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first met him.”
    She could grasp it. She just could never quite believe it. The memory of that breakable boy struggling to keep his sanity was always with her. She knew with her mind how deadly he could be, but not with her heart. That struggle had made her ache with sympathy, then and it still did now. “Go check on him.”
    “As you like.” His smile disappeared, and his expression became thoughtful as the elevator door closed between them.
    Jane rubbed her temple as the elevator started to move. Okay, there wasn’t anything secret hidden in the painting or frame. But the man who wanted
Guilt
was very much a mystery. Sarnoff was not his name, and computers were not his game. Who the hell was he?
    She got off the elevator and headed for the bedroom. She’d wash up, get dressed, then pack. She supposed she should eat something before this day started. It was promising to be a hell of a rough day once Yvette Denarve showed up on the scene. Or perhaps she wouldn’t bother to eat. It seemed too much effort at the moment and she was—
    There was a note pinned to her bedroom door.
    Jane
,
There’s fresh coffee made in the kitchen, and I washed your enormous cup. I noticed there was orange juice and milk in the refrigerator, and I put a box of cereal on the table
.
Jock
    She could feel the moisture sting her eyes. Stupid to be touched by such a simple thing. When had he slipped by them to come up and get all of this in readiness? No pushing, no nudging, just Jock doing what he thought best for her.
    Hell, it wouldn’t take that long to eat a little, and she could definitely use the coffee. She turned and headed for the kitchen.

FOUR
    Paris
Day Two
    VENABLE CALLED MACDUFF JUST after noon that day. “I need to talk to Jock Gavin.”
    “Then why are you calling me?”
    “Because if I didn’t, you’d accuse me of going around you and trying to victimize the poor boy.”
    “He’s a man, not a boy.”
    “Then let him protect himself,” Venable said sourly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I gave him the option of saying no.”
    “After you set up a scenario that made it impossible for him to refuse.” He added impatiently, “So why do you want to talk to him?” He glanced at Jock, who was sitting in a chair a few feet away. “I’m turning up the volume and putting you on speaker. Don’t say anything to me that you don’t want him to hear. Or do you want me to hang up, Jock?”
    Jock shook his head. “I have no secrets from you.”
    “Not today. Yesterday was a different matter,” MacDuff said dryly. “Talk, Venable.”
    “I want to know about Ted Weismann.”
    “You should know all there is to know about him,” Jock said.“He’s your informant. You paid him to introduce me into Sang Noir.”
    “I know he’s greedy, and his information always panned out. You were around him for over two weeks before you took off for Paris.”
    “That doesn’t mean that I know much about him. I wasn’t concentrating on Weismann while I was there. What’s the problem?”
    “The problem is that the minute you took down Folard, Weismann had to go on the run or end up like Celine Denarve. Millet was there and recognized you, and he made the connection. I knew it would happen. One way or another, I was preparing to lose my informant.”
    “And?”
    “Weismann contacted me and wants to make a deal. No more dribbling bits of information. He’s prepared to spill his guts for a large enough sum that would permit him to find a hiding place that would be luxurious enough to make it worth the risk.”
    “And what’s your question to me?”
    “Just how much does he know? Would I be wasting money?”
    Jock thought about it. “It’s possible. I got the impression he wasn’t as deeply into the group’s confidence as the core eight. But he’s very personable, and Millet did send him out a couple times to scope out possible jobs. A man who regards information as cash and loves money would make it his business