The Fifth Profession

assessing the other passengers.

“My husband won't be satisfied until he gets me back. When he learns where I am, he'll put my sister's estate under constant watch. I'll never be able to leave.”

“Yes and no. There are ways to sneak out.”

“‘Sneak.’ Exactly. But away from my sister's estate, I'd never feel safe. Wherever I went, I'd have to use another name, disguise my appearance, try not to be conspicuous. Sneak. For the rest of my life.”

“It's not as bad as that.”

“It is.” Rachel jerked her head toward the passengers across the aisle and behind her, embarrassed for having raised her voice. She whispered, her words intense, “I'm terrified. What happens to other people you've rescued?”

Savage was forced to lie. Anytime someone needed a protector with Savage's expertise, he knew that their problems were only temporarily solved. He didn't cancel danger; he merely postponed it. “They get on with their lives.”

“Bullshit. Predators don't give up.”

Savage didn't respond.

“I'm right?”

Savage glanced toward the aisle.

“Hey, damn it, I looked at you. Now you look at me,” Rachel said.

“Okay. If you want my opinion, your husband's too arrogant to admit defeat. Yes, you'll have to be careful.”

“Oh, that's just fucking swell.” She yanked her hand from his.

“You wanted the truth.”

“And I sure got it.”

“The usual option is to negotiate.”

“Don't talk to me like a lawyer.”

“So what do you want?”

“For the past couple days, as horrible as they've been, I've never felt safer-better-than being with you. You made me feel… important, comforted, respected. You treated me like I meant everything to you.”

“You did.”

“As a client,” Rachel said. “And if you deliver me to my sister, you'll be paid.”

“You don't know anything about me,” Savage said. “I don't risk my life just for the money. I do this because people need me. But I can't stay forever with…”

“Everyone who needs you?”

“Sooner or later, I have to let go. Your sister's waiting for you.”

“And then you forget me?”

“Never,” Savage said.

“Then take me with you.”

“What? To New York?”

“I won't feel safe without you.”

“Rachel, three weeks from now, sipping champagne at the pool on your sister's estate, you won't remember me.”

“For the right kind of man, I'm stubbornly loyal.”

“I've had this conversation before,” Savage said. “Many times. The man who taught me…”

“Graham.”

“Yes. He always insisted, ‘Never involve yourself with a client.’ And he was right. Because emotion causes mistakes. And mistakes are fatal.”

“I'd do anything for you.”

“Like follow me to hell?”

“I promised that.”

“And you survived. But Akira and I have our own kind of hell, and we need to understand why it happened. Believe me, you'd interfere. Enjoy your sister's pool… And think of two men trying to solve a nightmare.”

“Hold still for a minute.”

“Why?”

Rachel leaned toward him, gripping the sides of his face.

Savage squirmed.

“No,” Rachel said, “hold still.”

“But…”

“Quiet.” Rachel kissed him. Her lips barely touched his, making them tingle. She gradually increased pressure, her mouth fully on him. Her tongue probed, sliding, darting. “

Savage didn't resist, but despite his erection, he didn't encourage her, either.

She slowly pulled away.

“Rachel, you're beautiful.”

Rachel looked proud.

Savage traced a finger along her cheek.

She shivered.

“I can't,” Savage said, “betray the rules. I'll take you to your sister. Then Akira and I will go to New York.”

She jerked away from him. “I can't wait to see my sister.”

10

They landed outside Nice shortly after four P.M. Savage had phoned Joyce Stone before he, Akira, and Rachel had flown from Corfu. Now, as they entered the airport's customs-immigration area, a slender man wearing an impeccably tailored gray suit stepped past other arriving passengers toward them. He had an identification pin in his lapel, though Savage didn't know what the pin's striped colors signified. A uniformed guard walked behind him.

“Monsieur Savage?” the distinguished-looking man asked.

“Yes.”

“Would the three of you come with us, please?”

Akira showed no sign of tension, except for a brief frown toward Savage, who nodded reassuringly and held Rachel's hand.

They entered a room to the side. The guard shut the door. The distinguished-looking man sat behind a desk.

“Monsieur, as you're aware, visitors to France are required to present not only a passport but an immigration visa.”

“Yes. I'm sure you'll find these in order.” Savage placed his passport and visa on the table. Before the assignment, knowing he'd have to take Rachel to France, he'd instructed Joyce Stone to obtain visas for the two of them.

The official glanced through the documents.

“And this is Miss Stone's passport,” Savage said. Because Rachel had been forced to use her sister's passport instead of her own, and because her sister had become a French citizen, it wasn't necessary to present her immigration visa.

The official examined the passport. “Excellent.” He didn't seem at all impressed that he was theoretically talking to a woman of fame and power.

Savage gestured toward Akira. “My friend has his passport, but I'm afraid he neglected to obtain a visa.”

“Yes, so an influential acquaintance of yours has explained to me. However, while you were en route, that oversight was corrected.” The official placed a visa on the table and held out his hand for Akira's passport.

After flipping through it, he stamped all the documents and returned them. “Have you anything to declare to