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dead?”
    â€œNo,” Annja replied.
    â€œWell, I suppose you might consider the possibility that they’re still indisposed is worth the risk. I, however, don’t.”
    â€œYour attitude leaves a lot to be desired.” Annja settled back in the seat, loosening the belt.
    The old man shook his head and laughed. “You’re hardly the grateful sort yourself.” He shoved out his hand.
    She took it, surprised at the strength she felt in his grip. Then it felt as if she’d grabbed hold of a branding iron.
    The old man took his hand back and the strange sensation ended.
    â€œAre you all right?” Concern touched his blue eyes beneath the thick white eyebrows.
    â€œYes,” Annja replied, annoyed that he would think she wasn’t.
    â€œGood.” He paused and looked back at the road. “My name is Roux,” he said, as if it would explain everything.
    Â 
    T WO HOURS LATER , Annja sat waiting quietly in the Lozère police station. She was pointedly ignored.
    â€œI think you’ve disrupted their day,” Roux said. “Now there will be paperwork generated, reports to file.”
    â€œThis is ridiculous,” Annja said.
    â€œYou’re an American.” Roux sat in a chair against the wall. He held a deck of cards and shuffled them one-handed. “They aren’t particularly fond of Americans. Especially ones that claim to have been shot at.”
    â€œThere are bullet holes in your vehicle.”
    Roux frowned and paused midshuffle. “Yes. That is regrettable. I don’t get overly attached to vehicles, but I did like that one.”
    Annja shifted in the hard chair she’d been shown to. “Don’t you want to know who was shooting at us?”
    The old man grinned. “In my life, I’ve found that if someone truly wishes to harm you and you survive the attempt, you usually get a chance to get to know them again.” He paused and looked at her. “You truly don’t know who tried to kill you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œPity.”
    â€œBack at the cave, one of the men mentioned someone named Lesauvage,” Annja said.
    Roux took a moment to reflect. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know anyone named Lesauvage.”
    Working quickly, he shuffled, cut the deck and dealt out four hands on the chair between them. When he turned the cards over, she saw that he’d dealt out four royal flushes.
    â€œAre you certain you won’t play?” he asked.
    â€œAfter seeing that?” Annja nodded. “I’m certain.”
    Smiling a little, like a small boy who has performed a good trick, Roux said, “Not even if I promise not to cheat?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou can trust me.”
    Annja looked at him.
    â€œI believe in the game,” Roux said. “Cheating…cheapens the sport.”
    â€œSure.”
    Roux shrugged. “Let’s play a couple hands. I’ll put up a thousand dollars against the trinket you found in that cave.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWe could be here for hours.” Roux shuffled the cards hopefully.
    â€œMademoiselle Creed.”
    Glancing up, Annja saw a handsome man in a black three-piece suit standing in front of her. His dark hair was combed carefully back and he had a boyish smile.
    â€œI’m Annja Creed,” she said.
    The man looked around. No one else sat in the waiting room.
    â€œI’d rather gathered that you were.” He held out his hand. “I am Inspector Richelieu.”
    â€œLike the cardinal,” Annja said, taking his hand and standing.
    â€œIn name only,” the inspector said.
    Since Cardinal Richelieu had been responsible for thousands of people being beheaded on the guillotine, Annja realized her faux pas.
    â€œSorry,” she said. “I haven’t met anyone with that name before. I meant no insult.”
    â€œI assure you, mademoiselle, no insult was taken.” Richelieu pointed to the