Secretive (9 page)

“No. She’s not there.”

“What? She’s got to be here. We’ve been here since seven this morning.”

“She must have left last night. She’s in London. Get on the next plane. I’ll text you her location.”

Anna closed the window and was back at her desk in moments, her pink fingers and reddish nose the only sign that she’d been hanging out the window a few moments earlier.

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T
HE slant of morning sunlight through the curtains revealed that Zoe had gotten plenty of sleep, but she still felt groggy as she rolled over and sat up. Last night, she’d returned from her meeting with Bent, sent a quick email to the mysterious Ares character, and then dropped into bed.

Zoe rubbed her hand across her face, gathered her wild hair into a bundle, and pulled it over one shoulder. She stifled a yawn as she pulled her laptop toward her to check her mail. Nothing from Ares. She was about to shove the covers off and get out of bed, when she remembered the pin board website. She’d logged into it last night and looked at the board Nico had mentioned, but there had been nothing new. She refreshed the page and froze.

“No way,” she whispered as she studied the new photo of a mosaic of a dog. She recognized the arrangement of a black dog with a red leash on a white background. It was from a home in Pompeii. The fog of grogginess disappeared as she focused on the mosaic. Jack had posted it. He’d picked something that they had experienced together, Pompeii, and while Nico knew she had visited Pompeii with Jack, only Jack knew how she’d fallen in love with the mosaics. The intricate shading and delicate lines conveyed through small tiles had fascinated her, and she’d spent most of the time in Pompeii hurrying from one house to another, always checking out the mosaics. There was no description under the photo, only a hyperlink to a webpage.

She sat up, crossed her legs, and stared at her computer screen. But what did it mean? Nico had said that whatever Jack posted, she would understand. Sorry, but the picture wasn’t exactly speaking to her, at least it wasn’t speaking very clearly.

Was Jack in Pompeii? Had the note with the web address only been sent to get her to London so she could find Nico? But then why not just send her the coordinates to Pompeii directly? Why route her through London?

She clicked on the photo and was taken to the pop-up of the picture. She clicked again on the hyperlink, and an article about a traveling exhibit from Pompeii filled the screen. She quickly skimmed the article, which included photos of the black and white dog mosaic as well as other antiquities found in Pompeii. The exhibit was currently at the British Museum.

She threw the covers back and went to shower. A museum wouldn’t normally be on her must-see list. Her first choice would be The Tower or the London Eye. However, the British Museum was definitely at the top of her list today.

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T
HE miniscule tiles ranged from shades of gold and deep brown to light tan and white. Zoe took a few steps back and the tiles merged together into a smooth gradation of color in the wing of the game bird. It sat on a table among the mix of food items that looked as realistic as a photo.

The mosaics were like Impressionistic paintings, Zoe thought. From a distance, the colors blended, but close inspection showed the individual parts, like the brush strokes—or in the case of the mosaics, the individual tiles. Zoe moved on to another item at the exhibit, a fountain tiled in intricate scallops of green, blue, yellow, and red tiles. As Zoe studied the fountain, she felt the gaze of one of the museum’s docents on her. Zoe could understand why. There was only so long you could hang around a museum exhibit without attracting attention. As much as she loved the mosaics and the other items from Pompeii, even she was ready to move on. She’d examined every aspect of the exhibit from the well-preserved furniture to the casts of human bodies and their pets, which had been made as the site was excavated.

A large group with a tour guide shifted around her, and Zoe moved on to the next display, the mosaic of the guard dog. It was her third inspection of this particular exhibit. She’d already circulated through the rest of the museum, hitting the highpoints: the Rosetta Stone, the mummies, and the Elgin Marbles. Now, not sure what else to do, she’d returned to the Pompeii area.

One person from the tour group lingered, hovering slightly behind Zoe’s right shoulder. With her peripheral vision she could just make out that it was a man a few inches taller than her with a solid build and wavy dark hair in a double-breasted wool coat. They stood in silence for a moment, both looking at the mosaic. With her gaze still focused on the tiny squares, Zoe said, “You couldn’t have just sent me an email?”

“My first choice was a singing telegram, but that was out of the question.”

A surge of relief shot through her as she heard Jack’s voice. “Too showy?

“Unfortunately, yes. And I knew that wouldn’t get me any bonus points with you, which I’m sure I need.”

“Six months. It’s been six months.” She couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice as she turned to him. “I was beginning to think you really were dead.”

“There are certain people who I need to think exactly that. There’s a good reason I’ve been lying low.”

“Why don’t you explain it to me.”

He stepped back. “Meet me in the Great Court restaurant in five minutes.”

Zoe darted after him. There was no way she was letting him out of her sight, but he’d picked the perfect moment to leave. He slipped out the doorway seconds before a new tour group filtered in, blocking her exit. She fought her way through the doorway and found the next room empty except for a man in a brown sweater and a woman holding tightly to a child’s hand.

Exasperated, Zoe hurried through the displays and across the central area that had once been an open courtyard but was now topped with a steel and glass roof. Weak sunlight penetrated through a thin sheen of clouds and threw a grid pattern of shadows from the ceiling’s steel beams across the court. The museum’s circular Reading Room stood at the center of the Great Court, and she trotted up the stairs that wrapped around the curved wall of the Reading Room to the restaurant.

She hustled into the restaurant and spotted Jack at one of the tables at the back near the low wall that separated the restaurant from the area where a few people were strolling, taking in the view of the court below. His coat was over the back of the chair, and he had on a dark suit with a light blue dress shirt and gray tie. The lunch rush was over and there were only a smattering of people at the other tables. He stood as she approached, smiled politely, and pulled out her chair.

That small, reticent smile slowed her approach. She’d been raising her arm to reach for him, to give him a hug or at least a kiss on the cheek like she and Nico had exchanged, but she slipped into the seat instead.

They looked at each other for a moment. At first glance, he looked the same from his silver-blue eyes down to the tiny scar slightly off-center on his chin, but he had dark circles under his eyes. He was also shooting quick glances around the restaurant as well as the walking area that surrounded it. He’d always been one to hold back, be reserved and cautious, but there was an extra layer of wariness overlaying him now.

The waiter approached and placed a mug in front of her and a bottled water in front of Jack. “I ordered you a hot chocolate. They don’t have ginger ale.”

“Thanks,” she said, a little surprised that he’d thought to ask for her favorite drink.

“Do you want anything else?” Jack asked, and Zoe shook her head. She’d had a sandwich in the museum’s café earlier. Now her stomach was churning. “Just the drinks for now,” Jack said to the hovering waiter, who removed their menus and left.

She smoothed her hand across the white tablecloth. “Quite a place to meet.” Her gaze strayed to the rooftop of the ancient temple that they were on eyelevel with.

“It’s quieter up here, less people, but still a public place.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “I’m trying to avoid a repeat of last time. Less chance of you punching me here.”

“It was a kick to the gut, and I didn’t know it was you.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement of her point. “Why did you wait so long to come?”

“I got your package a few days ago.” His gaze snapped to her face, and she realized that he wasn’t only wary of what was going on around them, he was wary of her, of her reaction. “You thought I intentionally blew you off?” she asked. “I can’t believe this. If you wanted me here sooner, you should have used FedEx, not my mother, to send me a package. You know how unreliable she is. You’re lucky I got it at all.” Some of the tension seemed to go out of him, and he leaned back slightly in his chair.

“There I was,” Zoe continued, “sitting on my hands for
months
, waiting for you to contact me. I knew you would...after the way we left things in Italy.” She felt her cheeks heat up at the thought of that kiss. She wished her skin wasn’t so fair, that it didn’t betray her every emotion so transparently. “Didn’t you talk to Nico? Didn’t he tell you what I said?”

“Nico and I don’t talk. It’s too dangerous.”

“But he said you went to see him in Naples.”

“I had to see him face-to-face that one time, but since then we communicate only through the boards. I can’t risk contacting him or you via e-mail or snail mail.”

“But you sent me that sketch through the mail,” Zoe said.

“And that was risky. I could only do that once.”

“So the safer thing to do was mail a package to my mom?” Zoe asked. “You know what she’s like.”

He shrugged. “It was the only thing I could work out. You don’t have an office where I could call you anonymously. My only other roundabout ways to contact you were through Helen or your Aunt Amanda, and I knew the Feds would be watching to see if I got in touch with you through them. I didn’t know any of your clients, so I couldn’t go that route. That left your mom. The fact that you don’t interact with her regularly is a plus. I knew she was unreliable. It was a risk I had to take after I escaped in Venice—”

“Escaped? What do you mean
escaped
? No one could find you. They all thought you’d drowned.”

Jack watched her a moment. “Who told you I’d drowned?”

“The
polizia
,” she said quickly then stopped, her thoughts whirling. She tilted her head, thinking over those confusing hours. “No. At first, they wouldn’t tell me anything. Then later, the next day, they showed me their report that said witnesses saw you go under. It said you didn’t resurface.” Zoe leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “Are you saying the police took you into custody—secretly—and faked a report? Why would they do that?”

“It wasn’t the police who had me. Well, it was at first. I went to them, actually.” He laughed. “Ironic, now that I think about it. There I was dripping wet, essentially turning myself in, although I didn’t realize it at the time. There were several witnesses who saw me come out of the water. In fact, they pulled me out.”

“That’s not what the police told me.”

“No, they wouldn’t, at least not after they got their instructions.”

“I’m confused. Who gave them instructions?”

“That’s what I’ve been working out for the last several months.”

“Start over from the moment you came out of the water. What happened?”

“Some helpful bystanders bundled me up in blankets—tourists falling into the canals aren’t all that unusual—and waited for the police to show up, which they did. They immediately took me off to a local precinct-type place, which I’d expected. There was quite a bit to sort out. They gave me dry clothes and took my statement. They assumed I was a tourist and had one of their officers translate for me. It was simpler for me to speak English. They didn’t know I could speak some Italian. They put me in a cell and went to make ‘some inquiries.’ I figured it could take a few hours to sort it all out, but by the next morning, I was worried. I could hear two of the officers and understood enough of their conversation to know they were transferring me to an address in the city, an abandoned building apparently. Another party would arrive to pick me up after the police left. When the second officer questioned this, he was told to shut up, and forget he’d ever seen me.”

“But the report, the witnesses...” Zoe trailed off as she remembered Nico’s words about undercurrents and things not being as they appeared. “So you’re saying someone, someone powerful, arranged to have you transferred out of Italian police custody?”

“Yes.”

“Victor Costa?”

Jack had been doing a quick visual sweep of their surroundings, but his gaze snapped back to her. “How do you know about him?”

“I’ve been doing a little research of my own. Keep going. I’ll tell you later.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Well, I knew I didn’t want to find out who wanted me, at least not that way, so during the transfer, I engineered a boat accident and made it look as if I’d drowned. I put on a good show for the spectators—flaying around helplessly as I went under a few times—then I swam under the water as far as I could before coming up for air. I worked my way over to another street without being spotted. This time when some kindly Venetians fished me out of the canal, I didn’t go to the police.”

“You went to Nico.”

“Yes. It took me a while to get to Naples. I had to do it quietly.”

“How? You didn’t have any money, clothes, or even a passport.”

He traced a line on the tablecloth. “I had some strategically placed assets.”

“Friends?” Zoe asked, thinking of the assets—people—Jack cultivated in his former spy life.

“A bank account in Geneva.”

Zoe threw herself back against her chair. “Terrific. A secret bank account.”

“They’re not as secure as they once were before the privacy laws changed, but I had to risk it.”

“No, I meant the FBI will love that.”

“What?”

“Later,” Zoe said. “Let’s stay focused on your tale here. I’ll add my two cents when you’re done.”

“Tale? You think I’m making this up?”

“Unfortunately, no. Not after this past week, I don’t.” He frowned. She waved her hand. “You got money from your secret stash and went to see Nico. Then what?”

“Then, Nico and I made a two-pronged plan. His job was to get your ring back. I went after Costa.”

Zoe ran her hand along the edge of the tablecloth. “Thanks for that—for getting the ring and sending it to me.”