“What’s dangerous? My memories or getting close to Slate?”
“Both. Getting close to Jean-Claude blinded you and nearly got you killed,” he said.
“I’m not sure if I was dreaming, but it was as clear as a memory. Jean-Claude was on his knees and looking right at me when Marko’s guys killed him.”
“You’re mixing memory and emotion. You should ignore those memories until we can get you to a psychologist to reconstruct them properly.”
She replayed the last moments of the Parisian pimp’s life. A chill ran through her as she relived her emotions. Through her fear and pain, she remembered having pitied Jean-Claude during his dying moments.
“Gerry,” she said, “I remember the smell of sweat, the aching in my jaw, the pool of blood running from the brunette whore’s throat. What’s weird is that I remember having pitied him. If he had turned on me, don’t you think I would have felt something different?”
“You’re under a lot of stress. You’re not seeing things clearly.”
“No, Gerry. I’m just starting to see my past enough to question it. Are we sure he compromised my cover?”
“Who else could it have been?”
“I just don’t see him turning on me. I’m starting to regain faith in my judgment, and my instincts say it wasn’t him.”
Rickets released a drawn out sigh.
“Well, in a way he did,” he said. “He became enamored with you, and the brunette whore could tell. She got so jealous that he told her you were CIA to calm her down, but it backfired. She turned both of you over to Marko.”
“That damned brunette whore blew my cover?”
“It’s an ugly truth I wanted to protect you from.”
“But Marko killed her,” she said.
“He wouldn’t let someone who turned on her master join him. Based on the reconstruction at the scene, he took care of her first.”
Olivia recalculated the evidence leading to the most traumatic event of her life, but a vital piece eluded her.
Her voice fell to a hoarse whisper.
“How do you know it was her?” she asked.
“Her clientele included enough Parisian officials that she was able to probe them until she found one that knew about our operation. That led her to me.”
“To you? Why?”
“She threatened to turn you over to Marko if we didn’t pull you out and pay her fifty thousand euro.”
Olivia’s blood pressure rose.
“And you didn’t call it off?”
“Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I thought she was bluffing. I couldn’t give up on the most filthy, prolific slave trafficker in all of Europe for her.”
“How could you have sent me in there knowing she could blow my cover?”
“I agonized over that decision, and it still haunts me. But I had to make the call. I didn’t think she was serious. I thought you were safe.”
Olivia’s throat tightened.
“You used me,” she said.
“I did my job. I made the tough decision.”
“With my body. It wasn’t your decision to make.”
“I know it was horrible, but you took down a tyrant. You spared hundreds, maybe thousands of women — girls — from lives of bondage.”
“You succeeded. You were promoted. I was raped.”
“You’re strong enough to put it behind you, and you have a brilliant career ahead of you. I’ll see to it that you receive due credit for what you’ve already done with Slate and Renard.”
“I can’t believe you used me,” she said
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”
“Gerry,” she said, “I need to know… Jean-Claude. Did he know she had threatened you?”
“I’m sure he didn’t. He was — I hate to say it for a pimp — but he was honest.”
She watched moonlight shimmer on the Rhône and reflected that she was a stalwart judge of character. She would never doubt her instincts again, she decided.
“You lied,” she said. “My instincts with Jean-Claude were right.”
“Look, you’re understandably distraught. I’ll have Robert—”
She hung up, hurled the phone into the river, and screamed at the top of her lungs.
Fighting back tears, she put her helmet on and jumped onto her bright blue Kawasaki. To drown out her sniffling, she gunned the engine. She released the clutch, ripped through the gears, and sped through the gate into the city.
She rode through the streets of Avignon toward Jake’s apartment. Cobblestones shook her arms as she turned toward his garage. She parked on the street, dropped her helmet, and trotted to his door.
Her fist hit his door in frantic repetition until it creaked open. His hair disheveled and his face puffy with sleep, Jake greeted her in a raspy voice.
“Olivia,” he said, “what’s wrong, honey?”
She wanted to say something without compromising her cover to let him know how much she needed someone to trust, but she couldn’t find the words.
She collapsed in his arms and cried.
CHAPTER 16
Jake helped Olivia to a chair.
“I’ll get you some tissues,” he said.
Expecting a quivering mess upon his return from his basement bathroom, Jake instead found Olivia pacing.
“You still want these?” he asked.
She grabbed the tissue box, blew her nose, and lowered the box to an end table.
“I need you to trust me,” she said.
“I’ll do what I can.”
“We need to get out of here.”
“We’re leaving in three hours,” he said.
“I mean now.”
“Why?” he asked.
“That’s where I need you to trust me.”
“Only if you tell me what’s going on.”
She murmured to herself, and Jake started to worry.
“I just have a bad feeling about staying in Avignon tonight,” she said. “Can we just hit the road?”
“Why were you crying?”
“Panic attack,” she said. “I’ve been having them for a while. Can we go?”
“You’re too strong to freak out for no reason. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She sighed, slid her arms around his neck, and tilted her head into his chest.
“If we leave now, we can watch the sun rise on our way to Lyon,” she said. “That would be so romantic.”
“Don’t play games with me.”
“Fine,” she said. “Can you just trust me then? I’ve had an emotional night, and I want to leave now. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“Okay,” Jake said. “My stuff’s already packed on my bike. Do we need to go by your place?”
“No. Let’s go.”
A black gas tank swallowed the glow from Olivia’s brake light. Jake inhaled the scent of gasoline and rubber and lifted his gear shifter with his toe. Coasting towards the intersection, he saw the red glow intensify and stood on his brake lever.
He protested into his wireless helmet-to-helmet communications system.
“Why’d you stop?”
“Cops at the gate,” Olivia said.
“It’s a walled city,” Jake said. “They hang out at gates, or would you rather have them looking for bad guys tunneling in and out?”
She dipped her helmet, and her body slumped.
“It’s a check point,” she said. “I’m sure they’re set at every gate tonight.”
Jake could no longer tolerate her irrationality. He parked his bike, slipped his helmet off, and stepped to Olivia. He yanked her arm.
“All of a sudden you bawl your eyes out, and now you’re afraid of cops. What the hell’s going on?”
As she removed her helmet, a tear dripped from her chin and splashed on the gas tank.
“Crying isn’t going to work anymore,” he said. “If you don’t start talking, I’ll drag you to those cops.”