Burned (Vanessa Pierson series Book 2) by Valerie Plame, Sarah Lovett Read Free Book Online Page B

twenty minutes of doing nothing but standing and watching, he answered his phone when it vibrated in his pocket. He spoke briefly, without animation, before he disconnected, pocketing it. In his other pocket, he closed his fingers around a cheap disposable cell, as yet unused.
    Medium build, average height, the temples of his dark hair sprinkled with gray—the most striking thing about him was his ordinariness.
    The people around him watched the action, the movement, the coming and going of investigators. He watched the slender blond American woman.
    While she spoke with the French official, the man kept one eye ona lone adolescent boy who was snapping a seemingly endless collection of photos of the site and texting countless messages—undoubtedly to his Facebook page. The boy would do for his purpose.
    When the French official dismissed the American, the man in the raincoat moved toward the teen.

13
     
    Walking quickly, Vanessa covered the last dozen meters to the cordoned outer perimeter of the site. Dozens of spectators still huddled behind the barriers at the Place du Carrousel. A uniformed security officer opened one of the barriers to let her pass. For a moment, she stared down the Champs-Élysées to the Arc de Triomphe—commissioned by Napoléon in 1806 as a monument to his military victories but not completed until fifteen years after his death.
    A quote from Graham Greene’s
The Quiet American
came to mind: “I never knew a man who had better motives for all the trouble he caused.” She owned all of Greene’s works, given to her by her longtime Agency friend and mentor Charles Janek. The books even merited their very own shelf in her apartment in Nicosia on Cyprus. She loved the author’s exploration of the ambivalent morals of life; his view captured her experiences so far in the CIA.
    She thrust her hands in her pockets, suddenly realizing she’d left her wallet behind at the safe house when Fournier rushed her out. It mattered little; the only vehicles on the street belonged to officials.No cabs or buses were running, at least not in this part of the city. She would have to walk back to the safe house, but, honestly, after all that had happened, she welcomed the opportunity to be alone and clear her head despite the weather.
    She turned in the direction of the Seine but faltered when a teenage boy almost bumped into her before he tried to thrust something into her hand.
    She pushed it away, but he pushed it back at her, stuttering,
“L’homme l’a d-d-d-dit—”
    “Quel homme?”
She stared at the phone in his outstretched hand.
“Où est-il maintenant?”
    What man? Where is he now?
    The teenager offered a slouchy shrug. “
Il a dit que vous le sauriez.”
    He said you would know.
    And then, as the boy turned away, he tossed the phone in the air.
    She caught it on reflex before it hit the ground.
    It rang—scaring the hell out of her, vibrating in her palm.
    But she still raised it to her ear.
    “Hello, Vanessa.”
    A shock immediately ran through her body. She’d never heard his voice before, but she knew this had to be Bhoot, CPD’s target—Vanessa’s obsession. The man had authorized no less than a half-dozen assassinations of his enemies. Her anger flared, barely in check, but she forced herself to regain calm. She wanted—
needed
—information.
    In the momentary silence, she heard the susurrus of his breath.
    “Remembering why you detest me?” he asked.
    His voice sounded weak, as if he were using a marginal computer connection. She placed his accent as British, but his deep, whispery voice was laced with the underlying tones of another language impossible to place.
    “Yes.”
    “I admire your honesty, Vanessa.”
    She shifted on her feet, abruptly cold. With his phone held between her chin and shoulder, her hands slid frantically into her pockets—where was her phone? She had to record him. She couldn’t let this moment slip away. She’d never forgive herself if she did.
    He