“So his answer to the problem is to abandon us?”
“Not abandon. Distance. He’s always had someone keeping watch over you. And he left you the beach house so you’d be more secure financially.”
Alex huffed. “Because money’s so important to us. What about how we feel?”
“The colonel felt your safety was worth the trade-off.”
“Pardon me if I disagree.”
“He knows he hurt you, Alex. He isn’t proud of that fact. But he felt he had no choice. The people who set him up are as ruthless as they are thorough. And they wouldn’t just threaten to kill you in exchange for his cooperation. They would happily strap you or your brother to a table and torture you for weeks on end. And Danny’s…innocence would mean nothing to them.”
“What the hell has he gotten himself into?” she asked.
“I think you can probably answer that question yourself.”
She had certainly wondered about it enough times. She remembered the change in him after her mother was killed, but she’d been too busy dealing with her own grief to fully appreciate his. He had seemed so stoic at the time, but she knew now he must have been hurting deeply, and that hurt had been part of why he had withdrawn in those later days. And why he had so suddenly disappeared.
He was looking for her mother’s killers. What else could it be?
But what had he done that caused him to be branded a traitor? That was a question she had asked herself at least a thousand times in the last decade. Was it something as simple as stealing and sharing classified intelligence about the incident?
Or had our own government been involved?
After the way the op in Istanbul went down, she had to wonder.
Had the people who set off the bomb in that Lebanon cafe been working for us?
And, if so, why?
She looked at Gérard. “How much do you know about my mother’s murder?”
“Only what your father has told me. Which is very little. He’s very much a lone wolf, and he shares only what he feels he needs to.”
“Are you the one who planted those photos in my storage shed?”
Gérard’s eyelids flickered. “Photos? What photos?”
She was surprised he didn’t know. “I told you, someone broke into the house. I think whoever it was left behind some photos of my mother, hoping I’d find them. That’s why I was so upset when I came to the bar that night. Right before you and your friend played your prank on the beach.”
Gérard looked embarrassed. “That was foolish of me. A misguided attempt to gain your trust.”
“It got you a lot more than that, didn’t it?”
“I’m so sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean for it to go that far. But you must admit there’s a chemistry between us. We both feel it.”
He reached to take her hand, but she pulled it away. “You think far too much of yourself, Thomas. A moment of lust doesn’t qualify as anything more than that. And I frankly wish it hadn’t happened. Especially now.”
“I’m sorry to hear you say that.”
“And I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but what do you expect? You’re a professional liar. You lied to insinuate yourself into my life and you help others lie about who they are. My father may be a good man, but he’s the exception, isn’t he? Most of the people you help deserve to be locked up.”
He started to say something but she cut him off.
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear any excuses or rationalizations. You are what you are. But explain to me — why the real estate ruse? Why not come to me directly and tell me my father sent you?”
“The ruse was his idea,” Gérard said.
“Why?”
He hesitated. “Because of your involvement with Stonewell.”
“What’s that got to do with any of this?”
“Surely you know that Stonewell has been after the colonel for years. They almost caught him in France shortly before they recruited you. And it’s the recruitment that concerns him.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because Stonewell isn’t to be trusted. While he was buoyed by your contact with El-Hashim and your close encounter in London, he held back when he realized you had been followed. And he can’t be certain of how much animosity you might harbor toward him.”
Alex was taken aback. “He doesn’t trust me?”
“The colonel doesn’t trust anyone completely. Not even me.”
Alex felt as if she’d been stabbed in the heart. She had risked her life to find her father and he still didn’t trust her? But her rational mind understood his reasoning. She had every right to hate him, and he had no way of knowing her real motive for joining Stonewell. For all he knew, she was plotting to help capture him.
“He wanted me to approach you carefully,” Gérard said, “and he thought the offer to buy the house would be a way in.”
“So he’s your mysterious client.”
Gérard nodded.
“Do you know where he is now?”
“No. He’s constantly on the move. We communicate through encrypted text messages only, and I haven’t heard from him in several days.”
“And you’re sure you didn’t plant those photographs?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“What about my mother’s wedding video? Do you know anything about that?”
He spread his hands. “I’m afraid I’m at a loss.”
Strange, she thought. Then who had left them? And why?
“What does all this have to do with Eric Hopcroft?” she asked. “It can’t be a coincidence you contacted me only a few days before McElroy showed up.”
“A man once said that chance is the nickname of providence.”
“Skip the bullshit and just tell me.”
Gérard smiled. “One of your father’s government contacts alerted him about the call between Favreau and Reinhard Beck. And when Stonewell was mentioned in connection to a possible recovery effort, he correctly deduced that because of your connection to Eric Hopcroft, they would involve you somehow.”
“How could he know that?”
“He wasn’t sure, of course, but he once worked with the man who initiated this mission and knows how he operates.”
“And who is this guy?”
Gérard shook his head. “I don’t know his real name, but people call him Mr. Gray. But that isn’t important. All that matters is that your father was correct and you’re here at the right place and time.”
“For what?”
“To do what he’s been trying to do for the last several years.”
“And that is?”
Gérard pinned her with his gaze. “Kill Eric Hopcroft.”
Alex wasn’t sure what made her do it.
Maybe it was instinct, or the fury returning, or the simple audacity of the words themselves. But before she could stop herself, she lunged across the table and knocked Gérard backward in his chair, sending coffee cups flying as she planted him on the ground.
The next thing she knew, hands were grabbing at her — Gérard’s thugs jerking her away from him.
“Who the hell are you?” she spat as Gérard climbed to his feet. “My father would never send me a message like that.”
Gérard calmly straightened his clothes and hair. “You know him so well, do you?”
Another stab to the heart. “I know that much. He’s not that kind of man.”
Gérard turned, and saw other patrons and the waitstaff staring at him and Alex in dismay. He seemed genuinely embarrassed and quickly produced several bills from his wallet, offering them to their waiter and pouring on the charm. “I’m so sorry about this. Please forgive us.” He gestured to his men. “Let her go.”