He nodded. He knew her well enough to know she was not telling him the whole story, but those same instincts worked both ways. He felt certain the threat she described was absolutely real. What was most worrying about it was that if they were indeed able to crack all of their e-mails and telephone calls, well, that only really meant one country was behind this. He had known for many years that America had established a strong CIA presence among them. They had allowed it because fighting it would have meant alienating their greatest ally. Now, he knew, that presence was too intrinsic to be countered. He would monitor this Raz Shellet, but he would do it extremely subtly, as he knew that even the slightest report of his interest in her would alert the foe that Ayala was trying to protect him from.

She watched his mind work and she knew she had him. He had taken the path she had wanted and she had seen the moment that he had made the incorrect but perfectly logical leap to America.

Good. If he suspected the CIA, he would take the necessary care to avoid detection. That was all she needed. She had sown the seed.

* * *

François-Xavier Marchelier walked down the street to his office. He liked to do this on occasion, especially in the first onset of winter. The cold made him feel alive. He knew that Lieutenant Jeanette Archalle was not far behind him, and neither were the two men who followed him around sullenly all day. The brutes were such a burden. But such were the dangers of his position in the French government. At least as he entered the Ministry the two thugs would leave him behind. The big doors swung easily at his push, and he walked up to the security detail at the metal detectors, noting and trying to place the familiar face of the striking woman standing just inside. She seemed to recognize him too. She was about his age and she was coming over. She was smiling and he knew that face and that smile. Those lips, God, was she a lover of his? No, wait, she was …

She approached him, “Monsieur Le Minister, comment ça va? Madame Winstel, Bettina Winstel.” she introduced herself and tilted her head slightly to one side as he automatically went to kiss her cheeks in greeting.