Grant sat back in his chair studying the end of his cigar. Things had not evolved as planned, and now he was unsure of his own exposure. The meeting, he was certain, arranged for his benefit, was supposed to have confirmed that the briefcase wasn't opened safely, but he didn't believe that. If he was right, that means he effectively ended Mallory West's professional life.

He went through the reports Percy had seen fit to impart again, along with his own encrypted email sources of information. Abraham, did you betray me? Did you find out what Ms West had done and change allegiances? It seems a number of people discovered things they shouldn't have. He tossed the photos of the courier, Luka Stepanov, and the remains of Ivan in his burned dacha, aside. The cigar went out, and he tipped the glass of scotch to his lips, swallowing with an apprehensive sigh.

Ava, he thought, seemed to have escaped suspicion from Felix, in which case she would still be a threat. West was also a problem now. If she did learn about the contents, and she hadn't told Percy, that meant she had an agenda of her own - and maybe an ally in Abraham.

He gathered all the material and placed it in his own briefcase, checked his watch, and called down from his hotel room for a cab to take him to the airport.

♟♟♟♟♟

"I guess this is where we split up." Morrisey glanced at Mallory, folding her clothes and packing them in the small suitcase. He stuffed his few items into a small bag and leaned against the window watching her.

"Can't use hotel rooms forever now that the Percy's Red Closet has finished." She tried for a light tone.

"So where do you go now?"

"I have a flat in town . . ." She caught his eye and looked quickly away. "What about you, back to Canada?"

"I guess I have to wait for Percy's official release. Meantime, a cheaper place than this."

"You still have a room at the Kirkland; we both do."

"That's right. I guess SIS is still picking up the tab for that." He straightened up and nodded. "Good. That's one problem solved."

She hefted her bag off the bed and wheeled it to the door. "Shall we finish this," she held up the bottle from the dresser, "a toast to a very strange adventure?"

"It isn't over yet, Mal." He walked over and picked up a glass, holding it out to her. They clinked glasses and drank. Mallory broke the awkward silence asking about his return home.

"What do you think will happen with Grant?"

"Not sure. I know he's suspicious as hell. That jab at the meeting tells me he isn't convinced the contents were lost." He set his glass down and picked up his bag. "What about you? You going to tell Ava?"

She copied his moves and went to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. "It's her child that worries me. Do you think Grant would . . .?"

"Let's get out of here. We can discuss this later."

♟♟♟♟♟

Percy put down his phone and made a notation in his Red Closet file. "It would appear you are not yet closed," he said, sipping his fresh tea. The call had been a report on Grant Duggan's activities. Yes, he had gone to the airport, but had not boarded a plane for America. Instead he had booked a flight to France. Just what are you up to Director? Percy read through the file again, a faint tug disturbed him uncomfortably. Was he going to warn his asset - or eliminate her?

He quickly placed a call.

"It's Percy." She answered and sat listening, steering the Vauxhall on automatic. After a moment, she asked if they could get a watcher at the airport in France.

"What's going on?" Morrisey saw the set of her jaw after the call ended. "What's that about France?"

"Grant just flew there." Her look contained a measure of fear and anger, and her foot slammed down on the accelerator.

"Mallory," he spoke cautiously, watching the road flash past, "just what are you planning?"

"He only went to France for one reason. He's desperate now, and he's after Ava."

"And what, you're going to chase him down? Mallory, Christ, he's already gone. He's got hours on you."

"Not really. Percy said he flew to Paris. That's a long way from where I met Ava. I can be there in roughly five hours at the outside."

"Five hours!"

"Grant left at five. He'll be in Paris around seven. It's about an hour from London to Gatwick. Percy has a flight booked from Gatwick to Rennes. A car will be ready there, and the drive to Port-Saint-Père, where Felix has his villa, is a little over an hour."

Morrisey sat back. He tried to reason just what was happening. "Did Percy authorize this?" Was he giving her the okay to stop Grant - however? It was crazy. The car swerved around a family van, and he banged hard against the door. From the look on her face, Mallory didn't care if she had authorization or not, and she was dragging him with her.

"Mallory, this is crazy. You need to think this through. Grant is my boss."

Her eyes left the road and burned at him. "I hope you aren't thinking of stopping me."

"I want you to think about- look out!" He threw his hands up in front of his face and ducked, as she looked back at the road, swerving hard onto the berm. The car skidded as the wheels churned up the soft earth, lurching again when Mallory tugged at the wheel, wrestling the car back onto the macadam.

"Jesus, I won't have to think about stopping you if you keep driving like that."

"But you were, right?" She sped past another vehicle, and he just closed his eyes. "I'm going, Morrisey, so you have another decision to make." She twisted the wheel and almost tilted onto the exit to the airport.

"Yeah, whether to jump out now before you kill us both first."

"We all get the same driving courses; you're just used to those cushy American cars." A grim smile appeared, and he saw the entrance to airport parking sign whiz past. Moments later they rocked to halt inside the parking garage and the Vauxhall coughed lightly as the engine died.

"Decision time, Morrisey."

He got out and leaned on the car while his legs solidified once more. She was striding toward the exit, heels clacking on the concrete floor.

"Hold on!" He tottered after her, grateful that she had stopped, waiting.

"Well? Make it fast, there are two seats waiting. And we'll be about two hours behind him."

"Two seat- you just figured I would say yes?"

"Hoped, Morrisey, but I can use two myself." She started toward the terminal again.

"What about documents? I can't just bob around the continent at will."

"They come with the seats." She went through the door, leaving him gawking.

"You sly . . ." He had to smile as he pushed through the door after her. Face it Abraham, she had your number the minute you opened that briefcase.