Fisher screamed and writhed in agony, tearing at his bonds as the flames swallowed him whole.
Shaking off the thought, Ames let go of the Zippo and reached for the satellite phone Stingray had given him. He dialed the number, heard the man’s key code, then returned his own code, the tones communicating that they were both free to talk.
“We’ve split up,” Ames said abruptly.
“I know where you are now.”
“Moreau’s off-line.”
“How long ago did you hear from him?”
“A minute.”
Stingray swore and said, “All right. I’ll let them know.”
“You do that.”
After he hung up, it occurred to Ames to check the train schedule. He consulted his watch, then said, in French, to the wizened man behind the glass partition, “Did a train just leave?”
The old man frowned. “If you want to speak French, okay… ”
Ames had forgotten that he was not in France anymore, and in Luxembourg they spoke Luxembourgish, a high dialect of German, as well as some French and German.
“The train?”
“You missed it. Five minutes ago.”
“And that was the last train for the night?”
The old man nodded.
“You see a guy come here and buy a ticket?”
The man made a face. “I see a lot of them.”
“Guy in a red shirt? No, wait, uh… ” Ames reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture of Fisher. “This guy.”
The man frowned at the photograph. “I don’t really look at people when I sell tickets.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t.”
“Even the hot women?”
“No.”
“So you didn’t see this guy?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“Maybe is not an answer.” Ames hardened his tone. “Did you see him or not?”
“Are you the police? Where’s your ID?”
Ames sighed and turned away. There was a strong chance that Fisher could have run from the stadium or gotten a ride and caught that train. He walked back to the SUV, opened the door, and said, “I’m bored. Let’s have sex.”
Gillespie spoke through her teeth. “I would rather eat your entrails.”
“Oh, Pippi, my dear, Pippi. I guess you would. You want the good news or the bad?”
She rolled her eyes. “What now?”
“Last train already left. We might’ve missed him.”
“I’ll call Hansen.”
“Don’t. Not yet.”
“Why?”
He wriggled his brows. “Because I want to talk to you.”
She smirked and activated her OPSAT. “Ben, it’s Kim. We’re at the station here. Last train left already.”
“Roger that. Hold position. If he missed it, Fisher might think there’s another train.”
“All right.” She glanced up at Ames. “Get back to the station.”
“No.” He grinned.
“If you’re insubordinate, we can get you removed. Don’t put that past me.”
He nodded slowly, then narrowed his gaze on her, making sure she could feel its heat. “You let him go, didn’t you?”
Her brows tightened. “What’re you talking about?”
“You had Fisher, up on that roof. You had him in your sights, but you let him go.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“I got your back, but I’m not sure if you got mine — and you owe me that…
“Get back to the station.”
“Okay. But if I see Fisher, I won’t let him go. I’ll shoot him. You hear me?”
She shook her head. “Just get out.”
“I don’t want to be mean to you. And I want you to think about what I’ve said.”
“I’m about to draw my pistol.”
“Me, too.” He winked.
Ames exited the SUV and smiled to himself as he started back for the station. Gillespie had some nice color in her cheeks now.
Rumelange, population about four thousand, was known for its underground iron mines; otherwise, it was but a blip on Valentina’s map, and she and Noboru had established an effective observation post off the main highway near a small petrol station. They began to survey the main road with their night-vision binoculars.
“You see anything?” she asked.
“No.”
And then, two minutes later:
“You see anything?” he asked.
“No.”
And then another two minutes later:
“You see any—”
He cut her off with a loud sigh. “I don’t see anything but a beautiful woman next to me.”
Had he said that aloud?
He wasn’t sure.
“Nathan, can I ask you something?”
“Hello, Nathan. Are you with me?”
“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”
“You were born and raised in the United States, right?”
“Yeah. I lived in San Francisco until I was about sixteen; then my parents moved back to Japan.”
“Who taught you how to treat women?”
“That’s a weird question. My mom, probably… She never let my dad get away with anything. Women have come a long way in Japan, but there are still a lot of old-school attitudes there. My father was pretty open- minded.”
She began to say something, stopped, then finally: “I know it’s not right for me to be attracted to you.”
He glanced over at her, his heart beginning to race. “I’m… sorry.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. We’re going to do a good job here. I’ve wanted to be a Splinter Cell more than anything.”
“Me, too.”
“So we have to think about that.”
She grinned weakly. “I know. It’s not like I’m Kim and sleeping with Fisher.”
“Maya, I think you like me because I treat you like an equal, not because you like
“That’s not true.”
