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answered Gunner’s question. “More. She’s much more, Gunner.”
    “That’s good.” Gunner’s voice was gentle.“I’m happy for you. When will you be arriving here?”
    “By tomorrow night, I hope. Bardot’s showing signs of impatience. I think he’ll approach her directly and try to use the element of surprise to get the information from her. If the bastard acts with his usual charm and tact, hell probably scare her into jumping in our direction.”
    “What if you’re wrong? What if he brings help and forces her to go with him to the farm?”
    “I don’t think we have to worry. Bardot’s superiors are already doubting his credibility. Hell want proof if he can get it.” His voice roughened. “And if I’m wrong, you can forget all that bilge they gave us about nonviolence and a low profile. I won’t let Bardot take her.”
    “They put you in charge. No one is going to say anything if you find it necessary to change tactics.”
    “They’d better not. I’ve run out of patience too. The cost has been too high already.” Jon’s gaze returned to the cottage. “I’ll let you know if we have to switch gears.”
    “Do that. I can’t say I’ve liked this waiting game we’ve been playing any more than you have. I could use a little action.”
    “You speak as if action’s an unusual state,” Jon said dryly. “I’ve never known a time whenyou haven’t preferred trouble to the serene life.”
    “It’s a quality you’ve always found useful in the past,” Gunner drawled. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who saved my neck when those guards in Said Ababa decided to separate it from my magnificent body.” He paused. “Be careful, Jon. If you have to go on the offensive, make it clean.”
    Jon didn’t need Gunner to warn him of the consequences of leaving loose ends on this project. “I’m neither a novice nor a fool, Gunner. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hung up the receiver and started the motor and then backed out of the driveway.
    He drove only a short distance down the road before turning off into the woods and positioning the truck to get a clear view of the cottage. He switched off the ignition and the lights, and leaned back in the seat. It was going to be a cold night, much colder than the previous ones he’d spent sitting there guarding Elizabeth and her unborn child. He turned up the collar of his coat and concentrated for a moment, blocking the cold from his consciousness. Even in the protection of the cab he could see his breath mist before him.
    He had to think, to plan his next move in case he was wrong about the way Bardot wasgoing to react. He was grateful to have some thing to think about during the long night ahead. It would distract him from remembering the image of Elizabeth touched by firelight. God knows, he’d need that distraction.

“M RS. R AMSEY, MY NAME IS K ARL B ARDOT , I’ M with the National Intelligence Bureau. I have to speak with you.” The large man standing on the steps was staring at her with belligerence, as he flicked open his wallet to show his I.D. “May I come in?”
    Bardot. A tiny tingle of fear ran through her. She had been telling herself Jon Sandell was mistaken, that she would never be confronted by Bardot. But just because he was now here there was no reason to assume he was a threat to her, she assured herself quickly.
    She stepped aside. “Come in, please, Mr. Bardot.” She turned and preceded him across the hall and through the arched opening to thesitting room. “I’ve just made some coffee. Would you like a cup?”
    He shook his head. “This isn’t a social call. I have a few questions to ask you.” He was gazing at her with cold dislike. “How you answer my questions will determine whether it’s necessary to take you into custody.”
    “Arrest me?” He couldn’t be serious. “That’s absurd. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
    “Not yet maybe, but I said I could take you into custody, not arrest you.