Final Target

  Galen nodded. “I can see your point. She definitely doesn’t want you going after the Wind Dancer.”

  “She’ll have to get used to the idea.” Travis leaned back against the doorjamb. “Have you been able to finalize it?”

  “I had a man contact Paul Guilliame, the assistant curator of the museum. He’s known to be open to bribes.”

  “The Wind Dancer is a little different.”

  “But Guilliame’s frailty of character should hold us in good stead if the money’s enough and the presentation is right.” He smiled. “And my presentation is always right.”

  “There’s something else I need you to do.”

  Galen gazed at him quizzically.

  “I think I know the man who killed Jan. He certainly knew me. He wanted me dead, not Jan.”

  “You recognized his face?”

  He shook his head. “The eyes were vaguely familiar. Green, slanted a little . . . but he had a fake beard.”

  “So what do you want from me?”

  “Find someone to break into Interpol’s computer banks for me. I need to look at mug shots.”

  “Unless you have a starting place, it could take you the next fifty years to go through that many records.”

  Travis knew that, but he had to begin somewhere. “Then it will take me fifty years. Just get me the hacker.”

  Galen nodded. “I can’t promise to deliver him by the time we get to Paris, but I’ll find someone.”

  “Good.” It wasn’t good. He couldn’t see much good in anything right now. Jan . . .

  “Do you want to talk about him?” Galen asked quietly. “Sometimes it helps.”

  Travis shook his head. “He’s dead.” His lips twisted. “There’s nothing to say.”

  “It’s not your fault. Jan’s been in the business a long time. He knew what he was doing.”

  “I know that.”

  “But you’re alive and your friend is dead.” Galen shrugged. “Tough. But deal with it.”

  “I am. Just get me the hacker.”

  “Consider it done. I’ve just thought of a man who might be able to do it. Stuart Thomas. He’s a little weird, but there’s nothing he doesn’t know about computers.” His phone rang and he answered it.

  He listened for a moment and then hung up. “I think we’ve got Guilliame. He’ll take the statue out of the display case to a room in the back on the pretext of having it cleaned. He says there will have to be guards at the door or it will look suspicious. He knows a couple who will look the other way for a price.”

  “And the price?”

  “Total? It’s gone up. Two million. Pretty high for four hours with a bloody statue. I can bargain.”

  “No time.”

  “You have the money?”

  “I have something to barter with.”

  “ Worth two million?”

  “I think Guilliame will agree. Karlstadt did.”

  “You’re going to use the merchandise you promised Karlstadt?” He gave a low whistle. “That could be dangerous.”

  “I’ll worry about that later.”

  “You may have to worry about it sooner.”

  “Screw him. It could have been Karlstadt who killed Jan.”

  “But you’re not sure.”

  “No, I’m not sure of anything right now.” He met Galen’s gaze and repeated, “Screw him.”

  “Far be it from me to interfere with a man bent on revenge. I’ve found reason usually goes out the window.” He turned away. “We should be in Paris by midnight.”

  “Hire more men,” Deschamps said as soon as Provlif picked up the phone. “And don’t talk to me about money. I have all the money you could possibly want. Now find Cassie Andreas.”

  “She may not be here to find.”

  “What?”

  “My CIA contact says there are rumors she’s been taken by your old friend Travis.” He launched into the explanation.

  Deschamps was silent for a moment after Provlif finished. “Highly unlikely.”

  “The President flew back to Washington from Japan claiming he was ill. Andreas is healthy as a horse.”

  The more Deschamps thought about it, the more he was inclined to believe the rumor. Travis had never mentioned the child in his conversations with van der Beck, but Andreas could have trusted him enough to ask him to help his daughter. And Travis was sharp enough to have been able to pull off the escape. Excitement began to surge through him. Everything was coming full circle back to him. Travis, and now perhaps the child.

  “Deschamps?”

  “It could be true.”

  “Why would he take the kid?”

  For the same reason Edward had wanted her? It was possible. Maybe Travis’s interference at Vasaro had been merely a setup for a move of his own.

  “I want Travis’s phone number.”

  “I’ve been trying to get it.”

  “Try harder. You know damn well the CIA knows it if Travis was at this place in Virginia.”

  “I told you they weren’t able to trace his calls.”

  “I don’t want to trace them. But I may want to talk to him.”

  “I’ll work on it.”

  “Do it. Then get on a plane and come back here. I may need you.” He hung up and sat back in his chair. He wanted that phone number. He felt a strange need to be in contact with Travis. It had never happened before with any of his other targets, but Travis was different. Travis had humiliated him, and taking the money from him wasn’t enough. And this new information showed Travis as still another danger. He was not only a threat, he was competition. Yes, he wanted to savor this kill, toy with Travis, show him he would always be one step ahead.

  What would that next step be? If Travis was as hot as Provlif thought, he should be hiding out. But Edward had killed his friend and Travis was sentimental enough to want revenge. To do that he would have to identify and then locate Edward. The only lead Travis had was Henri Claron’s death, and it was likely he would pursue it.

  So, Lyon?

  Perhaps.

  Or perhaps not.

  Travis had been robbed of the money he’d been expecting, and keeping Cassie Andreas hidden could be an expensive proposition. He might decide it was necessary to go forward toward his prime objective.

  Edward would definitely have to go over everything he’d learned about Travis and then just follow his instincts. . . .

  Paris

  The modest apartment was on the outskirts of Paris near a small, very green park. It was also four blocks from the Museum d’Andreas.

  “Nice.” Galen put the suitcases down and glanced around the living room. “Old-fashioned, but very comfortable. Maybe a little too much blue. Blue may be a primary color, but I’ve always found it depressing.”

  “It’s okay. We won’t be here long enough to be depressed.” Travis carried Cassie into the bedroom and put her down before turning to Jessica. “She hasn’t had a nightmare since we left Juniper. That’s good, right?”

  “Do you want me to tell you kidnapping her is good therapy?” she asked dryly. “I won’t do it, Travis.”

  “ Well, it hasn’t hurt her.”

  “Yet.” Melissa came into the room, deposited a suitcase and Jessica’s medical bag by the radiator under the window. Then she went into the adjoining bathroom and slammed the door.

  Jessica made a face. “She’s right, you know. I don’t know what long-term effect this will all have on Cassie.”

  “I can’t help that.” He tried to keep the edge from his voice. “I’m doing the best I can.” He went out into the living room to see Galen heading for the front door. “Where’s Stuart Thomas?”

  “In the apartment across the hall. He likes his privacy. Believe me, you don’t want him too close. When he gets involved in a project, he thinks things like showering and brushing his teeth are a waste of time.”

  “And is he involved in this project?”

  “On a small scale. If you’d asked him to break into top-secr
et Pentagon records, it would have been more interesting for him.” He opened the door. “I’ll go check on him.”

  “ I’ll go with you.”

  “No, you won’t. You’re too tense and I won’t have Stuart upset. Besides, it’s after midnight. Get some sleep. You can see him in the morning.”

  “I don’t need—” He stopped as he met Galen’s steady gaze. It would do no good. Galen had made up his mind and wouldn’t budge. “Wake me if Thomas has a breakthrough.”

  “In the morning.” The door shut behind him.

  Damn Galen.

  And thank God for Galen.

  “When are you going to take Cassie to the Wind Dancer?” Melissa stood across the room.

  “Two nights from now, after the museum closes. If all goes well.”

  “It won’t go well.” She walked to the window and stared out. “But you won’t listen to me, will you?”

  “I can’t listen to you.”

  “You’re hurt. Why don’t you wait until you’re better?”

  “As you pointed out, this is hardly a scratch. Not worth the time it took you to bandage it. Isn’t that right?”

  She was silent a moment. “Yes. I wish he’d killed you instead of your friend.”

  “Well, you’re out of luck.”

  “We may all be out of luck.” She paused. “I want you to get me a gun.”

  He stiffened. “ Why?”

  “I want to be able to defend myself. I’m not going to depend on you.” She smiled sardonically. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on shooting you, though it’s tempting.”

  “Do you even know how to use a gun?”

  “There were some rapes and assaults on campus a while back and my roommates and I got a little nervous. We took self-defense classes and I bought a Smith and Wesson .38 for the apartment. We all took lessons.”

  “Okay, I’ll have Galen get you one tomorrow morning.”

  “Good.” She started to go back to the bedroom but stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. He was surprised at the desperation in her expression. “I don’t want you dead. I don’t want anyone dead. Life is such a precious gift. Every minute should be treasured and—”

  “Do you think Cassie is enjoying her life? Jessica is doing whatever she can to make it better.” He wearily shook his head. “And I guess I am too.”

  “Jessica doesn’t understand. You don’t understand.” Her voice was filled with despair. “I can’t let you do it.”

  Travis stared thoughtfully at the door after she’d shut it behind her. The intensity of Melissa’s feelings was growing, and that could be dangerous.

  Jesus, he didn’t need this. All he wanted was to come through on his promise to Jessica and get on with finding Jan’s killer.

  Think about the man in the park. Go over every minute from the time he’d first seen him. He’d told Jan there was something familiar about him. What was familiar? Green eyes . . . But he hadn’t been close enough to see those eyes when he’d made that remark to Jan.

  He sat down on the couch. Think. Go over it. Make a connection.

  Washington, D.C.

  “Danley thinks he’s located Travis, Mr. President,” Keller said. “Well, not exactly located, but there was an incident in a park in Amsterdam yesterday. Jan van der Beck was murdered.”

  “By Travis?”

  “No, the assailant fled with Travis in pursuit. We believe Travis was wounded in the attack.”

  “Good,” Andreas said. “I wish the bastard had been skewered on a spit.”

  “Not until we find your daughter,” Keller said. “After that, we’ll be glad to accommodate you, Mr. President. Danley thinks they’ve also located a company in Antwerp that rented the van to transport your daughter. The timing is right. We’re getting closer, sir.”

  “Not close enough. I’m going to Amsterdam.”

  “That wouldn’t be wise.”

  “I’m going. Get Air Force One ready. That plane was built so that the President could run the country from it during an emergency. It’s going to be tested. Then get the doctor to say I’ve had a slight relapse and can’t leave my room. I’ll make an appearance on the balcony so that everyone will know I’m not on my deathbed.”

  “What about the First Lady?”

  Chelsea. She had been suspicious from the moment he had stepped off the plane from Tokyo. She knew him so well, they were too close for any deception to fool her for long.

  God, he didn’t want to tell her about Cassie.

  And he couldn’t not tell her if he took off for Amsterdam.

  He stood up. “I’ll go see her. We leave in an hour, Keller.”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  A few minutes later Andreas was opening the door to their private suite. She was lying in bed, working on her laptop.

  “Is that resting?”

  “I’m flat on my ass, aren’t I?” She gave him that radiant smile that had first captured his attention all those years ago. She was more beautiful now than she’d been that day.

  His love, his partner, his best friend . . .

  He came into the room. “I have something to tell you, Chelsea.”

  14

  “Piece of cake,” Stuart Thomas said. He stood up and gestured to the computer screen. “There you go, Mr. Travis. It’s all yours.”

  Thomas’s T-shirt was sweat stained and as unpleasant smelling as Galen had warned him, Travis realized. The idea of working in close contact with the kid was not appealing. “Why don’t you go get a meal? I’ll page you if I need you.”

  “You’re not going to find him just by browsing. What’s he supposed to have done?”

  “Murder.”

  “What kind of murder? Crime of passion, burglary, mercy killing? You’ve got to narrow it down if you want results.”

  “Let me work at it.”

  Thomas hesitated. “Then will you give me my money? I usually get paid half upfront and half when you say you’re through with me. I waived the first payment, since Galen is a good friend, but I really should have—”

  “How much?”

  “Five thousand.”

  “Wait here.” He left Thomas and went to the apartment across the hall.

  “Trouble?” Galen rose from a chair.

  “More an inconvenience. Thomas wants to be paid and I have a cash flow problem. Five thousand?”

  Galen shook his head. “I can get it by tonight.”

  “He wants it now. Never mind.” He went to his duffel and drew out his laptop, then opened the disk drive and took out a pouch. “You’ll have to use your powers of presentation and convince him to accept goods instead of cash.” He poured out half the contents of the pouch onto the coffee table.

  “Holy shit,” Galen murmured. “Diamonds?”

  Travis sorted through the gemstones. “Even the smallest of these will bring over five thousand dollars.”

  Galen was staring at the pile. “And you smuggled these in your laptop?”

  “It seemed a pretty good place as long as I wasn’t going to be frisked by airport security.”

  “So that’s why you hitched a ride on Air Force One.”

  He nodded. “I wasn’t about to risk losing these to customs after all I’d gone through to get them.”

  “Andreas won’t be pleased you used his plane for your own ends.”

  “At this stage of the game, he’d agree that smuggling is the least of my sins.” He picked up one of the stones. “I’m no expert, but I’d say this is pretty high quality.”

  “The best.”

  “Is that how you’re going to pay off that curator at the museum?” Melissa had come into the room, her gaze on the diamonds glittering on the coffee table. “They’re stolen, aren’t they?”

  “You might say that.”

  “And this is why your friend died?”

  “You might say that too.” He handed the first diamond he’d chosen to Galen. “Tell Thomas it’s bonus time. Any appraiser in Paris will tell him tha
t stone is worth twice what he asked me for.”

  “You can bet he’ll be hotfooting it to the diamond exchange to check it.”

  “No problem. It will pass any test they can put it through.” He separated the pile and gave one half to Galen. “For Guilliame. I’m sure he’ll want to check the merchandise before tonight.”

  “This has got to be worth more than the price he asked, Travis.”

  “Just give them to Guilliame and let’s get it over with.” He scooped the rest of the diamonds back in the pouch and stuffed the pouch in his duffel. “But I want a guarantee of those four hours or I’ll cut his heart out.”

  “What a true gentleman you are, Travis,” Melissa said.

  “I wasn’t gently reared on a southern plantation. I was taught to smooth the way with sugar but always have the knife handy.” He met her gaze. “You should appreciate that. You’re very good with the knife, Melissa.”

  “I’m getting better.”

  “I believe I’ll get out of here and go about my job,” Galen said. “It’s getting a little too chilly in here for me. I’ll let you know if there’s a problem, Travis.”

  “Right.” His gaze never left Melissa. “I have enough problems.”

  “That you have.”

  “No wonder you haven’t been worried about moving us around Europe like chess pieces,” Melissa said after Galen had left. “Money can open doors, can’t it?”

  “The doors of the Museum d’Andreas, at least.”

  “What if I tell Jessica that you’re using stolen money to help Cassie?”

  “We both know it won’t make any difference to her. She’d find a way to justify spending ill-gotten loot if it saved the kid.” He smiled. “But it would make her worry and feel bad. So you won’t tell her, will you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Nice try, Melissa.” He stood up. “Now I have to get back next door and do a little work. If you need anything, come and get me.”

  “Where’s Travis?” Jessica asked when she came into the kitchen ten minutes later.

  “Next door.” Melissa forced a smile. “I just made iced tea. Would you like some?”

  “Please.”

  “How’s Cassie?”

  “The same.” She sat at the table and rubbed her temple. “Jesus, I hope this Wind Dancer thing works out.”