“My family donated those three framed pieces by fifteenth-century artists.” She pointed at each one hung on the stone walls.
“From the smell of bacon, eggs, and breads baking, I’m thinking this was a great idea.” Carlos took the last couple steps until he reached the floor. “How is it everyone here isn’t overweight?”
“Exercise classes are required.” She stopped next to him, scanning the room. She inhaled the aroma of rich sauces billowing in the air, waking her salivary glands. Tonight she would have cassoulet, practically the national meal in France.
“What’s protocol here?” he asked.
“We choose a table and they bring us food.”
She led the way with Carlos at her side and had almost given up finding one of the teens when she saw a redheaded boy sitting alone at a round table.
“There’s Joshua,” she said under her breath. “I’ll ask if we can share his table.” She waited while Carlos considered her suggestion. Would he trust her to make contact with the teen?
“Okay.”
She enjoyed a surge from the confidence he was placing in her and moved toward Joshua.
“May we share your table?” she asked the boy.
He lifted his head. Freckles marched across his blunt nose. Eyes too sad to be a child’s stared out from under a shock of golden red hair. He ate with perfect manners, only his right hand in sight.
“Sure.” Joshua stared fleetingly at her and Carlos. “Are you new teachers?”
“No, we’re guests.” Gabrielle smiled, hoping he’d warm up to her. “I’m installing a new computer program.” She searched for a common interest. “I was a student here once.”
Joshua said nothing while they settled and a waiter took their orders, then brought them coffee and tea. Joshua glanced around as though looking for someone or to see if someone was watching him.
“Have you been here long?” Gabrielle added honey to her tea, keeping her tone casual.
“Not long.”
“Where does your family live?”
“America. My dad is a congressman in the United States.”
Gabrielle caught herself listening to the inflection in his words. He sounded as though he was reciting information, his answers so quick and automatic.
“Is this your first time in France?” Gabrielle smiled, trying to think of more mundane questions that would not frighten him off. This had seemed simpler when she came up with the idea of trying to find the teens.
“Yes, my first time. I love the country. The school is excellent.” He stopped abruptly as though that was the end of the answer. He was clearly nervous.
“I know some people in Congress,” Carlos said while buttering a croissant. “Who’s your dad?”
Joshua was stark white. He glanced at Gabrielle, who couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous.
“I’m going to be late,” Joshua muttered. “Please excuse me.” He stood up, lifting the still half-full plate, and turned to leave. That’s when she saw his left arm. A prosthetic forearm and hand he used awkwardly, favoring his right side.
“Thank you for allowing us to sit with you,” she told him, and he said something she couldn’t hear, then hurried away.
She turned to Carlos. “I feel bad asking him questions. I think we terrified him. He didn’t even eat his meal.”
“Something was off with him and I don’t think it was just us.” Carlos leaned forward and spoke low. “Now I understand even less how the kids factor into all this.”
“I don’t either.” She kept an eye on the half of the room she could see behind Carlos and finished her omelet.
She wasn’t very good at this investigation thing and had to try harder if she was ever going to find a way to prevent going back to the States yet.
“There’s Evelyn three tables away,” Carlos said softly, his gaze caught on someone past Gabrielle’s shoulder. “She’s talking on her cell phone and stacking her food like she’s ready to leave.”
Swinging around slowly, Gabrielle took in the room from the corner of her eye. “Got her.” Another chance to find out something, but she wasn’t exactly sure what she needed to ask.
Carlos placed his napkin on the table. “Let’s go.”
She was up and moving with him. They were ten tables away from where Evelyn sat with two more female students. Evelyn wore narrow, rectangle glasses with tortoiseshell rims, so distinct against her pale skin and light brown hair bobbed short.
Gabrielle’s attention was snagged by an attractive woman with short blond hair wearing an aqua-colored pants suit approaching from the other direction. She appeared to be in her midthirties and moved with an athletic grace.
As they neared Evelyn’s table, the blonde slowed and stepped behind Evelyn, who swung around and smiled.
But Gabrielle recognized the smile on Evelyn’s face as a practiced one they all seemed to have as teens in a school full of strangers. A polite smile taught from the moment she could understand the word protocol and what family duty meant.
Gabrielle slowed her pace so they wouldn’t pass the table before Evelyn was ready to leave.
“That confirms her,” Carlos murmured when the blonde lifted a sweater draped over the back of Evelyn’s chair and helped her put it on.
Evelyn was in a wheelchair. The blonde maneuvered Evelyn’s wheelchair between tables, but something on the metal chair caught on a tablecloth and yanked the linen. Glasses tumbled.
Carlos stepped forward and broke out a smile packed full of charm. “Let me give you a hand.” He squatted down and unhooked the cloth.
The blond assistant’s eyes narrowed in concern then impatient acceptance.
Not the usual female response to Carlos.
When he finished disengaging the chair, the blonde lifted a perfunctory smile and thanked him before Carlos backed out of her way.
Gabrielle looked at Carlos, who moved away as though pulling back. In fact, he turned to walk away from the woman and Evelyn, tilting his head to tell Gabrielle to go, too.
“Hi, I’m Gabrielle Saxe.” She ignored Carlos’s frown and stepped toward the blonde. “I’m working in the IT department.”
A twinge of annoyance creased the woman’s forehead before she broke out a practiced smile of her own. “I’m Kathryn Collupy and this is Evelyn. Nice to meet you.”
She’d given that with the clipped precision of rank and serial number in a British accent that didn’t sound natural.
Mon Dieu, Gabrielle wished she were better at this. She took a wide step and angled her head to speak to Evelyn. “I went to school here a long time ago so I’m enjoying meeting students. Is this your first year?”
“I’ve been here three months.” Evelyn’s hands were folded together in her lap, posture perfect. She had a blanket over her legs down to where the toes of brown leather shoes peeked out.
“Where are you from?” Gabrielle asked the teenager.
“Israel,” Evelyn answered. No enthusiasm for the conversation whatsoever.
Kathryn pushed her chair in the direction of the elevators.
Now what? Gabrielle mentally raced for something to keep the conversation going as she fell into step with Kathryn.
“Have you chosen an elective to study, something special you enjoy?” Gabrielle angled her head toward the student.
Evelyn didn’t answer, studying her hands in her lap.
Kathryn cleared her throat. “She plays the violin.” Then added, “Beautifully.”
Gabrielle smiled at Kathryn, who ignored it. “Really? I love the violin. When do you have music class, Evelyn? I’d love to come by and hear you play.” She was reaching for straws, but didn’t know what else to do since Kathryn never slowed her hurried pace.
“Evelyn can’t play this week,” Kathryn said. “Her violin is being restrung and having a minor repair. She plays only her instrument. Check the school bulletin for her next recital date.”
Gabrielle knew when she was being dismissed, but Mirage would never have become so well-known if she hadn’t been tenacious about gaining information.
“Where are you from, Kathryn?”
Evelyn’s assistant stopped in front of the elevator bank and pressed the button quickly. “I’ve lived all over Europe. My father’s job required we move often.”
“Really? What does he do?” Gabrielle smiled brightly in spite of the tension building from Kathryn.
The elevator doors swooshed open and Gabrielle could swear Kathryn released a breath she’d been holding. “Please excuse us. I don’t want Evelyn to be late.”
Carlos walked up as the doors hushed shut. “What do you think?”
“I need to get to the IT center.” Gabrielle couldn’t tell him more right now, but both teens had acted withdrawn and nervous. What was Kathryn Collupy’s story? Gabrielle wanted to dig into Collupy’s file while she still had access with no one bothering her.
Eyes taking in everything around them first, Carlos tilted his head to the left, instructing her silently to go. He didn’t say a word while she led the way to the IT center.
Where LaCrosse was waiting for her in the hallway next to the glass observation windows.
TWENTY
BONJOUR, GABRIELLE.”
“And good morning to you, Monsieur LaCrosse.” She hoped her smile didn’t appear as stiff and plastic as it felt. The IT staff moved with purpose, intent on their individual jobs on the other side of the glass window next to where she stood in the hallway.
Aviator sunshades in place and arms crossed, Carlos was doing his tough-guy bodyguard routine.
She wanted to smile when LaCrosse cast a wary gaze at Carlos and murmured, “Monsieur.”
Carlos gave him a half nod of acknowledgment. No smile.
She did love how Carlos intimidated this group that had made her quake in her sneakers as a teenager, but LaCrosse was only a threat when it came to falling grades. He expected excellence and cared only about the future of his students.
“I understand you are making good progress.” LaCrosse’s shoulders were tense, much like the muscles in his drawn face. More worry creased his forehead than yesterday. Was the chancellor pressing him to get her out of there quicker?
“Yes, I’m pleasantly surprised by how well this is going.” She infused that with a casualness she sure as the devil didn’t feel. “I think it’s a testament to the exceptional job your IT team has been doing. I see many of the suggestions I’ve made in past resource articles instituted here.”
His squared shoulders lifted with pride. The lines in his face relaxed. “That is excellent news. I’ll leave you to your work.” He dropped a curt nod and backed around, walking away.
As she started to move past Carlos to enter the IT center, he said, “Wait a minute.” Several of the staff working on the other side of the glass window behind him had paused a moment ago to watch the exchange between her and LaCrosse.
The students were just as interested in her and Carlos.
He spoke softly, barely moving his lips. “Smile like you’re happy to hear what I’m telling you.”
She did, keeping her eyes on his face.
“Be very careful today,” Carlos warned. “Don’t take any chances. LaCrosse is clearly catching heat from someone.” Carlos’s shaded gaze dropped to her face.
“I will, but something was odd about the teens and that Kathryn Collupy. Evelyn seemed to wait for her assistant to speak for her. I want to see Kathryn’s file.”
Carlos’s mouth tightened. “Like I said, just be careful. I don’t trust LaCrosse one bit.”
CARLOS HELD THE door for Gabrielle to enter their suite ahead of him. She looked over her shoulder, waiting as he’d instructed. Once he had his psuedo-iPod in place to interfere with the bug, he gave her the nod to start talking.
“I can’t find anything new on the teens. But Kathryn Collupy is interesting. I found a memo on her. She was just recently approved as a replacement assistant for Evelyn only because Kathryn was already on the approved list to start here as a physical-therapy instructor later this year. When Evelyn’s last assistant quit without notice, the school asked Kathryn to fill in for sixty days.”
Carlos scratched his jaw. “Based on what you’ve said about this group’s security clearance, that doesn’t seem too odd.”
“No, but what does is that Evelyn’s last assistant quit so abruptly after four years together. I sent a message to Gotthard so he could research her. He’d left me a message in the data vault to go ahead and finish the installation, which I did. He said Joe sent instructions to you. What do we do next?”
Carlos hadn’t been looking forward to this at all. “Joe wants us back in the U.S.” He’d been dreading this moment when he had to really decide if he was going to hand her over to Joe and Interpol.
“What?” Her excitement deflated like an abandoned party balloon. “You’re kidding. We don’t have anything firm yet.
“Don’t do this, Carlos.” She backed up a step. “Do you really believe he’s going to let me go free?”
No, worse. Unless Carlos came up with something to negotiate with-and right now they had squat-Joe was going to hand her over to Interpol, the International Criminal Police Organization supported by over 180 countries and located in France. Only the United Nations was more powerful.
“I’ll take your silence to mean you either don’t believe him or can’t tell me.” She walked away, then turned around, disappointment pouring off her. “Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”
She was killing him. “You’ve done a great job, but-” He had a duty. That had never sounded so cold in his head.
“Then don’t take me out of the picture to sit somewhere waiting for God knows how long until someone decides my fate. I don’t believe Joe is going to release me.” Her voice went up a notch with her fear.