her train of thought. âWhy did you pick on London and Scottish in the first place? Was their security crap? Or did you think no one would suspect someone in France of defrauding a British company?â
Thierry shrugged. âEverythingâs international now. Lots of French people have policies with London and Scottish.â
âDid you?â
âYes. All my family did.â His eyelids flickered down. Something in his tense pose told her he didnât want to talk about this but was forcing himself for the sake of honesty. That meant something, surely.
âIt was personal,â Louise said slowly. âYou had a grudge against them. Did you work for them too?â
âGod, no. I did something much more trivial for a computer game company. For a bit, anyway. The hacking was a side skill Iâd been honing since I was at school.â
âBut you didnât rob them for fun,â Louise said with certainty.
âNo,â Thierry agreed. The smiling waiter appeared to remove their main course and Thierry asked him for the dessert menu. He refilled his own glass, added a splash to Louiseâs, which was still half-full.
He could have changed the subject. It would have seemed natural at that point and Louise expected him to seize the opportunity. He didnât.
âI needed the money,â he said.
Louise waved one impatient hand. âNo one needs that amount of money.â
âTrue. But if youâre going to be hung for a lambâ¦â
Clearly, he meant to leave it there. Louise didnât. âWhat did you need money for?â she pursued, thinking of the kind of debts a wild young man could accumulate for house and car, fabulous sound systems, gambling debts, maybe, even drugs. But again Thierry surprised her.
He said, âI lost my job.â
She blinked. âCouldnât you get another? Arenât game programmers in high demand?â
âI was short on time. The company closed down its Paris operation, moved everything back to the States. They offered me a position there, but I couldnât take it.â He stopped talking, pushed at his plate. âI had other responsibilities.â
âSick parents?â she guessed, since the subject was close to her.
He shook his head. âNot then. My father died when I was a kid.â He paused again, as if he wanted that to be enough; he didnât want to talk about this, yet seemed to force himself. âMy sister was sick, and my mother couldnât cope. I thought, in a way, that redundancy might be a blessing. Iâd have some time to be with them while I searched for something else. Looking back, I should just have gone to America and sent back everything I earned. But that boat had sailed before we had my sisterâs final diagnosis.â
Louise felt her stomach twinge in sympathy. âWhich was?â
He grabbed his glass, twisting the stem between his fingers. âCancer. A rare form, generally regarded as untreatable. She never had much chance, but there was hope in some new, horrendously expensive drug treatment.â
He took a drink, set down the glass, staring at its swirling contents rather than at Louise. âThe state wouldnât pay for anything so experimental and with such low odds of survival, but we had health insurance. Iâd taken it out for all of us when I started to earn good money.â
âWith London and Scottish,â Louise murmured, beginning to see the picture. âThey wouldnât pay out.â
âNo, they wouldnât. They claimed we werenât covered for a pre-existing condition, and the doctors all agreed this cancer had been growing undetected in my sister for years, that sheâd had it when the policy was taken out. So even though we hadnât known, they wouldnât pay.â His gaze flickered to Louise. âShe was fourteen years old.â
Louise swallowed. âIâm sorry,â she
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