanted on her.”

  “What do you mean, paranormal ability?” The ambassador’s level brows drew together. “Tell me in detail what happened with the rescue, and how that man got clean away.”

  “He basically hijacked the pilot and his chopper. I knew some extraordinary measures would need to be taken to travel through restricted airspace to rescue them, so I didn’t object.” Raveaux explained the series of events ending with Sophie and Jake’s drop off at the hospital. “Whoever this man really is, Kendall Bix has some idea. He directed me to meet Connor and his Thai partner at the airport. He didn’t say who Connor was, only that he was important and had a role with Security Solutions.” Raveaux set his plate aside and steepled his fingers. “If, as you say, Connor played dual roles as Todd Remarkian and Sheldon Hamilton, founding partners at Security Solutions, it would make sense that Sophie and Bix would both be aware of his continued existence. What I don’t understand, and hope you can help me with, is how Sophie ended up as CEO of Security Solutions—and why.”

  “Ah yes.” The ambassador gestured for more hot water in his teapot. “I mentioned my daughter’s romantic stumbles, didn’t I? Well, she dated Todd/Sheldon and uncovered not only his dual identity, but his secret life as an online vigilante. They were lovers.”

  That shouldn’t have surprised Raveaux—why else would that enigmatic blond man have planted a chip on her? But it still hit him like a body blow. “I see.” But he didn’t. Not really. “And where does Momi come in?”

  “She was the surprise result of Sophie’s relationship with Alika Wolcott.”

  “And who is he?” Raveaux frowned. “What kind of timeline are we covering for all of these ‘relationship stumbles’?” He made air quotes with his fingers.

  “Approximately eight years. Sophie escaped from her first husband at age twenty-four after marrying at nineteen. She used to do MMA fighting, and Alika was her friend and coach. He was her first relationship after her divorce. Then Todd/Sheldon. Then Jake.”

  “Help me understand.” Raveaux ordered another espresso when the hot water came for the ambassador’s tea. “How is it that Alika fathered Momi, then?”

  “An accident during one of her cases.” Smithson shook his head. “A happy one, it turns out. I wouldn’t trade my granddaughter for anything. Sophie was between relationships at the time Momi was conceived.”

  “Who is Sophie involved with romantically, then?”

  “Jake. It’s been only Jake since before Momi was born.”

  “And everyone knows about everyone else? And is—okay with it?”

  “After Momi and Sophie were reunited and Jake was freed from captivity in Thailand two years ago—that was all in the file—he broke up with Sophie. He started his own business with another woman, Felicia, for two years.” The ambassador pushed his plate aside. “I suspect there was some crossover with the vigilante Connor that caused the breakup, because that man stayed in Thailand with the Yām Khûmkạn, an organization that’s closely monitored by the CIA.” Smithson gestured for their plates to be cleared. “It’s a regular soap opera. Sophie was finally getting over Jake when they reunited, right after your case in San Francisco.”

  “I understand now,” Raveaux murmured. That’s why Sophie’d been open to a relationship with him during that case—there’d been a brief time, before Jake came back into her life, when Raveaux could swear she’d been attracted to him, too. “But I still don’t get why you wanted me to know all of this.”

  The ambassador’s mouth tightened and his brows drew down. “Because, Pierre, I want you to take down the Ghost. I want that man who calls himself Connor out of my daughter’s life. Him, and those criminals in Thailand that he works with.”

  Raveaux reeled, pushing back from the table at this bombshell. “I am a private citizen, sir, from another country. A retired investigator, no longer associated with any agency.” A timely interruption gave a measure of relief as the waitress brought Raveaux his fresh espresso. He accepted the small thick cup, and she cleared the rest of their breakfast clutter. When she’d gone, Raveaux continued. “How do you have all of this information?”

  “The file you received was collected by the Secret Service. They, along with the FBI, Interpol, NSA, and CIA, have decided that the Ghost, the man who calls himself Connor, is a threat to our national security. They’ve formed a multi-agency task force to bring him in. We’d like you to be a part of it, and we’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

  Raveaux raised his brows. “I do not respond well to bullying, sir.” He slid to the side of the booth and stood up. “This matter is none of my business.”

  “We’ll make it your business.”

  Raveaux took out his wallet. He peeled off a fifty-dollar bill, tucking it under the salt shaker. “Au revoir, sir. Breakfast is on me.”

  He could feel Ambassador Smithson’s gaze burning a hole in his back as he walked away.

  Chapter Forty

  Raveaux

  One day later, evening

  Raveaux finished his solitary and excellent meal, a top-quality pork chop with sautéed scallions, half a baguette slathered with butter from a nearby bakery, and a generous portion of baked summer squash drizzled with honey. He was proud of the progress he’d made in allowing himself little indulgences, and he’d been reflecting on that when the doorbell sounded an unfamiliar chime.

  Raveaux had no visitors and expected none. He grabbed his loaded gun from the slot in the side table where he kept it handy, and peered over to check the spyhole.

  Two men in leisurewear with concealed sidearms darkened his doorstep. One of them looked familiar.

  Not good.

  There was nothing to be done but brazen it out. Raveaux put his weapon away and opened the door.

  He immediately recognized Stefan Voise of Interpol, even before Voise held up his identification. “Stefan! What brings you to this corner of the world?”

  Voise stepped forward. They slapped each other’s backs amiably, though this could not possibly be a social visit. The man had a five o’clock shadow no matter the time of day, and he rubbed his chin with a scraping sound that
sawed at Raveaux’s nerves as he indicated his partner. “Meet my colleague. Karl Beckett of the CIA.”

  “Ah. A gathering of cops and spies.” Raveaux tried for good humor. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  His comment fell flat in the face of Beckett’s chilly stare. “May we come in?”

  “Of course.” Raveaux swept the door wide. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  The men entered, refused beverages, sat on the couch, and proceeded to grill Raveaux, questioning him about his work with Security Solutions, his relationship with Sophie, and finally, every detail he remembered about the blond man who called himself Connor and “his Thai sidekick” during the recent rescue on the lava plain.

  Raveaux eventually sat back in his Danish slingback chair and raised his hands in surrender. “Gentlemen. Really. I need to know what this is about.”

  “You were briefed by Ambassador Smithson,” Beckett said. “As he must have told you, this is a multi-agency investigation, including the FBI, into the man who calls himself Connor, an international criminal who poses a danger to our national security.”

  “Isn’t the FBI supposed to conduct investigations on US soil?” Raveaux cocked his head. He was pretty sure these men were legitimate, not least because he knew one of them, but how the roles were being applied was interesting.

  “The FBI is a part of our task force, but the two of us came to talk with you, Pierre, to emphasize the international nature of this case,” Voise said. “As Ambassador Smithson must have told you, our task force includes the Secret Service, CIA, NSA, FBI, and Interpol.”

  “So many agencies for one little fugitive,” Raveaux said.

  Beckett leaned forward from Raveaux’s low, modern leather sofa. “Let’s cut to the chase. We have the full cooperation of the Immigration and Naturalization Service, too. You will be deported back to France with a stop at Guantánamo for interrogation, to face obstruction of justice charges—if you don’t cooperate fully in helping us capture this man and his associates.”