around.”
Ollie took out a small, slim cell phone and punched a single digit.
“I’m awaiting orders, Ms. Pioche, but I have yet to figure out whether you’re helping this young woman.” Ollie beamed at Annja.
“Oh, God.” Ms. Pioche leaned back in her chair. “Annja Creed, I apologize for my behavior and would like to do my best to help you rescue your kidnapped friend.”
The woman stood and offered her hand. “Although you obviously do not know the history involved in this situation, I hope we can put that aside and bring your friend—Mr. Edmund Beswick—home safely.”
Annja took the offered hand and felt the calm, cool strength of it. “Roux said you were the best at this. Please, call me Annja.”
Her blue eyes glittered. “I am. On that we can agree. My name is Fiona.” She waved Annja toward a chair beside Gaetano.
Ollie spoke rapidly on the phone and put it away. “The physician is on his way.”
Gaetano shifted in his chair. “Being able to call a physician in so quickly is most impressive.”
“Not so impressive. He has an office in this building.”
“Still, proximity alone—”
“I also own the building.”
Gaetano was silent for a moment. “That, too, is most impressive.”
Well, that explains the office space. Annja settled into her chair as Fiona did the same across the wide expanse of the ornate desk.
“Ollie has been sending me files all morning, since I got Roux’s call predicament. Apparently, Jean-Baptiste Laframboise is a criminal of the worst cut. And you don’t know where your friend is.”
“I have a lead.”
Fiona looked at Annja.
“He’s being held somewhere on the Isle of Dogs. And by now Laframboise also has the object he’s been searching for.”
“How do you know this?” Her blue eyes searched Annja’s face.
“Because it was in the storage unit and I lost it to one of Laframboise’s men.”
Gaetano sat up straighter. “ We lost it.”
“Ollie, be a dear and have Jenkins bring the car around.” Fiona Pioche stood, opened a locked desk drawer and took out a small black automatic. She slipped the pistol into place at the small of her back, then turned and opened a hidden compartment in the wall. She took out a thigh-length shapeless beige jacket and pulled it on.
“Would you like me to accompany you, Ms. Pioche?” Ollie asked.
“That won’t be necessary.” She nodded at Annja. “Annja and I should be able to handle things for the moment.” She took out extra magazines for the pistol and an elegant cell phone, then dropped them into her jacket pockets. “I’ll need you to take care of Mr. Carlini and keep me apprised of any developments we may need to know about.”
“Of course.” Ollie was all business now.
The woman took a tiny earpiece from a small box and slipped it into her ear. She looked at Annja. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Annja had chafed at waiting. If she’d known where to go, she’d have gone already.
Fiona walked to a back corner of the room, pressed a hidden button, and a section of the wall swung out to reveal a passageway. Without another word, she stepped through the secret door.
12
Evidently once Fiona Pioche made up her mind about a course of action, things happened quickly. Annja was hard-pressed to keep up with the woman as they strode down the long, narrow tunnel.
“Private route to the parking garage.” Fiona had her hands in her jacket and her eyes fixed straight ahead. “That’s one of the reasons to own the building.”
“It wasn’t just the office space?”
Fiona laughed in delight. “Don’t make me laugh. I’d rather not like you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re with Roux.”
Annja thought about that for only a moment before the ramifications of that declaration set in. “Eww!” She looked at the older woman. “When you say with, are you talking about—” She couldn’t go on.
“Sleeping with him?” Fiona’s eyebrows arched. “Of course. What else would I be talking about?”
Annja cringed.
Her
Ollie took out a small, slim cell phone and punched a single digit.
“I’m awaiting orders, Ms. Pioche, but I have yet to figure out whether you’re helping this young woman.” Ollie beamed at Annja.
“Oh, God.” Ms. Pioche leaned back in her chair. “Annja Creed, I apologize for my behavior and would like to do my best to help you rescue your kidnapped friend.”
The woman stood and offered her hand. “Although you obviously do not know the history involved in this situation, I hope we can put that aside and bring your friend—Mr. Edmund Beswick—home safely.”
Annja took the offered hand and felt the calm, cool strength of it. “Roux said you were the best at this. Please, call me Annja.”
Her blue eyes glittered. “I am. On that we can agree. My name is Fiona.” She waved Annja toward a chair beside Gaetano.
Ollie spoke rapidly on the phone and put it away. “The physician is on his way.”
Gaetano shifted in his chair. “Being able to call a physician in so quickly is most impressive.”
“Not so impressive. He has an office in this building.”
“Still, proximity alone—”
“I also own the building.”
Gaetano was silent for a moment. “That, too, is most impressive.”
Well, that explains the office space. Annja settled into her chair as Fiona did the same across the wide expanse of the ornate desk.
“Ollie has been sending me files all morning, since I got Roux’s call predicament. Apparently, Jean-Baptiste Laframboise is a criminal of the worst cut. And you don’t know where your friend is.”
“I have a lead.”
Fiona looked at Annja.
“He’s being held somewhere on the Isle of Dogs. And by now Laframboise also has the object he’s been searching for.”
“How do you know this?” Her blue eyes searched Annja’s face.
“Because it was in the storage unit and I lost it to one of Laframboise’s men.”
Gaetano sat up straighter. “ We lost it.”
“Ollie, be a dear and have Jenkins bring the car around.” Fiona Pioche stood, opened a locked desk drawer and took out a small black automatic. She slipped the pistol into place at the small of her back, then turned and opened a hidden compartment in the wall. She took out a thigh-length shapeless beige jacket and pulled it on.
“Would you like me to accompany you, Ms. Pioche?” Ollie asked.
“That won’t be necessary.” She nodded at Annja. “Annja and I should be able to handle things for the moment.” She took out extra magazines for the pistol and an elegant cell phone, then dropped them into her jacket pockets. “I’ll need you to take care of Mr. Carlini and keep me apprised of any developments we may need to know about.”
“Of course.” Ollie was all business now.
The woman took a tiny earpiece from a small box and slipped it into her ear. She looked at Annja. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Annja had chafed at waiting. If she’d known where to go, she’d have gone already.
Fiona walked to a back corner of the room, pressed a hidden button, and a section of the wall swung out to reveal a passageway. Without another word, she stepped through the secret door.
12
Evidently once Fiona Pioche made up her mind about a course of action, things happened quickly. Annja was hard-pressed to keep up with the woman as they strode down the long, narrow tunnel.
“Private route to the parking garage.” Fiona had her hands in her jacket and her eyes fixed straight ahead. “That’s one of the reasons to own the building.”
“It wasn’t just the office space?”
Fiona laughed in delight. “Don’t make me laugh. I’d rather not like you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re with Roux.”
Annja thought about that for only a moment before the ramifications of that declaration set in. “Eww!” She looked at the older woman. “When you say with, are you talking about—” She couldn’t go on.
“Sleeping with him?” Fiona’s eyebrows arched. “Of course. What else would I be talking about?”
Annja cringed.
Her
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