blue-gray eyes, weighing approximately sixty kilograms, was considered dangerous. The public was warned not to approach him.
Suddenly a reporter, someone called Laurent Messier, appeared on-screen with a microphone. Max immediately recognized the building behind him as the hospital in Pau.
“I am here at the hospital in Pau, where the boy, Max Gordon, was brought following the avalanche at Mont la Croix and where he was examined by neurologist Dr. Fabian Vagnier.”
The microphone moved a few centimeters towards the consultant’s mouth. He appeared appropriately somber, his own desire for recognition bending the truth as he rattled off words too fast and technical for Max to catch, but when the reporter spoke to the camera again, he emphasized words Max did understand:
Everyone stood in shock. The comtesse killed the sound, then stared at Max. It was Sayid who broke the silence.
“I didn’t get all that. What was that bit at the end?”
Still no one moved.
“A French doctor said he did a brain scan on Max after the avalanche and that he found brain activity which was usually associated with violent behavior,” Sophie said quietly. “A killer’s behavior.”
“Bloody hell,” Sayid said under his breath.
Everyone was looking at Max. He rolled up his sleeve, showing the comtesse and Sophie the faded scratch marks. “I tried to save Zabala. He fell, he scratched my arm and grabbed my father’s watch. I didn’t kill him. But I did see the killer.”
“You recognized him?” Sophie said quickly, barely able to keep the alarm out of her voice.
Max hesitated but kept his eyes locked on hers. “No, they were too far away.”
She nodded and looked down.
Max turned to the comtesse. “I promise you, Comtesse, I did not kill him.”
She had not moved, but the knife in her hand was slightly higher than before, held in a defensive gesture. Then, after a moment, she lowered it and nodded.
“Of course you did not. I believe you. But now you are in very serious trouble.” She looked at the silent screen, and they followed her gaze.
A picture of Max filled the frame and emblazoned below it were the words
Max Gordon: Wanted for Murder.
15
Max had, as always, very little to pack-travel light, travel fast. He weighed his options as he rolled his trousers and T-shirts and stuffed them into the backpack. How best to escape the police hunt and the attacks of whoever wanted him dead? He was beginning to feel like a fish caught in a net. Squirming to breathe, he knew panic was just waiting to smother him, and that was when big mistakes were made. Well, he wouldn’t panic. He’d make a plan.
“You have to tell the police everything, Max,” Sayid said, interrupting his thoughts.
“No. I turn myself in now and we’ll
“What do you mean?” Sophie asked.
Still unable to read her intention, Max held her gaze.
“How did they find Zabala’s body?” Max said.
“There must have been a melt,” she said.
“But there hasn’t been. You saw the news; they went straight to the spot where he fell.”
“Someone told them!” Sayid said.
“That’s right. And who knew?”
“The killer,” Sophie said calmly.
It wasn’t a guess, it was stating the obvious, but why did such a bare fact feel like a challenge? Max wondered. Was it the way she said it-so coolly?
He nodded. “Whoever’s been chasing me needs me in a place where they can get whatever information I have. Setting the French police force onto me is a hell of a way of getting me pinned down, wouldn’t you say?”
“You lied to me. You went to Zabala’s hut to look for something. What?”
“I wanted to find out more about him,” Max told her, still unwilling to let her know too much until he determined how involved she was.
“And that’s why you went to the chateau?”
“Because I discovered that’s where he once worked.”
“And isn’t it all obvious to you now?” Sophie could barely keep the irritation out of her voice. “It’s the animal smugglers. They’re the ones responsible. You should have told me. You should have trusted me.”
Max knew it was far more than animal smugglers. The German had waited at d’Abbadie’s chateau until Max had discovered the drawing on the pendant. It was only then that they attacked.
“I’m sorry, Sophie. The less you knew, the better. I didn’t know how dangerous it was going to be.” He still didn’t want to tell her anything more.
“Is there any other reason you think Zabala died? Other than being murdered by animal smugglers?” Sophie asked, staring straight into Max’s eyes.
Sayid looked worried. Was Max going to tell her everything? He didn’t trust Sophie. (A) She was a girl who was good at just about all the things Sayid couldn’t do. (B) She had crept into his friendship with Max-so he was a bit jealous. (C) She was making a play for Max, and that was so obvious that even the old clock on the wall could have noticed. (D) She seemed to be in the exact place where Max was, when it mattered, like at Zabala’s hut, and just before the avalanche, when he saved her from the bikers. (E) Well, Sayid could probably come up with a whole alphabet of reasons why he didn’t trust Sophie Fauvre.
“I don’t know why he was killed,” Max told her. “But there might be another reason other than animal smugglers. Though I’m not sure what it is yet.” Max chucked one of Sayid’s T-shirts at him. “C’mon, Sayid. There isn’t much time.”
“Wait a minute,” Sophie said. “Where are you going?” “Where I think Zabala’s clues want me to go.” She waited, but Max said nothing more. He was waiting for her response. She looked concerned. All Max was certain about was that in a short while he had to get clear across France without being spotted. And that was going to be pretty near impossible. He had deliberately said very little to Sophie. The triangle etched on the pendant pinpointed Sophie’s country of birth. With her involvement in the endangered-species trade and her mysterious appearance on the mountain, he was convinced she was caught up in this whole thing far more than she had told him. What Max had told no one was that he had to get to the Atlas Mountains in Morocco. He needed her to open the way for him.
“You should come home with me,” she said.
“Why would I do that?” Max said, barely able to conceal his relief-this was exactly what he had wanted her to say.
“Because you would be safe. For a while, at least. And then you can decide what you want to do. My family owes you. My father would be honored to help you.”
“Thanks. Give me a minute to think about it. I need a word with Sayid.”
She left the room and Max closed the door. Sayid shook his head.
“You’re crazy, Max. Y’know, things about her don’t feel right.”
“It’s what I have to do, Sayid.”
“What? Walk deliberately into a trap?”
“Keep your voice down. We don’t know exactly how she’s involved. Not yet.”
“I think a boulder must have hit you on the head in that avalanche. You’re getting deeper and deeper into
