Stepping intoRobert’s office was a relief.
Adele could feelher shoulders sagging as if a weight were lifted as she stepped through thedoor with a quiet knock on the frame. The day’s travel weighed heavy, but herspirits lifted as she scanned the familiar room. The walls still carried thesame framed pictures of old race cars and beneath them shelves of dusty bookswith cracked leather covers. Two desks now sat in the room. The second desk hadbeen placed by the window with an upright leather swivel chair behind it. Onthe desk a small, golden nameplate read, Adele Sharp.
Hearing a manclear his throat, she redirected her attention to the first desk and itsoccupant.
Robert Henry wasalready standing. He often stood when a woman entered the room. The short manwas straight-backed with a long, curling mustache oiled and dyed black. He worea fine-fitting suit, which Adele guessed had been tailored specifically forhim. Robert came from wealth; he didn’t need the job at the DGSI, but heenjoyed it. Perhaps this was the reason he had one of the best records at thedepartment. Robert had once played soccer for a semi-professional team inItaly, but had returned to France when he’d been recruited by the Frenchgovernment long before DGSI existed.
The small Frenchman examined Adele for a moment, but his eyes twinkled, betraying the smilewhich hid behind his lips.
“Hello,” saidAdele, unable to resist a smile of her own.
Robert Henrysmirked now, flashing a row of pearly whites missing two teeth. Adele had heardmany stories to how he’d lost the teeth, each of them more far-fetched than theother.
They held eyecontact across the room, watching each other for a moment.
Then Adele said,“You use too many emojis.” Some of her bad temper from earlier began to fade inthe face of her old mentor and friend.
Robert sniffed. “Iconsider it an art form.”
“Mhmm,” saidAdele. “Weren’t you the one who told me the advent of cartoons was the death ofculture?”
Robert set hisshoulders and with a prim wiggle of his chin replied, “A genteel man knows howto admit when he’s wrong.”
Adele’s smirkturned to a good-natured grin. Robert Henry had been like a father to her formany years. Her own father wasn’t a fan of affection, but Robert was the sortwho went out of his way to make sure Adele felt welcomed and comforted. Robertowned a mansion, but he lived in it alone, and often welcomed the opportunityto have guests. Adele would be staying at his house for her time in France.
“Took you awhile,” said Robert, glancing at his watch. The glistening silver timepiece lookedlike the sort of item that might’ve belonged on a banker’s wrist. Robertadjusted his cuff links and nestled the watch beneath the edge of his perfectlypressed sleeve.
Adele leaned hersuitcase against the doorframe, placing her laptop bag on the floor. “Whoeverscheduled my flight gave me a three-hour layover in London,” she said. “Then ittook some time getting the car—we had to walk to the other side of the airport.Someone more petty might think she did it on purpose just to frustrate me.”
Robert frowned. “She?Who did Foucault pair you with?”
Instead ofanswering, Adele strode across the room and extended her hands, embracing thesmaller man. She wasn’t particularly tall, but Robert was still three inchesshorter. She hugged her old mentor, and felt a warmth through her chest. He wassmaller than she remembered, though. Almost… frail. Though Robert dyed his hairand his mustache, Adele couldn’t shake the notion he was aging. She separatedfrom her old friend and smiled again. “We’ll be working out of your office, Ihear,” she said.
Robert patted heron the shoulder in a comforting way. “Yes—that’s yours.” He nodded to the deskwith the name plate.
“You put it bythe window. I appreciate that.”
“I remember howyou liked the view last time you were here,” said Robert with a shrug. Helowered his hand and moved back to his own desk chair, emitting a quiet groanas he lowered himself, settling with a soft sigh.
“You all right?”asked Adele.
Robert nodded,waving away any further questions with a dismissive gesture. “Yes, of course.The old bones just don’t move like they used to. I’m afraid I won’t be in thefield with you.”
Adele gave anoncommittal nod. “Figured you wouldn’t be. We just need someone to keep trackof things back here, anyhow.”
Robert was nolonger smiling. His gaze seemed heavy all of a sudden.
“You’re not sick,are you?” Adele blurted out. She wasn’t sure where the question came from, butit ushered forth before she could stop it.
Robert smiledand shook his head. “No, not that I’m aware of. But,” he tapped his fingersagainst his desk, and then glanced at the computer screen across from him, “I’mlearning how to use it better. Email is hard. But I figured, well, for yoursake…” He trailed off, glancing at her.
Adele felt aflush of gratitude. She knew how much Robert despised technology. Despite thenumber of emojis he used in his texting, he’d been stubborn on the advent ofcomputers. Still, she had demanded Interpol allow Robert to be a part of herteam. That was the deal she’d made with Ms. Jayne when hashing out thecontract.
At the time, she’dheard whispers and rumors that the DGSI was trying to edge Robert out of hisposition—a mandatory retirement. She felt a flash of frustration. The thoughtof anyone taking Robert’s job was unconscionable. They’d built DGSI’s homicidedivision, in part, with his efforts. He had made a name at other agencies longbefore the DGSI had even formed, which had attracted many new recruits. Adelerespected most of the agents who worked for France’s intelligence agencies, butthere were none she respected more than Robert. He was clever in an intuitivesort of way, and he was rarely wrong. The last case in Paris, he’d insisted thekiller had natural red hair, and he’d noted the vanity of it. She hadn’t beensure, but in the end, it had proven an accurate deduction.
Still, sheremembered her interactions with Executive Foucault. The frown on his face whenshe requested Robert’s help. The agency was trying to whittle back personnel.Now, though, with his help on the Interpol attaché, she’d tied Foucault’shands.
“I need you,”she said, simply. “You’re the best at
