their freedom. Instead, you are willing to go along to care for our young friend in the back seat. Are you afraid?” He knew she was terrified, but he also knew she would never admit it.
“Of course I am afraid,” she confessed, surprising him. “Only a fool would not fear you. I saw what you did to that guard.”
“I could easily have killed him,” Jack said in a slightly defensive tone.
“I know,” she replied, not quite hiding a shiver.
He could see that that thought relieved her only a little. “You need not worry about rape, either,” he told her. “I believe I can restrain my animal instincts.”
She tried to cover her relief with a mirthless laugh. “I have offended you by thinking you might?”
“Do you care whether I am offended?”
She didn’t bother to answer. Jack knew she cared. She had to worry if she had made him angry, that he might change his mind and show her who was boss here.
“You’re safe with me,” he said, and meant it, too. Not just about his leaving her alone physically. He felt a need to protect her, even from the worry she must be feeling at the moment.
For an instant he considered stopping the car in the next village they reached and letting her go. Bad idea, and he couldn’t imagine why he had even thought of doing it. There was the mission to consider, and she was crucial to the success of it. Without her help, the plan would fall apart before it got underway.
That had been the point of waiting until the doctor was with the boy to take him. The problem was that her father had eagerly agreed to help with this. The man had experience in this sort of enterprise, had worked with intelligence before. The daughter had no clue what was going on.
“We’ll have to lie low for a day,” he said, knowing she would assume the police would be giving chase. There would be no all-points bulletin on them, of course. Holly Amberson could take care of that with a few choice phone calls and a bit of hacking with her magic laptop.
“Open the glove compartment and get the phone,” he commanded.
After eyeing him with suspicion for a few seconds, she complied. He took it from her before she could punch in any numbers and pressed the precoded digit.
When Holly answered, he kept his message brief and to the point. “We have a substitute. See that Dr. Solange Micheaux is officially listed on emergency leave. Arrange for someone to handle her duties and cover for her. Her father is an accident victim, a patient at Broussais. Check on his condition.” He paused. “And make sure it really was an accident.”
Amberson did not waste words either. “So we are still on?”
“Unless the mission is compromised. Are things all set at your end?”
“Right on schedule,” she replied.
That meant word would soon be out that the son of Ahmed Chari had escaped Baumettes Prison with a little help from a fellow inmate. This way, Chari probably would not be surprised by his son’s arrival if he heard about the escape on the news. The police would not bother to question Chari. They would be informed there was evidence that his son and his accomplices had left the country immediately.
Jack would use the downtime to become better acquainted with the doctor and determine whether she could be trusted with the truth or if she should go in blind.
Taking her in her father’s stead bothered him. It shouldn’t. She was just one person, expendable in the big scheme of things. The big scheme here was to save lives. Many of them. If sacrifices were necessary to accomplish that, then he would just have to live with it.
Solange realized she had dozed when the car stopped. She ran her hands through her hair and shook off her grogginess. How on earth had she managed to fall sleep in such a predicament as this?
Before she fell asleep, she had been marking their route visually. They had headed north from Lyon, with the central highlands to their left and the Swiss Alps to their right. Vineyards and fruit orchards lined their way along the wide path cut by nature.
When she looked out now, there were no landmarks or identifying characteristics on the eerie, moonlit landscape. He might have changed direction entirely. They could be anywhere in France by now.
“We’ll stay here for the night.”
She looked at the man who had kidnapped her, then out the window again. “Would you tell me where we are?”
“A safe place,” he replied cryptically.
He got out, opened the back door and gently lifted René in his arms. Solange hopped out quickly and hovered, cautioning him to be careful not to jostle her patient any more than he could help.
The night was chilly for mid-May, but that was not what caused her to shiver. She rubbed her arms briskly.
“Look under the mat there and find the key,” he ordered, his voice curt.
She hurried to find it and unlock the door to the old house, feeling for the keyhole with trembling fingers. What would happen once they were inside?
Where was this place? The moon was high enough that she could see they were not in a town or village. In fact, she could see no other buildings except this old cottage they were entering.
Could this man be intending to hold René here for ransom? And, if so, what would happen to her? If René remained unconscious during all this, he could not identify his kidnapper. But she could. Perhaps she would live only so long as René needed her.
If she found an opportunity, she would escape. Then she could go to the police and have them rescue René.
“There should be an oil lamp and matches on the table. Careful you don’t knock it off and break it,” he said, moving farther into the main room.
She heard the rustle of movement as she discovered by feel the lamp and a box of matches where he had said they would be. She struck fire and lifted the old-fashioned globe.
When she had adjusted the flame, Solange carried it over to where he had laid René on a shabby, but comfortable-looking couch.
“See to him. I’ll go and get your medical bag,” Mercier told her.
“Is there water in here or must we go outside to draw it?” she asked.
“Running water. The bath is off the hallway. Kitchen’s through that door,” he said pointing.
She knelt beside the couch and began checking René’s pulse. It felt steady and strong enough. He breathed normally and seemed to be quite comfortable. She lifted his lids and examined his pupils in the lamp light. A crocheted afghan lay draped over the foot of the couch and she used that to cover him against the chill of the room.
Mercier returned quickly and handed her the bag. “How is he doing?”
“No worse than he was.”
“His pain was severe enough for morphine?”
She hesitated. “First answer me
