She didn’t admire them now. His intuitiveness was striking too close to home. He had brought the Wind Dancer out of the darkness into the light.
She could handle it. Crush down the panic. If she wasn’t strong enough, she would concentrate, learn, and develop.
She only hoped she had enough time.
9
Lyon
“Don’t answer it,” Danielle Claron said.
The doorbell rang again. Henri started for the door.
“Don’t be a fool,” she told him.
“If it’s van der Beck, I’d be a fool not to answer it. We’ve already discussed this, Danielle. We need to leave Lyon, and I’ve no intention of leaving it a pauper.”
“You’d rather leave it in a hearse?”
“Haven’t I always taken care of you? During these last ten years you’ve never lacked food on the table, but now we have a chance to live the way we deserve to.”
“I’m the one who gave you that chance. And I’m telling you that you shouldn’t—”
The bell rang again.
“Very well, answer it. But be careful.” Danielle moistened her lips. “We should never have gotten caught up in this. We didn’t need that extra money.”
“You never complained before. This is no different, only bigger. Now leave me to bargain.”
She moved toward the bedroom. “Believe me, I’ve no desire to be here.”
“That’s good. You’re too transparent. I saw van der Beck watching you when he was—” He suddenly tensed as he looked through the peephole. It wasn’t van der Beck. This man was tall, fair-haired, powerfully built, and only in his late thirties.
“Yes?”
“Monsieur Claron?” The man smiled. “My name is Jacques Lebrett. I’ve been sent by Jan van der Beck. I have something for you.”
“Why didn’t he come himself ?”
“He’s a busy man. I believe he told you he might send someone?”
Van der Beck had mentioned the possibility, but Claron was still uneasy. “Tell van der Beck if he wants to have the—”
“He’s involved in some very delicate negotiations.” Lebrett flipped open his briefcase and held it up so that it was visible through the peephole. “But he’s not too busy to furnish you with suitable funds for your information.”
Money. Stacks and stacks of francs. He’d never seen so much.
“Can we talk, Monsieur Claron?”
So much money . . .
Henri unlocked and threw open the door. “Come in.”
“Thank you.” The man smiled. “I’m sure we can come to terms.”
The wife had escaped.
No problem. Edward Deschamps had disabled the car in the driveway and the house was miles from the road. Henri Claron had died too easily, but tracking his wife down would be a challenge. He had needed this kill. He had been on the hunt for Travis too long, and that made him edgy. When the need for removing the Clarons had become clear, he had eagerly leapt at the chance.
Deschamps washed the bloody knife, carefully wiped his fingerprints from the sink, then did a pass around the house. Not that these precautions would do much good. Forensic tests made it very difficult for a man to do his job these days. Yet he still did as he’d been taught as a boy. Habits were hard to break.
He left the house and scanned the yard and surrounding woods. Which way would she go? The fields that eventually led to the highway?
No, the woods. She’d think she could hide in the trees.
But he would find her. This was the game in which he excelled. He’d known that Claron would open the door. Money was always the key. Several authentic bills on top and paper below and the man had thought he was rich. What a fool.
He went down the steps into the farmyard, flicked his lighter, and lit the taper he’d brought with him. He tossed the taper on the gasoline-soaked boards of the porch.
The house exploded in flames.
“Henri Claron is dead,” van der Beck said.
“What?” Travis’s hand tightened on his phone. “How?”
“His house burned to the ground, but the police think he was dead before the fire started. They haven’t found his wife yet.”
“She escaped?”
“Maybe. But if she did, she dug a hole and isn’t going to come out.”
“If she’s alive, I need to know where she is. You said she was as nervous as her husband. There’s a good chance she knew what he knew. Or maybe more.”
“You think she’s going to risk getting her throat cut after what happened to Henri?”
“Sometimes fear or revenge is a greater spur than money. Try to find her, Jan.”
“I’ve already started.” He paused. “Yesterday I found two bugs in my apartment. They weren’t there three days ago, when I made my last check.”