Katelyn had no idea what language they were using. She spoke English only and to her it was just gibberish.

  She wanted to ask the other girls if any of them understood—but it had been made clear that first day that they were not to talk to one another for any reason whatsoever.

  Failure to obey would be punished.

  Katelyn wondered what that meant.

  She wasn’t yet ready to find out.

  A noise outside alerted them to the fact that it was time for food to be delivered. They moved toward the door as it opened revealing a young man with a large tray, which he set on the floor before shutting the door.

  The tray, they all knew by now, held just enough food and water for five servings. No more, no less.

  Masayo, the Japanese girl, was first to reach the tray. She knelt in front of it and began to divide the stew in the big bowl into equal parts.

  The others watched—silently.

  None of them dared to say a word.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dana checked in at the office early the next morning. As expected, Eric had the system up and running.

  He, on the other hand, was sagging badly.

  “What time did you finish?” Dana tapped a search command into the console on her desk, raising an eyebrow when the response came mere seconds afterwards.

  “I don’t know.” Eric hid a yawn. “What time is it now?”

  “Okay,” Dana turned to him. “Get out of here—go home and get at least six hours sleep.”

  “But…”

  “I’ve got a meeting with the bank guy this afternoon. If I take the job I’ll want you rested and clearheaded so you can understand the data we’ll be pulling.” She smiled. “You’re better at forensic accounting than I am—I’m going to have to trust you to see anything that I might miss.” She shooed him out of his chair. “Come on. Flame won’t get back until late tonight or early tomorrow.” She grinned. “He had a stopover in Rome and, unless he’s really slipping, I’m sure he’s convinced a stewardess to show him the sights.”

  “Like the Coliseum?”

  “Believe me,” Dana’s smile widened. “He’ll have other sights in mind—ones that don’t involve a great deal of outdoor activity.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’ll meet him tomorrow. We’re going to get together in Fredericksburg.”

  “What’s there?”

  “A friend—one who’s going to set you up with a handgun and a couple of lessons in how to use it.”

  “A handgun?”

  “Yup,” Dana nodded and opened the front flap of her handbag, showing him the compact little pistol that lived there. “I carry one all the time—you will too, as soon as you learn how to do it safely.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “I do.” Dana’s voice was stern. “You have to be able to defend yourself,” she said, remembering Mexico. “And back up your partners.” She headed for the door. “Now get out of here,” she held the door open for him. “You’re cutting into my travel time!”

  ***

  Dana was wrong about Flame. He hadn’t talked a Stew into showing him the sights in Rome.

  He hadn’t needed to. Gonda, it turned out, had family there. Family that was eager to show the two men a good time.

  The good time turned out to include some really delicious homemade lasagna, a few bottles of extremely good red wine and, later that evening, the rather spectacular cousin Sofia.

  Sofia and Flame soon found they had a great deal in common—including an over-riding urge to spend some time alone. They slipped away from the party before midnight and found a comfortable little hotel nearby where, sharing a little of that very good wine, they explored international relations.

  Flame almost missed his flight home—coming through the hatch just before the gate agent shut it. He winked at Gonda as he took his seat. “You have a nice family, Gino.”

  “Oh shit.” Gonda shook his head. “Am I going to be able to visit them again? I mean, you and Sofia…”

  “Had a very pleasant night.” Flame smiled. “She drove me to the airport and promised to visit if she comes to the states.” His smile widened. “She also said to tell you that Aunt Lucia has a nice girl that she wants you to meet.”

  “See,” Gonda threw up his hands. “I can’t go back again!”

  Both men laughed as the plane turned onto the active runway and started its take-off roll.

  ***

  Eric Forrest was younger than Dana would have expected. A fit fifty or so, he dressed well and spoke with a soft Georgia drawl.

  His office had, as she expected, a gorgeous view of lower New York and more square footage than the average apartment in Greenwich Village.

  “Ms. Morton.” He stood and came around from behind his desk when she arrived in the wake of his executive assistant. “Please,” he said, leading her to a pair of comfortable chairs set around a small table in the corner of the office. “Sit.” He indicated a chair. “Can I get anything for you? Water? Tea?”

  “A cup of tea would be wonderful.” The flight to LaGuardia had been mercifully short. Dana had been jammed into coach with a crying baby behind her and a businessman who overflowed from both sides of the middle seat and snored from the time they took off to the time they landed. “Tea with a little milk.”

  Forrest nodded at the assistant who hurried off to fill the order before seating himself opposite her, his back to the wall-sized window. “You know why I asked you to come here?”

  “You saw the new Jack Ryan film." She smiled. “And it gave you some concerns about your own business.”

  “I know it sounds foolish,” He leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving hers. “My wife loves movies—especially spy films and thrillers. We missed the Ryan film when it hit the theaters,” he grinned. “We were in Europe at the time.”

  “Vacation?”

  He shrugged. “Partly that, partly business.” He spread his hands. “I rarely get away from the business—particularly these days.”

  “I understand.”

  “Anyway, we try to put one evening aside each week for a ‘date night.’” He smiled. “You don’t know how difficult that is.”

  Dana could imagine.

  “In any case, last week we decided to watch Shadow Recruit.” He leaned forward. “Have you seen it?”

  “Mr. Forrest, like you,” Dana smiled, “I seldom have the spare time to enjoy myself—and have never been able to find the time for a date night.”

  “Pity.” Forrest paused as the assistant returned with a silver platter holding a delicate-looking bone china tea service and two cups. At a nod from his boss, the young man poured for Dana, adding a touch of milk before placing the cup on in front of her.

  He performed a similar service for Forrest, before leaving the room without a word.

  “Now.” Forrest took a sip of his tea. “As you know, the central theme of this film concerns a scheme to bankrupt the US by manipulating funds in various bank accounts and currencies.” He looked at her. “It sounds far-fetched but the more I watched the more I realized that it could be done by a determined individual—and the more worried I became.”

  “I thought all the big banks had layers of safeguards.”

  “We do—but there are always ways to circumvent such things.” He took another sip. “I wish I could look into things myself but, as I said…” He waved his arm around the office. “I’m kind of stuck here—and way too separated from any work that’s going on below this floor.”

  “Surely you have auditors?”

  “Of course.” Forrest drained his cup. “But they’ve been doing the job for so long—decades in some cases—that they may not recognize a really clever ploy to move money from account to account.” He shook his head. “Besides, it’s all so easy now, computer accounting, money moving around the world electronically…”

  “You want me to look into the possibility that one or more of your senior people is moving funds into offshore, untraceable, accounts.”

  “I want you to look at everything my senior people are doing financially.” He smiled. “I’m hoping that a fresh eye may see things that a more experienced—a more jaundiced eye—may not.”

  “If you’ll excuse me asking…” Dana sipped her own tea, was unsurprised to find it an excellent blend. “Why me?”

  “I have friends in government.” He kept his eyes fixed on her, his face open as he did his best to project sincerity. “They say that you’re the best at putting small bits of data together and coming to a correct conclusion.” He nodded. “They also say that you can be trusted.”

  “The NSA doesn’t think so.”

  “You and I both know what happened there.” He smiled softly. “I’m surprised that the individual responsible is still walking around Washington.”

  “Give it time.”

  “Ah.” His smile widened.

  She started to stand up, “If that’s all…”

  “There’s one more thing…” He bit at his lower lip as if embarrassed. “It’s a personal thing.”

  Dana waited.

  “My daughter…” Forrest took a deep breath. “I’m a bit concerned for her safety.” He looked up at her, eyes concerned. “There’ve been a few unexplained things—cars stopping in front of her school, men we’ve never seen before walking by our house.” He shook his head. “I have this bad feeling, I don’t know why…”

  “A hunch.” Dana nodded. “I know what hunches are like—but surely you have security?”

  “Of course—we have alarm systems at the office and around the house. They attach to 24-hour security services that respond in only a few minutes.” He took a deep breath. “But Kimberly is eighteen years old—a know-it-all at that prep school.” He shook his head. “I was like that once.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’d like to give her a bodyguard until this all shakes out and I know the truth, but she refuses to accept one—says they all look like shaven apes…”

  “My associate is an ex-Navy SEAL…” Dana smiled as she tried to imagine what he would look like to an eighteen-year-old girl. “And I can assure you he definitely does not look like a shaven ape!”

  “Flame.” Forrest nodded. “I’ve heard about him.” He looked at her. “And what the two of you did in California not all that long ago.”

  “I’ll see if he’d be willing to watch over your daughter for a week or two.” Dana rose again. “If that’s acceptable to you,” she smiled, “and her.”

  “That would be perfect.” Forrest rose and walked around his desk. “I’ll have my assistant give you all the data, passwords and background files you’ll need.”

  “And I will have Flame come to your home the day after tomorrow.” She shook Forrest’s hand. “I’m quite sure your daughter will like him.” She smiled. “Perhaps more than you’ll be comfortable with.”

  The CFO was digesting that as she left the office, even as his assistant was telling a friend about the conversation his boss had just concluded with an "NSA Spook." The friend told a friend who passed the info along to a rival banker who whispered it into the ears of a day trader who…

  It was all over Wall Street within hours and, soon thereafter, a text message appeared on a secure cell phone: "Mr. Forrest has suspicions. Prepare to move on his daughter..."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Girl number six had been pushed into the long dormitory sometime during the night. Katelyn could see that she was young—no more than seventeen or eighteen—and very scared. She started toward the other girl, planning to give her a reassuring hug although, God knew, she was just as scared as the youngster was.

  Before she could reach the shivering figure, the Japanese girl—on the bed next to the newcomer—moved, wrapping her arms around the new girl and whispering reassurances into her ear.

  Reassurances that were, apparently, loud enough to be heard outside.

  “You.” The door burst open and two men stepped into the room. “The Jap.” They motioned to the startled girl. “Come here.”

  As every other girl watched, eyes wide with fear, the Japanese girl walked slowly across the room, her eyes downcast.

  “Hurry up!”

  She looked up then—and speeded up, finally stopping in front of the man who had spoken.

  Her eyes once again fell to the floor, seemingly focused on his boots.

  “You…” The man looked around the room. “All of you were warned not to speak,” he said as he turned his attention back to the now-shivering Japanese girl. “You were told you would be punished if you disobeyed.” He reached out, closed his fist around the girl’s long black hair. “Apparently, a demonstration is in order.”

  He yanked hard, pulling her head back. Katelyn could see that she was silently crying; eyes tightly closed.

  “Hey,” the man lightly slapped the Japanese girl’s cheek. “Look at me.” He waited for her eyes to open, waited for them to focus on his face. “You are to keep silent,” he tapped his index finger against her lips. “You are not to say a word to anyone, ever.” Another tap. “Understand?”

  The Japanese girl tried to nod, grimaced as the movement caused her hair to grow tighter still.

  “Remember it this time.” The man nodded and his companion hit the girl in the stomach with a powerful roundhouse punch.

  The Japanese girl doubled over, gasping for breath. She dangled from the first man’s grasp, her body going limp as she tried desperately to breathe. After a few seconds, he released her, letting her fold into a heap on the floor.

  “Remember that, all of you.” He looked around the room. “Don’t make me come in here again.”

  Then he was gone, the door clicking locked behind him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dana arrived at the office early the following morning. Her flight back to DC had been uneventful—the late flight happily lacking the screaming baby and the overstuffed businessman. She’d landed at Reagan, and had a quiet meal near her apartment before spending an equally quiet night at home.

  Eric, it appeared, had slept for the six hours Dana had ordered—and not a minute more. He was running multiple data scans, pulling information both from the JPMorgan Chase internal net and the NSA data dumps as she entered.

  The new software seemed to be working perfectly.

  “Did you get any sleep at all?” Dana put her coat on the back of her office chair and sat down to check out her email.

  “Six hours.” Eric turned his chair enough to grin at her. “Just like you said.”

  “I should have told you eight!”

  “Maybe,” he said, and nodded at the multiple screens of data behind him. “It’ll take a couple of hours to download everything we’ll need to start this audit—even with the bandwidth we have and the NSA programs, it’s just too much to take in fast.”

  “That’s okay.” Dana answered the only email that mattered. “We have an appointment in Fredericksburg—remember?”

  “Do I have to go?” Eric dropped his gaze down. “I mean, there’s so much to do here.”

  “This is important.” Dana shut down her computer and stood up. “Besides, Flame is meeting us there and it’s time the two of you got acquainted.”

  “Are you sure, I mean…”

  “Get your coat.” Dana pulled her own on. “We’ll take my car.”

  ***

  It only took about thirty minutes to make the drive from DC to Fredericksburg. Once off I-95, Dana took her Volvo down a shortcut she’d discovered and pulled into the gravel parking lot of Bremby’s “Museum of Historical Arms.”

  “We’re here,” she told Eric who had spent the trip on his laptop; working on she knew not what.

  “This guy’s got cannons?” He stepped closer to them, tapped on the keyboard of his computer. “Nineteenth century—French, I think.”

  “Dutch.” The voice came from the silently opened doorway just beyond the cannon. “Although it can be hard to tell the difference.” Garland Bremby stepped out, smiling at Dana. “Good to see you, girl!”

  “It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

  Bremby shook his head. “Never take a skill for granted. Constant practice is the only thing that will keep you sharp.” He looked around. “Where’s the redhead?”

  “Flame will be here in a little while. In the meantime…” Dana motioned toward Eric. “This is our new computer expert, Eric Bivens. Eric, this is Garland Bremby.”

  Eric studied the rather slightly built black man who was studying him right back. Cool legs, he thought. Looks like a C-Leg—top of the line, too. He looked at the building behind Bremby. I guess he does pretty well…

  “How do you do,” Eric stepped forward, hand out. “I was just admiring your C-Legs.”

  “They’re new.” Bremby took the hand, looking the other man in the eye, measuring him. “I’m still getting used to them.”

  “Let me know if you have any trouble with the microprocessor,” Eric said, staring at the knee joint. “I can probably sharpen up the performance a little.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Bremby looked at Dana, a question in his eyes.

  “If he says he can do it, he can.” Dana nodded. “He’s a whiz with computer systems.”

  “Really,” Bremby turned toward the open door, gesturing the others to come inside with him. “How is he with mechanical devices?”

  “Not all that good,” Eric answered for himself. “I mean, I can fix minor stuff but if you put me in front of an auto engine or something like that,” he shrugged, “I’m lost.”

  Bremby smiled. “Me too.” He stuck out his hand again. “And I just might take you up on the C-Leg tune-up.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Now that you’ve got that out of the way…” Dana stepped forward. “I’d like to get Eric checked out on a handgun—and I’d like to get a little range time in while he’s doing that.”

  “Not a problem.” Bremby gestured them further into the museum, grinning as Eric stopped to stare at a rifle in a glass case. “Is this a DARPA sniper rifle?”