He leaned back and sipped his coffee and thought of Nadia’s coffee. Undoubtedly she’d drunk from her NADJ mug by now and was presently wandering about somewhere, firmly in the grip of Loki madness.

Luc sighed with relief and a touch of regret as he wondered where she was and what she was doing. He confessed to a certain professional curiosity as to what behaviors the Loki would bring out in a sweet, even-tempered person like Nadia. He remembered reading about a meek mousy little housewife who, after taking a heavy dose from a well-meaning friend, cut her abusive husband to ribbons. Nothing so gory from Nadia, he hoped. Just enough to get her arrested and charged… and her credibility ruined.

He rose and returned to the living room. He surveyed the crates of wine neatly stacked and ready for shipment. He’d personally packed every one of them. Only four more to go.

He glanced at the television and saw that Headline News was replaying the Dragovic videotape. Luc had already seen it three times but he sat down now, eager for a fourth viewing. He could not help grinning at the close-up of Dragovic firing wildly at the Coast Guard helicopter. Oh, this was delicious, utterly delicious.

He tried to imagine how small, how utterly humiliated Dragovic must feel right now and could not. He wondered who was behind this marvelous prank. Whoever he was, Luc could kiss him.

Much as he would dearly love to search the channels for more replays, he had to keep moving. The calendar on this, his last day in America, was pretty well filled. He had to finish packing the very last of his wine before the shippers arrived at three. Once the cases were safely on their way to France, he would have an early dinner, his last in New York, and then head out to the airport. A tingle of anticipation ran up the center of his chest. He was booked first class on the ten o’clock to Charles de Gaulle. A mere eleven hours and—

The phone rang. Luc checked the caller ID. If it was anyone from GEM, especially his partners, they could talk to his voice mail. His heart dropped a beat when he saw “N. Radzminsky” on the readout. He snatched up the receiver.

“Hello?” His suddenly dry mouth made his voice sound strange.

“Dr. Monnet, this is Nadia. I tried your office but—”

“Yes, Nadia. How are you?”

The question was not conversational routine—he truly wanted to know.

“I’m terrible,” she said, her voice edging toward a sob. “I just got back from Brooklyn after spending an hour in the Eighty-fourth Precinct talking to the police. They’ve got no leads on Doug.”

She sounded upset, her voice quavering, but she was undeniably rational. How could mat be? The Loki…

“I’m so sorry, Nadia. Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes,” she said, a hint of steel creeping into her voice. “I just got off the subway and I’m two blocks from you. I’ve got a few things I want to talk to you about.”