Chapter Six

Caroline found that it wasn’t hard to pretend to be sick. She actually had been feeling a little queasy that morning anyway, and André’s revelations had caused her stomach to churn. Not as much as it had been churning when she had thought, at first, that he was leaving her, and then later, when she thought it had all been a set-up. She no longer doubted the honesty of his feelings for her, however it had started. They loved each other. That wasn’t in question, she reassured herself as she changed into her nightie and climbed up onto the bed.

She curled up under the covers and tried to clear her head. Images of her father, of the maid Rose, of herself laughing with Jon at the mere thought that he would make sexual advances to a woman, no - with Conrad, she corrected herself. Even his name was fake. She drew a deep, sobbing breath and pulled the edge of her pillow over her face.

The door opened, and she had to force herself to not cringe.

“What’s the matter, pet?” Jon asked, all concern as he approached the bed and sat down on it. He pulled the pillow away from her face.

“I’m just feeling sick,” she said, forcing herself to speak normally, to look at him. Her skin felt like it was made of concrete. “Like I’m going to be sick,” she amended, hoping that would account for the strained look she was sure on her face.

“Oh really,” Jon said, sounding interested. “And when was your period due, Carrie?”

“It’s late,” she admitted. “But not late enough yet to be sure.” Jon’s beautiful face lit up with a smile.

“You’re preggers,” he said confidently. “I just know it.” Excitedly, he bounced up and down on the bed, all joyful enthusiasm. Caroline really did feel sick. He was guilty of some of the most evil crimes imaginable, and he was bouncing about like an innocent child. She whimpered.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he said, immediately apologetic. “I’ll let you sleep. Do you want something? Dry toast? A cup of tea? Are you allowed tea? Perhaps some sort of herbal blend – or is that worse? I’m going to have to get some books on the subject. I’ll leave you to sleep, pet. I’m going to tell Robbie now.” To her relief, he headed for the door, but the relief was short-lived, because he rushed back to kiss her, once on either cheek, and once on her lips. As he left the room, Caroline closed her eyes and put her hand on her belly and mused that she’d just been kissed by a murderer.

“He’s not going to hurt us, baby,” she promised. “Your Daddy is going to catch him. We just have to be strong in the meantime.”

An hour later, there was a tap on the door and Carlos came in. He was a small, blonde man, with very pretty, almost feminine features. Obviously someone else Interpol had hand-picked to fit Jon’s exacting requirements.
”I’ve brought you some food,” he said quietly. “Most of it is bland, because André tells me you are expecting a baby.” He smiled as she sat up.

“Congratulations,” he said. “It may seem incongruous in the circumstances, but it is still good news. New life affirms that there is hope in this world.”

“Thank you,” she said, realising that she had never, ever heard him speak before. He had always gone about his duties silently.

“Jon Henderson does not know yet that André has gone,” he added. “He will probably come back to ask you if you know anything about his disappearance, so why don’t you eat that up and then get some sleep? You look tired.” So André was gone already. It hurt to know that he wasn’t close by any more. But she could deal with it. She had to. There was no way she was going to be able to go to sleep, though.

She woke in the middle of the night, turning instinctively towards him in her sleep. His hands were on her body, running over her breasts, squeezing lightly at her nipples. Her nightie was bunched up around her neck, which was odd, because she normally slept naked with André. She had nothing else on, though. One of his hands was between her legs, and there were no panties between his fingers and her. Which was odd, too, because she thought she’d put some on, for some reason.

André’s hands felt different, more urgent and rougher than usual. His big hands were always so sure and confident on her, so slow and thorough, but now, they were racing over her, as if to cover every bit of her as fast as possible. She opened her legs wider, to give him better access, then winced as a finger jabbed straight up inside her with no warning. And then she knew.

It wasn’t André. The hands were too small, the touch all wrong. Breathing heavily in panic, she shifted away from him, but his searching hands became restraining hands, holding her there.

“Stay still, pet,” Jon said. “Let me…”
”No,” she said. “Jon, don’t!” He was under the covers with her. She reached for the roll of her nightgown and tried to pull it down, but he roughly pushed it back up.
”No,” he said firmly. “Dammit, Carrie. It’s me. Stop tossing about.” His hands were moving on her again, over her breasts, between her legs, invading her, violating her. The hot bile of panic rose in her stomach.

“No, Jon!” she insisted, pushing at him. He moved over, smothering her struggles with his body. He was naked. She could feel his smooth body all the way down hers, the pressure of his erection against her thigh.

“Don’t fight me, Carrie,” he said. “You know you want this as much as I do. Just lie still, girl.” He sounded so normal, exasperated humour in his voice. “It’s not as if you can get pregnant again. There’s no need to get so worked up, pet.”

“Get off me!” she was struggling again, pushing frantically at his shoulders. She’d never been so scared in her life. Even if she hadn’t known what he was, what he’d done, she’d have fought him. But now that she did, acceptance of what he was forcing on her was out of the question.

“No,” he said. He kissed her, holding her chin firm with one of his hands and forcing her lips open with his tongue. “Stop fighting, you idiot. Or do you like it rough, Carrie? That’s okay. I can give you rough.” His finger stabbed into her again, and she cried out.

“You like that?” he asked in her ear. “You’re going to love this.” Ignoring her writhing and her protests, which were incoherent in fear, he drove his knee down between her thighs and pried them open, triumphantly laughing when he was positioned there. Carrie moaned, knowing she’d lost. And then she gasped as he grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her head back roughly, baring her throat. He buried his face in it, kissing, scraping his teeth over her, biting into the soft curve where her neck met her shoulder.

Acid roiled inside her, acrid-tasting and hot as it rose from her stomach.

“I’m going to be sick, Jon,” she managed to say. He laughed again, and shifted his hips so his penis was pressed against her, ready to penetrate her.

“You’re all stirred up, girl,” he said. “Take some deep breaths. Real deep. From right down here. God, you’re tight.” Carrie drew a breath to scream as he began to push inside her, but his hand came down hard over her mouth.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice tight with passion and determination.

“Mmmmoinooeeiiii,” she said against his palm. He lifted his fingers.

“What was that?” he asked, pressing harder at her groin.

“I’m going to be sick,” she said again. “I really am. Let me go, Jon, I’m going to…” she gagged, her stomach heaving, and he swore and rolled over her.

“Fuck,” he said. “Go, then. You sure know how to kill the mood, Carrie.” She heard that as she raced for the bathroom, tripping over her feet in her urgency, the nightgown still wrapped high around her neck. She just made it in time, the contents of her stomach leaving her in a stinging, hot rush as she heaved over and over again into the toilet. Her hand was pressed tight against her bare stomach, soothing the baby. She heaved again.

“Perhaps not tonight,” Jon said from the open doorway behind her. “Christ that stinks, Carrie.” Still crouched on the floor, she tensed as his hands touched her, but it was only to settle on her hair, smoothing it down over the back of her head.

“I don’t know what you were making all that fuss about,” he said. “Now you’re pregnant, I can have you, Carrie. I haven’t done it before now because I really don’t enjoy using condoms and Robbie wouldn’t have liked it if I’d gotten you pregnant, but it’s perfect now, pet. Just perfect.” Caroline’s shoulders shook as he kept talking.

“And don’t pretend you don’t want it,” he went on. “Because we both know better. If you want it rough, fine, but no screeching next time, all right? It’s best if Robbie doesn’t know. He wouldn’t understand.” Caroline concentrated on breathing, gasping actually, tears running down her face.

“Your lover boy’s gone,” he said, still stroking her hair. “He’s done the job he was paid to do and he’s taken off. Did you know?” She gagged again, and he moved back fast.
”Shit. I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “Blood and guts I can handle, but not vomit. Yuck. I hope this stage passes fast. It’s not attractive, Carrie.” He left the room, and after a while, she heard the bedroom door shut behind him. She flushed the toilet, folded her arms on the seat, put her head down on them and cried.

Carlos found her there almost seven hours later, and it was only because he saw her outstretched legs on the bathroom floor that he came in.

“Dear heaven, what’s happened?” he asked, putting her breakfast on the table and rushing in. He was down on the floor beside her, lifting and turning her so he could see her face. Her eyes opened. She looked and felt miserable.
”This isn’t just morning sickness, is it?” he asked. He was holding her with one arm and tugging the nightgown down over her still naked body with the other. “Is it, Caroline?” She shook her head.

“He tried to rape me,” she said through stiff lips. “I was so scared.” Carlos’ pretty-boy face hardened.

“Henderson?” he asked. She nodded, her head bumping against his shoulder. Carlos took her arm and drew it up round his neck. Then, with a strength disproportionate to his small size, he lifted her and carried her out to the bed.

“No,” she said, clamouring to get off as soon as he put her down. “Not there.” She was unsteady after all the time she’d spent shivering on the bathroom floor, too shocked to get up. He guided her over to a chair and sat her down.

“When did he do this?” he asked.
”Last night,” she said. “I don’t know when. I think it was late, but I don’t know.”
”You said he tried to rape you?” Carlos asked. “He didn’t succeed?”
”No,” she shook her head, surprised when tears sprang to her eyes again. She was surprised there were any tears left in her. “I got sick. I was sick. I vomited, and it made him stop.”
”Good,” Carlos said grimly. He glanced at his watch. The two men of the house had just been starting breakfast when he was coming up the stairs.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he said. “You can’t stay. Not if he’s going to be doing this to you. God, I wonder why he started now? He hasn’t done this before?” She was shaking her head.
”Because I’m pregnant,” she said. “He said it was safe now. He said I wanted it, too.”
”They often say that,” Carlos said. “Don’t think about it, Caroline. Just sit there. Don’t try to move.” He crossed to her wardrobe and chose some clothes at random. Then he came back.

“We don’t have much time, so I’m going to dress you now,” he explained. She nodded, too tired to be truly aware of his words, or of what he was doing when he pulled the nightgown over her head and began putting clothes on her. He was quick and efficient, touching her only when he needed to, slipping shoes onto her feet and then helping her up.

“You can clean your teeth and brush your hair when we get there,” he said. “I want to get you out of here now.”

He half-carried her out of the house. One of the gardeners, Miguel, looked up, startled.

“He tried to rape her,” Carlos said. “I’m taking her somewhere safe. Get someone to cover for me?” Miguel nodded.
”Is she all right?” he asked in very heavily accented English.
”She will be,” Carlos replied, tightening his grip around her waist and urging her forward.

“Is he one of you, too?” she asked.
”No, but he is a fellow servant,” Carlos said. “And Rose was a friend of his. This way, Caroline. Around to the back of the house.” Caroline fought another rush of tears. Poor little Rose. She stumbled, and Carlos bent and scooped her up into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way. She tensed as he was putting her into the car.

“I can’t go,” she said.

“Yes you can,” he said, as if he was talking to a child. “You must.”
”But if I go, it might stop them from doing whatever it is they’re going to do that you need them to do you can catch them.” That sentence was a mess, but Carlos understood it.

“We’ll say you’ve gone to the doctor,” he said. “That you were concerned for the baby because you’ve been sick.”
”But I would have told them I was going.”
”Pregnant women do strange things,” he said. “I have three children. I know. Our doctor will explain that to them.”
”But if I don’t go to my doctor, they’ll know something is wrong,” she said, still panicking, trying to get out of the car. Carlos put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a little shake.

“Look in my eyes, Caroline,” he ordered sharply. She did.

“We will get your doctor to ring them,” he said. “We have a lot of influence, and with the co-operation we are getting, we can do just about anything. Now you stop worrying. I am taking you somewhere safe. Your part in this is over. Understand?” She chewed her lip and nodded. He was behind the wheel and starting the car before she spoke again.

“Thank you,” she said. He spared her a quick, concerned smile before he took off.

………..

She’d been sitting in this little room for two hours now. She’d had a tepid cup of tea and three broken biscuits, and had made a trip to the bathroom with a disposable toothbrush and toothpaste. It hadn’t got the taste out of her mouth. There were two narrow chairs in the room, hard and uncomfortable. And no windows. Carlos had brought her in here apologetically, telling her he would get back to her as soon as he could. Then a tall, thin woman who looked like she’d been sucking a lemon brought the tea and biscuits and toothbrush and paste, and that had been it.

Two hours was two hours too long, and Caroline had had enough. She knew she was at a police station, but she didn’t know why. Yes, it was safe, but what was happening outside? She paced for a while, then opened the door and looked out into a hallway painted the same ugly yellow as the room she’d been in. Voices were coming from down the hallway, loud, raised voices, and she followed them without a second’s hesitation. She had to do something, or she was going to go mad.

“….you brought her here,” a man was bellowing, his words not clear, partly because of his anger and partly because of his accent. “Now, when she tootles off home, she’ll be able to tell them exactly where the fuck we are.”
”She’s not going home,” said another voice – Carlos, she thought. “The bastard tried to rape her. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Yes, I heard you the first fifty times,” the other man retorted. “And you still miss my point. For all we know, she could have been fucking him for the last three years, but now, days before the sting, she suddenly cries rape? It’s too fucking convenient for my liking.”
”Then you can explain that to André,” Carlos spat at him, obviously furious. Caroline walked into the room.

“Don’t tell André,” she said. Carlos and the other man, a big, barrel-chested man with a thick black moustache and almost no hair on his head rounded on her.

“What?” the big man demanded. “And why are you in here?”

“Don’t tell André,” she said again, more urgently. “He’s got enough on his mind at the moment, and if he knows about this, he’s going to want to kill Jon. He’s not going to be able to concentrate.”

“It’s a bit late to be concerned about that now,” the man said, slamming his hand onto his desk. Caroline jumped at the noise.

“Shut up,” Carlos hissed at him. “It’s too late, Caroline. André knows already. He’s on his way here.”
”Here?” she asked. “Or to the estate? Don’t let him go there, Carlos.”
”He won’t go there,” Carlos assured her. “He’s coming here to see you before he does anything else.”
”Fuck knows why,” growled the other man. Caroline just looked at him, wordlessly. What had she done to earn this sort of enmity?

“Take me back to the estate,” she said to Carlos.

“There!” the man said. “Just as I said. Attempted rape, my ass. She wants to go back.”
”No, I don’t want to go back,” she said tightly. “But I don’t want to ruin whatever this operation is that you’ve got going. If I have to spend another day or so there in order for you to catch them and stop them, then I’ll do it.”

“And André will kill all of us,” Carlos finished. “No, Caroline.”

“I have to,” she said. “Don’t you see? Jon and Robert will know by now that I’ve gone, and that’s enough of a worry, but if André storms in there and strangles Jon, it’ll…”
”Andy won’t do that. He is a professional,” the man said. “Well, apart from when he starts fucking the suspects, he is.”

Caroline narrowed her eyes.

“Are you Juan?” she asked. He nodded, not looking happy that she knew his name.
”I talked to you on his cell phone once,” she said. “You called him Andy then.”

“So?” he responded rudely.

“Give it a rest,” Carlos snarled. “And you…I am not going to listen to any more rubbish on the subject of you going back. Your doctor has already contacted them, and they believe that you are resting overnight in hospital, with no visitors, to give you full rest. The reason they have been given is that you are under observation because of your condition and they are making sure that you have no problems with your blood pressure. They have already sent flowers to the hospital. André will be here within an hour, probably less if he drives like he usually does when he’s not pretending to be a chauffeur, and he will not go and kill Henderson, much as he would like to. He knows how important this is. He may, however, kill Juan for his unspeakable rudeness. And I may help him. Come. I will take you somewhere where the company is better and the stench isn’t so bad.” He took Caroline’s arm and led her out.

“Fuck you,” Juan called after him.

“What a very pleasant man,” Caroline commented. Carlos smiled.
”He has been under a lot of pressure lately,” he said. “He is André’s right hand man, and he has been worried over what has been happening, although he’d never admit it.”
”He doesn’t seem like the worrying type to me,” Caroline said. They were walking down another corridor now, having turned a corner. “Where are we going?”
”To the situation room,” Carlos said. “Another unforgivable breach in procedure, but at least there are some comfortable chairs there for you to rest in. Are you still sure you don’t want to be checked over by a doctor?”
”Positive,” she said. “I’m all right. I’m just pregnant.” He laughed.

“That’s a contradiction in terms,” he said. “My wife is never all right when she’s pregnant. Here we are.” He opened a green door and ushered her in.

“Everyone, this is Caroline Winthrop,” he said, dropping the title. Five pairs of eyes focused in on her. “You all know what happened to her last night. She needs a place to sit comfortably, a long way away from Juan. This is it.”
”She shouldn’t be in here,” said the tall, thin streak of misery who had brought her the tea and biscuits.

“No, she shouldn’t,” Carlos agreed. “But she is, so live with it. Where are we up to?”
”We’re not discussing it in front of her,” said another woman, this one shorter, with a stylish maroon suit on, and tightly curled blonde hair. “She could be wearing a wire, for all we know.” Carlos rolled his eyes.

“I dressed her from the skin up this morning,” he said. “I feel sure I would have noticed if she were wearing a wire.” Caroline was too tired to even squirm at that. She was almost too tired to stay upright.

“So she’ll memorising all of this instead,” the taller woman shrugged. Speaking in a different language, Carlos said something that made the woman raise her eyebrows and look offended. Then he turned to Caroline.

“Do you speak Spanish?” he asked. She shook her head.

“A little French, but not much,” she said. “And English. That’s it.”
”So she says,” said one of the others, an older man. Caroline sighed, then walked over to one of the two hideous armchairs shoved into a corner of the crowded room.

“Speak Spanish,” she said. “Speak Swahili, speak whatever you want. I am going to go to sleep.” She sat down, curled her legs up, put her head down on the arm of the chair, and dropped almost immediately into a light doze, in which she could still hear raised voices and incomprehensible words, but the harsh glare of reality was filtered out.

She woke with a start when the door of the room crashed open.

“Where is she?” André demanded. “Where is…oh God, Caroline!” She was out of the chair in a flash, but he covered the distance before she could move a step, catching her up into his arms in a crushing hug that took her feet clear off the floor.
”Are you all right?” he asked. “Did he hurt you? Where did he hurt you? Oh baby, I’m so sorry. I will kill him for this, I swear. I will…” She was looking at him in a dazed way, and he realised he was speaking French. In English, he said the only thing that mattered. “I love you.” Caroline burst into tears and would have buried her face in his neck, but he dipped his head and caught her lips with his before she could.

Polite people would have turned away or left the room to give them some privacy. Instead, everyone in the room looked directly at them, fascinated and astonished by such a public display from the normally controlled André. The kiss went on forever, Caroline trying to catch her breath through her nose, André standing unmoving with her in his arms, her feet hanging just below his knees.

“Let her up for air, man,” Carlos finally said. André did, but he kissed both of her eyes, soaking up some of her tears before he put her down.

“You are never going back there,” he said to her. “Carlos tells me you offered to stay there so they would not be suspicious.” Caroline opened her mouth, but he closed it again with his finger. “Put that idea right out of your head,” he said. “It is not happening.” She nodded. He drew her close again, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“Have they looked after you here?” he asked. Several people looked away uncomfortably. Caroline nodded.

“Yes,” she said, to their relief. André looked as if he’d murder anyone who crossed him at the moment.

“Good,” he said. “Now, where are we up to?” His arm strong around her, she put her head on his shoulder as he turned to the whiteboard that lined the wall in front of them. No-one said anything about not talking in front of her now, she noticed. Not that she cared. She had no idea what all of those lines and words meant, and she didn’t want to know.

She looked around the room, something she hadn’t done before. It was painted grey, again with no windows, and it was unredeemable in its ugliness. Whiteboards took up two of the walls, a corkboard covered much of the third, and on the fourth… she twisted her head to look, and despite everything, smiled. On the fourth, her portrait of André hung. Underneath it was a piece of paper that was headed up “Rates”. Underneath, it had a dollar amount, divided by three hundred and sixty-five days, divided by two, then divided by twice a day, with a very small figure at the bottom. Feeling her move, André looked down at her and followed the line of her vision. He snorted.

“That has got to go,” he said.

“No it hasn’t,” said the blonde woman. “That’s our morale booster, Directeur.”

“It does nothing for my morale,” he pointed out. “You see what you did to me?” he said to Caroline.

“She painted that?” the older man asked. André, not liking his tone, nodded, tight-lipped.

“Surprising,” said the man, turning away.
”Why surprising?” André demanded.

“I didn’t think she’d have had time, what with all of those society events and dress-fittings to go to,” the man said. Caroline rocked as André’s arm dropped from around her.

“André, no,” she said, reaching out her hand to catch his arm. Not quite as bone-crushingly tired now as she had been before, she could now understand the animosity. “Up until recently, these people thought I was the villain. You can’t expect them to suddenly embrace me.”
”I can expect them to be at least polite,” André said. “You are a victim here, Caroline. We’ve known for some weeks now that you are not involved.” The thin woman rolled her eyes.

“You have a problem with that, Simone?” André asked. His voice was deep and unfriendly. Simone blanched, but didn’t back down.

“Not all of us are thinking with our gonads,” she said. André said something short and sharp in another language. It sounded similar to what Carlos had said to her earlier.

“I’ll take you somewhere else,” he said to Caroline. She shook her head.

“You need to be here,” she said.

“And if she leaves, she might miss some little detail,” the older man said. One of the other men, dark-haired, with a pointy, intense face, sighed loudly.

“Give her a break, Tony,” he said. “She was almost raped last night. And the Directeur is right. We know she was not at the last meeting.” He looked over at Caroline. “I’m sorry for our rudeness,” he said. “We have worked hard and long on this, and it is difficult for some of our number to change their minds.”

“Thank you,” Caroline said. She put her arm around André, as much to restrain him as to support herself again. Her legs were shaking with reaction to everything that had happened.

“I am disappointed,” André said, looking around at the people. “I had expected more of you. Logically, we all know that she cannot have been the woman we were looking for. Instinctively, I know that she is not involved. You have trusted my instincts before, but this time you are not prepared to, because you think I am being guided by my feelings for her. Well, I guess I can understand that. After all, I have such a long history of making stupid decisions and being led astray by my emotions, don’t I?” His tone wasn’t sarcastic, but Caroline knew very well that his words were. Several people were looking even more uncomfortable now, but he wasn’t finished.

“I would have expected Juan to be unreasonable, but I had foolishly thought that you would have had some compassion as well as some brains. I second Alain’s words, Caroline. I apologise for the rudeness of these people.”
”Please,” she said. “It’s all right. I understand. Do you…do you mind if I sit down? I’m just really, really tired.” With concern in his eyes, André swung her up into his arms and walked over to the chair she’d just vacated, sitting down with her across his lap, her head on his shoulder.

“Sleep, chérie,” he said softly. “I will try to talk quietly.” She shook her head, feeling safe now, held against him, her head finding its accustomed place on him.

“Talk as loud as you like,” she said sleepily. “Hearing your voice will soothe me.” She didn’t lie. She was asleep within minutes.

When Juan stormed into the room an hour later, he had his mouth open, ready to yell at André for not coming to see him, but the look André sent at him dried up the flood of abuse before it started.

“If you wake her, I will knock you to the floor,” he said quietly. No-one hearing his words doubted his sincerity. Juan looked at the woman asleep in André’s arms and snarled.

“She must really be one hell of a fuck,” he said. The tall woman snickered, but no-one else did. No-one watching the tenderness with which André had held Caroline in his lap for more than an hour could doubt his feelings for her. And he’d been right. His instincts had saved lives before. He deserved support.

“You’re a very unpleasant man, Juan,” the blonde woman said. “Vulgar and stupid, too.” Her conscience had been plaguing her. She’d been nearly as rude to Caroline as Juan had, and, knowing André better than most of the other people in the room, she had cause to know that he was not a fool.

“You too, Monique?” Juan sneered.
”Yes, and I haven’t slept with her,” the woman responded. “So you can’t throw that at me.” She turned back to the whiteboard.

“Get her out of this room,” Juan said to André. “She has no right to be here.”

“Fine,” said André. “Good luck with the operation, everyone. If you want to send me a Christmas card, I’ll be in France, with Caroline. Nice knowing you all.” He stood up with her cradled against him, still fast asleep. Juan’s mouth had dropped open.

“You would walk away from four years of hard work for this?” he asked, quiet now.

“Without a backward glance,” André assured him.

“And to hell with all of those people who are caught up in it?” Simone asked. She was shocked, too. There were stunned looks around the room. André had been the driving force behind this for a long time.

“I am confident that you will all look after those people,” André said. “I will be looking after my wife. Good bye.” It was Carlos who put his hand on André’s shoulder.

“Don’t go,” he said. “We need you, and you know it.”
”You’ll have to manage,” André said, speaking in a low voice. “This woman’s father was murdered by those two men, her family’s business ruined. Yesterday, she found out that two people she thought she knew, at least one of whom she cared for, are evil personified. Last night, as you know, the one she cared for, a filthy, fucking bastard I would like to rip the heart out of, tried to force himself on her, saying that now she was pregnant it did not matter, and telling her that she wanted it, too. She has had enough, and I have as well. I am not subjecting her to any more of this.”

“She’s pregnant?” Simone asked. André looked over and nodded.

“She should eat then,” the woman said. “She’s only had a cup of tea and some dry biscuits. If I’d known…”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” André said, his face hard. “We treat criminals better than that. Get out of my way, Carlos.”

“No,” said the blonde man. “We need you. We need your knowledge of the two suspects, we need your instincts and we need your anger. What Caroline needs is food and sleep, and if you’ll give her to me, I’ll take her to a motel in town and see that she gets both.” He held out his arms. André growled and held Caroline closer. Carlos blinked. Then he grinned.

“Did you just growl at me?” he asked. André started to say something unpleasant, but stopped in time. He almost smiled.

“I guess I did,” he admitted.
”I looked after her and carried her this morning,” Carlos reminded him. “She’s safe with me, my friend.”

“I know that,” André said.

“I just wish I could have brought her to somewhere where she would have received a better reception,” the blonde man said regretfully.

“You did what you could,” André conceded. “I have no complaint with you. But no, you cannot take her from me. I am not planning to let her go.”

“We got that,” Juan said. André rounded on him, waiting for the next insult. It didn’t come.

“Sit down,” the big man said, shaking his head. “Much as I hate to admit it, you’ve never been wrong before, DuPre. And I’m getting exhausted just watching you standing there holding a full-grown woman.”

“If you worked out more often, you might be able to do it too,” Alain suggested. Juan said something short, pithy and unrepeatable, earning a quick grin. André stood, undecided, for a few seconds more. Then he walked back to the chair and sat down. Talk resumed. After a few minutes, Simone, looking awkward, picked up her own coat from a chair and walked over, draping it over Caroline.

“Every now and then she shakes,” she said softly to André. He nodded, not yet ready to forgive.

…………….

Juan drove them to a motel that afternoon, opening the car door so André could get out, Caroline still cradled against him.

“And still she sleeps,” Juan said, amazed. André had woken her mid-afternoon to coax some food and water into her, and she had almost immediately curled back up on his lap and gone to sleep again.

“Shock will do that to you,” André said. “Sleep gives her time to heal.” Nevertheless, he wished she’d wake up. He wanted to talk to her, to reassure her.

“Poor kid,” Juan said in Spanish. It was the closest he was ever going to come to an apology. It was a pity Caroline didn’t hear it.

She finally woke up just after midnight, dry-mouthed and needing the bathroom badly. There could have been a panicked instant of déjà vu from the night before, but she woke feeling safe, and this time there was no mistaking the comforting bulk of André’s body against hers and his arms around her. She eased away from him and sat up in the dark, wondering where she was. She fumbled around until she found a lamp beside her and fumbled some more until she found a switch on it. As harsh yellow light flooded the room, the material shade fell off in her hand, and she squinted while she fitted it back on. It was just resting on top of the light, as well-made as everything else appeared to be in this room, she mused as she looked around. A television, a mini-bar, a desk, two chairs, the bed and a built-in wardrobe and cupboard were the complement of the room’s contents, along with most of André’s possessions, stacked against one wall. And over to the right, a door. She stood up, unsteady for an instant, then crossed to it, relieved to find a bathroom. The air conditioning felt cool, which was possibly because she was naked. Her clothes were draped over one of the chairs, along with André’s.

When she came out, having awkwardly scooped water up into her mouth from the vanity, he was sitting up in bed.

“Go back to sleep,” she said. “It’s late.” He shook his head and held his arms out to her. She went into them feeling as if she’d arrived home. It was the same sensation she’d had when he’d held her to him in the situation room. Home was now wherever he was. It was as simple as that.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked, rocking her against his chest. She shook her head.

“Not really,” she said.

“A cup of tea?” he offered. She smiled.

“That would be nice,” she said.

“There is a sandwich here, too,” he said, climbing out of bed and crossing to the cupboard, which concealed a small fridge. Caroline watched him go with pleasure. He was a tall, very handsome, naked man. And he was HER tall, very handsome, naked man.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked, pleased beyond measure that she was. “Here’s your sandwich.”

“I’m just thinking about holding a baby who looks like a small version of you,” she admitted. He smiled.

“I hope she looks like you,” he said. “But since we both have black hair and blue eyes, we’ll probably both feature.”

“She?” Caroline asked. He shrugged.

“I think so,” he said. “What shall we call her?”
”We have plenty of time to come up with names, both male and female,” she laughed, biting into the sandwich. The bread was thin, the meat unidentifiable, and it tasted wonderful.

“Want some?” she asked, offering it to him. He shook his head, enjoying watching her eat. He’d been so worried about her all day.

She drank the tea leaning back against the headboard of the bed, the sheets around her waist, her breasts bare.

“I’m going to take you to one of those beaches at home,” he said suddenly. “You know, the ones I told you about, where local women bathe topless?”

“That will be an experience,” she said. Then she realised his meaning. “No way.” She put her arm across her breasts. He grinned.

“If I have to carry you there and tear your top off myself, you are going to do it,” he promised.

“In front of other people? Never!” she swore. His grin stayed in place.

“We will see,” he said. “You finished that? Good. I’ll take it.” He took the cup away. “Now, are you ready for more sleep?”
”No,” she said.

“Figures,” he said ruefully. “You slept all day. You want to party now?”
”No,” she said. “Come here and I’ll tell you what I want to do. Better still, I’ll show you.” Laughing, relieved that the events of the night before hadn’t dimmed her need for him in any way, André obliged.

……………….

When he left her the following morning, he was tempted to leave her sleeping, but he didn’t want her to wake up and not know where he was. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stroked her face and hair until her eyelids fluttered open.

“Hello,” he said, smiling.

“Hello back,” she responded sleepily. She stretched, her body shifting, her arms up above her head. Her back arched, her breasts lifted and her nipples peeked up above the covers.

“And hello to you two as well,” André said, bending to quickly kiss them before she could cover them. He laughed when she squealed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Not sick?” She shook her head.

“I don’t get it every morning,” she said. “And it’s usually not until I get up.”
”Stay down,” he said. “You can go back to sleep. I have to go to work, and I want you to stay here today. There will be two police officers in a car outside, and one of them will bring you breakfast in about an hour. I will try to be back for lunch with you.” She was stroking his arm and nodding.

“Were you wearing this yesterday?” she asked, looking at the black leather jacket he was wearing. He nodded.

“You were not noticing much yesterday, chérie,” he said. He had on black jeans, too, and a cream-coloured t-shirt.

“I can’t have been,” she said. “You look good enough to eat.”
”Hold that thought,” he grinned wickedly. “I’ll be back later.” He kissed her, again laughing when she protested that she hadn’t cleaned her teeth, and left, waving to the police car parked up on the footpath and partially obscured by trees, across the road.

…………….

Caroline was up when the policeman knocked on the door. She’d rinsed her underwear out and it was hanging in the bathroom, and she was a bit self-conscious about the fact that she was obviously only wearing one layer of clothes, but the lure of food was too much.

“Room service,” the policeman grinned as she opened the door. “Where would you like it?” Smiling back, Caroline pointed at the desk.

“I’m sorry, I can’t tip you,” she played along. Having had a quick look at her in the thin blouse, Constable Jack Cranwell didn’t feel that a tip was necessary.

“If the Director doesn’t come back by lunchtime, one of us will walk over to MacDonald’s again and get you something,” he promised.

“Thank you,” she said, meaning it, even though she’d never eaten MacDonald’s in her life. “Have you had breakfast? Do you want some of this?” He shook his head.

“All yours,” he said. “Enjoy.” He left her, shutting the door behind him.

“She awake?” his female partner asked as he got back in the car.

“She is,” Jack said. “Pretty little thing. Skinny, with huge eyes and huge…eyes.”

His partner snorted.

“Typical man,” she said.

Two hours later, suffering the usual boredom that accompanied this sort of work, she suddenly sat up straight in her seat.

“Shit!” she said.

“What?” Jack looked at her, then over at the motel. “Well, how did she do that?”
”I don’t know. I didn’t see her go out of the room.”

“Well I wouldn’t have missed her. Must have been while you were supposed to be looking, Browneye.”
”I don’t think so,” the woman said, not even flinching at the nickname. Her name tag read ‘Constable Suzanne Browning.’ “There’s not another door?” she asked. He shook his head.

“And the only windows are barred,” he added. “Ah well, at least she’s back in there now. No harm done.”

“Just don’t tell the Director,” Suzanne said. “He’s movie-star gorgeous, but I wouldn’t want to cross him. Not with his reputation.”

“We have a reputation as well. Our powers of observation are legendary,” Jack said, sliding back down into a comfortable slouch in his seat. His partner chortled.
”Are they?” she said. “Tell me what she was wearing.” He grinned.

“A blue dress and killer high heels,” he said triumphantly. “All of them different to what she had on when I took her breakfast before, when she was wearing a green top thing and a grey skirt.” Suzanne mumbled something.

“What was that?” he demanded. “Was that “you are totally correct, Jack, you brilliant man, you?””

“Something like that,” she agreed.

“Well, I’ll astound you even more,” he said. “She’s wearing underwear now – and she definitely wasn’t before.” He laughed as she thumped her fist into his arm.

………….

Morning sickness had hit less than two hours after she’d finished the round burger-like thing the policeman had brought her. It had bacon on it and something that looked like an egg, and it had been wrapped up in grease-proof paper. Caroline decided that it tasted no better on the way back up than it had when she’d eaten it. Wiping her mouth on some toilet paper and flushing the toilet, she stood up carefully, willing her stomach to settle, and as she did, caught a movement in the bathroom mirror. She froze as the person behind it stepped into the doorway.

“That’s a nasty habit you seem to have developed lately,” said the beautiful woman with Jon’s face.

…………..

In the situation room at the police station, the final touches were being put on a strategy that it was hoped would be the culmination of four years of investigation and hard slog. They could all but taste the victory. The door opened, and none of them looked around.

“Small problemo, André,” Juan said. André spun around.

“What?” he asked.

“Carlos just rang from the estate. Apparently Jon Henderson stormed in a couple of hours ago in a right temper. He’d managed to charm his way past the nurses at the hospital to visit your lady. He was not impressed to find an empty room. Carlos says he’s left again.”

André launched into a string of words notable for fluency in several languages and total obscenity.

“We’ve got the cops watching her,” Juan reminded him. “And there’s no way the motel owner is going to own up to her being there.”
”There are only three motels in this town,” André reminded him. “And yes, I know the police are watching her, but I’m going to ring her, just to make sure she stays there.” He had his cell phone out of his pocket, and a small card with the name and contact details of the motel out of his wallet.

………..

The phone rang. Caroline looked at it, as did Jon.

“I don’t think we’ll answer that, do you?” he said. “So, I take it this is where André is staying?” She didn’t answer him. He looked around. “Yes, there’s the painting you gave him. Is the one you did of him here?”

“No,” she answered, the first word she’d said to him. The phone was still ringing shrilly. She was tempted to make a dive for it, but she knew she wouldn’t make it. Her legs were shaking too much. Jon walked over to a neat pile of three cardboard boxes, managing his high heels with ease. He glanced back and saw where she was looking.

“They do make my legs look fabulous, don’t they?” he said, camping up his voice. “I’m a bit concerned that my butt looks big in this dress, though. What do you think?” Caroline said nothing. The phone stopped, finally.

Jon opened the top box, dug around idly inside. Then he laughed.

“Well, what do you know?” he asked, pulling out his handcuffs. “He kept them. That’s stealing, you know. He’s a bad boy, Carrie. I can’t tell you how much I’d like to punish him for that.” He turned around. “Oh settle down, pet. I’m not going to beat you up, and I’m certainly not going to make love to you if there’s a risk that you’re going to almost upchuck on me again.” He shuddered fastidiously.

“Why are you here?” she asked. He smiled. He was wearing a red lipstick, brighter than anything she’d have ever worn, and his insanely long eyelashes were thick with mascara. And his beautiful green eyes were blue.
”You’re wearing coloured contacts,” she said, before he could answer. He nodded.

“I prefer the natural colour, but I think it highlights the surface similarity between us, don’t you? The motel owner certainly thought we looked alike. Apparently he saw you briefly when that hunk was carrying you in here yesterday, and he was more than happy to hand the spare key over to me when it was so obvious that I was your sister, so concerned about your welfare and not wanting to wake you up.”

”Why are you here?” she asked again.

“To find out why you’re here and not in the hospital where you’re supposed to be, pet,” he said. “Tell me, am I about to be charged with attempted rape? Is that what this is about? And if so, why haven’t I been charged already? Why are they guarding you instead of marching up to the estate with a warrant for my arrest and some real handcuffs?” He had the handcuffs swinging from one finger as he spoke. “What’s going on, Carrie?”

“I don’t know,” she said, figuring that she was being at least partly honest, hoping she sounded convincing. “I went to the police station yesterday.” Jon looked nonplussed.

‘Why?” he demanded. He walked across the floor to where she stood, not trusting herself to move. His hand gripping her jaw, he forced her to meet his eyes. “Why did you do that? I didn’t do anything you didn’t want me to do, Carrie, and we both know it.”
”No, we both don’t,” she said, shaking her face free. “I never wanted that, Jon. Never.” His face, which should have looked absurd, given his makeup, wig and dress, but didn’t, showed his disbelief.

“You were a friend,” Caroline insisted. “It was never about sex with us.”
”It’s always about sex, pet,” he said. “Ask André. Where is he, by the way?”

“I don’t know. He went out.” She turned away to say that. She couldn’t give it away now. He still didn’t know that they were on to him for something much bigger than what he’d tried to do to her.
”I do hope he isn’t going to come storming in here,” Jon said. He smiled. “I’d hate to have to put a hole in him with the gun I have in my – sorry, in YOUR little Gucci handbag.” He looked around the motel room in a disparaging way.
”My, he provided quite a luxurious love nest for you,” he said. He shook his head. “What’s the appeal, Carrie? I mean, I know he’s delicious, but what about breeding? I’d have thought that mattered to you. And no, not that sort of breeding, you wicked girl.” Caroline had no idea how to answer that. She didn’t feel like playing. She said the first thing that came to her head.

“He loves me,” she said.

“How sweet,” Jon said. “Of course, I love you too. There’s just the complicating factor of Robbie to deal with. He’d be rather devastated if we ran off together, I think.”

“There are police outside, you know,” she said, hoping to make him leave, hoping she wasn’t giving away her only advantage.

“It was a little hard to miss them, Carrie,” he said. “I drove around the three motels in this hick town after I left the hospital, just on the off-chance that you were around, and this was the only one with a police car parked out the front. A bit of a giveaway, I thought, but still – I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. That’s why I’m dressed like this, pet.”

She suddenly realised something.

“That’s my dress!” He laughed.

“And your shoes,” he agreed. “They’re tight as hell, but the colour goes well with the wig, I think. I’m not happy with the dress, though. It’s uncomfortable and it clings in all the wrong places. I think we’ll swap clothes.” He was totally comfortable and supremely confident. He smiled, a beautiful, open smile that sent shivers all the way down Caroline’s back.

……………

André was out the door and racing along the hallways to the stairs.

“Man, she could have been in the bathroom,” Juan yelled, trying to keep up. André didn’t answer. He shoved the door at the bottom of the stairs open and covered the distance to the unmarked Ford in six steps. Juan got his hand to the passenger door and yanked it open just as André was throwing it into gear. Thrown back into his seat as the car lurched forward, Juan saw Alain and Monique running for a second car.
”Fantastic,” he complained. “Everyone’s dropping everything and running in the same direction.” André said nothing.

……………..

“Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to get us moving,” Jon said. “I have a very important meeting to go to tomorrow morning, and it looks like you’re going to have to come with me. I’ve thrown some of your stuff into a suitcase and it’s in the Ferrari with my stuff, too. And if you don’t have enough, you can wear some of mine.” He looked her up and down. “Not that I think you could look as good in men’s clothes as I do in women’s, unfortunately, but you’ll do. Now, I have to think about how we’re going to get out of here without the police getting all excited about developing double vision, so while I’m thinking, you can slip those clothes off for me. This dress just doesn’t do it for me, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t have any underwear on,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t care. “It’s drying in the bathroom.”
”Oh dear,” he grinned, and the very male lust in his eyes was a strange juxtaposition over the total femininity of his appearance. “However will I cope?” He sat down on the bed. “Take them off, Carrie. Now.”

…………..

“You know, if you kill someone, it will look very bad on your record,” Juan commented as André narrowly missed a man who had foolishly stepped out onto the road when the WALK sign told him he could. André was not paying any attention to red lights. Neither was Monique, driving the car behind them. Juan looked over at his colleague. He’d never seen that look in his eyes before. André DuPre was noted for his cool head under pressure, his ability to walk into danger and out again without breaking a sweat. He was sweating now, and he was panicking.

…………

“I have always loved your tits,” Jon said, as they were revealed. Carrie put her arm across them and handed him the blouse.

“No, don’t cover them,” he tutted. “I’ve seen them already, pet. And I’ve handled them too, remember? All firm and heavy and delightfully responsive. Particularly those sweet pink nipples of yours. And there they are again. Good girl. Now the skirt.” Too scared, too furious to be embarrassed, Caroline undid it and let it slide to the floor. She handed it to him.

“Lovely,” he said. “Now, I’m going to go into the bathroom and change into these.” He laughed at the look on her face. “Not because of any modesty on my part,” he said. “Call it vanity, if you like. In order for me to approximate your body shape, I have to wear the most disgusting foundation garments. They were made specially for me, and they do a wonderful job, but they’re utterly hideous. So, to make sure you don’t do anything silly, we’ll just…yes, that will do. Come here, Carrie.”

Reluctantly, literally dragging her feet, she crossed to where he was standing, and gritted her teeth as he turned her round and pulled her hands behind her back. He clicked the handcuffs on her wrists and looped them around something. He rattled the base of the lamp.

“Bolted down to the table,” he laughed. “It’s a long time since I’ve stayed in a motel room where they did that. And forgive me this, pet, but I don’t want you calling out.” He took a handkerchief out of the handbag on the bed and gagged her with it, stretching it painfully tight over her mouth.

“There,” he said. He stroked her breasts, thrust out by the handcuffs, and she squirmed and moaned. “Oh stop it,” he said. “You’re only being silly.”

He picked up her discarded clothes and went into the bathroom, pulling the door to, but not closing it. The instant it was between them, Caroline yanked up with her hands, knocking the shade off the lamp. She ran for the door as fast as she could given the awkwardness of her position, and turned around to yank down on the handle. Jon came out of the bathroom, still dressed and moving fast, just as she turned back round and dived out the door.

Her only thought was to make it to the police car, and she could see doors flying open across the road as she tried to get her feet working. She’d barely made three steps when he caught her, yanking her back against him.

“I cannot tell you how disappointed I am in you,” he said, sounding very, very angry. She couldn’t see it, but something told her that the hard object he had pressed against her temple was not a lipstick.

…………

That was the sight that greeted André and the others as they screeched to a halt in the motel car park. Jon, his dark wig slightly askew, blue dress and high heels still in place, had an arm wrapped around Caroline’s middle, holding her firmly in front of him. Her arms were trapped behind her in the cuffs, her face was dissected by the handkerchief he’d knotted behind her head, her eyes were wild with fright and her naked body was trembling. The two police officers, weapons drawn, were approaching, with wary eyes on the gun Jon held to his hostage’s head.

“This begins to looks like something a little more serious than a charge of attempted rape,” Jon said flatly. “Is there something I should know, Carrie?” She struggled, her breasts bouncing wildly, attempted to say something very unladylike. It wasn’t audible through the handkerchief.

“Well, darling, I’m not going to jail,” he said. “I like sex and I like variety, but somehow, I feel my dance card would be a little too full in there, even for me. And besides, I wouldn’t have you to keep me company, would I?” He slid his restraining hand up, to cup one of her breasts. He laughed, both at the way she stiffened, and at the look on the face of one of the approaching men.

“André doesn’t like it when I do that,” he said. “Poor André.” He squeezed her breast.

“Who is he, Carrie?” he asked. “Policeman? Secret agent? Come on. It’s not going to make a scrap of difference now.” She made a noise against the handkerchief.
”Oh dear, I forgot that you can’t answer. Well, he’s obviously something. How deliciously ironic that we gave you to him. Silly old Robbie with his desire to have someone to carry on his title. I didn’t want you to breed, pet, I really didn’t. I only had one reason for being happy that you were pregnant, and you already know what that was. And that hardly matters now, either.”

“Let her go, Henderson!” André called, interrupting the soft, constant talking in her ear. Caroline tensed her muscles and tried again to pull away. He had a gun. She couldn’t let him shoot André. Or any of the others she could now see. Juan and Alain and Monique, and the two police officers…and the motel owner had come out now, along with two of the guests, to see what all the fuss was about. Her bare feet scrabbled for purchase on the gravel as Jon dragged her backwards, his hand still on her breast.

“Well at least you’re giving them all something to look at,” he taunted. “Now, I suppose I should say the standard line.” He angled his head round her. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot her!” he called, his voice deep. He chuckled. “There, I think I did that rather well, don’t you?”

Her eyes flickered to the side, wondering where he was taking her. It wasn’t back into the room, so it must be round the back of the motel, where he no doubt had the Ferrari waiting. He couldn’t really believe that he was going to get away, could he? Her eyes met André’s. His face was taut, his eyes narrow and focused. And there was a gun in his hands. Juan, beside him, also had a gun, and the two police officers were crouched down, ready to shoot. André gestured with his head, telling them to go around the back. Monique and Alain had vanished, already on their way around the back of the motel from the different direction. Jon didn’t appear to have noticed a diminishing in his audience, but he took objection to the movement of the police.

“Don’t move,” he said. They stopped, to his satisfaction. He talked more quietly to Caroline.

“And to think you’ve always been so modest,” he said. “Look at you, you brazen hussy, showing everything you’ve got.” He raised his voice, teasing her.

“Look away, everyone! Can’t you see that Lady Caroline is completely nude? Have you no manners? I mean, look at her! You can see everything!” His voice quietened and he pressed his face against her. “They’re not looking away, Carrie. Perhaps they like looking at your body as much as André and I do?” She struggled against him again, almost managing to slip free this time, her perspiring skin making her slide under his grasp. The gun was pressed harder against her.
”Don’t,” he said. André’s shoulders tightened as he raised his gun. All he needed was a slight opening, just a little more, if only his damned hands would steady. He couldn’t get an angle on a head shot, because Jon was not much taller than Caroline, only his heels taking the top of his head over hers, and it wasn’t enough. He gripped the gun tighter.

Jon took a step to the right and the high heel on his right foot caught on a large piece of gravel, making him stumble. It was fortunate that he used his right arm to steady himself, because it brought the gun just slightly away from Caroline’s head. It was unfortunate for Jon that in stumbling, he moved a couple of inches away from his hostage. The bullet caught him in his rib cage, travelling through his lung and beyond. He fell back with a choked scream, landing heavily on the gravel.

André had Caroline in his arms and turned away from the sight before she was even aware of what had happened. He dragged the handkerchief down around her neck.
”He’s shot?” she asked, an edge of hysteria in her voice. “You shot him?”
”No,” André said. “Juan got him. For some reason, my hands were shaking.” The police officers got to Jon first, kicking his gun away and standing over him with their weapons pointed at him. He was gasping…just. The wig had fallen off as he landed, and his own golden hair was gleaming in the sunlight. He still looked more like a woman than a man.

“Carrie,” he choked out, and she almost turned back, but André held her firm.

“No,” he said. “He doesn’t get any last words to you, chérie.” Alain was pressing his coat around her, and André nodded his thanks, drawing it over her shoulders. Jon gasped something else, and made another noise that wasn’t a word. Then there was silence.

“He’s gone,” the female police officer said. She bent down and felt for a pulse. “I don’t think there’s any point in resuscitating him, given he’s got a hole the size of Texas in his chest.”

“There would be none anyway,” Juan said. “It’d be a waste of good air.”

Caroline, her face buried in André’s shoulder, began to cry, and he bent down, picked her up and carried her to his car. Looking round him, she could see the tableau, Jon lying still on the ground, her blue dress rucked up around his hips, one of his legs bent under him, the other straight out. Around him, five people stood, looking down, and in an outer circle, the motel owner and guests watched, open-mouthed.

“What happens now?” she asked.
”Nothing,” André said. “It’s over.”

………………….

But of course it wasn’t. There was still Sir Robert to deal with, along with a meeting of some of the most unpleasant low-lives any of them had ever had the misfortune to deal with. With just one problem. The dark-haired woman who ran the show wasn’t going to be there, because “she” was now lying dead in the morgue.

“I could wear a wig,” Monique offered, sitting on the table in the situation room. “I’m a similar height, although I’m nowhere near the build, unfortunately.”

“Don’t look at me,” Simone said, looking down at her tall, skinny body.

They weren’t. Almost all of them, in fact, were looking at Caroline, still wearing only Alain’s coat, her legs bare.

“No,” André said. Every eye flickered to him. “NO!” he said again. Caroline, fortified by three cups of tea, looked up from her chair.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said firmly.

“Come on, man,” Juan said. “She looks enough like him that two cops didn’t even realise it wasn’t her. These people don’t know Henderson well enough to notice any subtle differences.”
”Subtle?” André said. “The shape of the eyes is different, the mouth…no!”

“With the exception of our people, no-one there has ever seen Henderson as a woman,” Tony, the older man, said. “This is a new group of people, and as far as we can tell, none of them have ever seen him at all. They’re expecting a beautiful, voluptuous, dark-haired woman. We have a beautiful, voluptuous, dark-haired woman who, if I’m not mistaken, is offering to help.”
”She’s not doing it,” André said. “And I’m not arguing about this.”

“What are you hoping to achieve?” Caroline asked. André swore.
”We want to catch the organisers red-handed,” Alain explained. “Henderson had a meeting with them in an office building in the city, about three hours drive from here – two hours if André is driving. A new network is being set up, as far as we know, and one of our people is undercover, serving as the conduit between them and Henderson. We have the room set up for sound and picture, and we suspect that one or two of these animals will sing once we get them.”

”But if the dark-haired woman doesn’t show up, they’ll know something is wrong, and they will leave,” Simone said. Caroline looked up at André, who was shaking his head at her. Then she looked back at the others.

“Then the dark-haired woman will have to show up, won’t she?” she said simply.