“Ah, yes, Mademoiselle Petrie. I sensed she was trouble. I did not want to have her here, but Vivian is a very old and dear friend. She begged me. You understand this, no?”

Jack said nothing. He waited. Harry transferred his weight from one foot to the other. “I do not want any trouble. I operate a respectable rooming house. Follow me, and I will take you to Mademoiselle Petrie. You will not be returning here again, will you?”

“Absolutely not,” Jack said truthfully. He looked down to see a fat tabby cat rubbing against his ankles.

“That is Fefe. She loves it when we have guests, always hoping for a catnip treat. It is the second door on the left. I will leave you now, so you can conduct your business. We are finished, no?”

“We are finished, yes,” Jack said. He watched as the woman bent down to pick up the fat cat. Both he and Harry waited until she was at the bottom of the steps before they knocked on the door.

Jack looked over at Harry, and whispered, “Show time. Hold up that shield. I’m thinking that should be enough to scare the crap out of her.”

Jack knocked softly on the door but loud enough for the occupant to hear and not disturb the other guests on the floor.

“Yes, who is it?” came a muffled response. Jack and Harry remained silent. He rapped again, this time a tad harder. Petrie repeated her response. Jack knocked a third time and mumbled something. The door opened a crack, Harry pushed it, and the woman on the other side was pushed backward.

A ripe curse split the air. Jack closed the door as Harry clamped his hand over Jane Petrie’s mouth.

Jack leaned in close so he could whisper in Petrie’s ear. “Stop the caterwauling. We are not going to hurt you. Unless . . . listen to me . . . you don’t shut up. If you don’t shut up, we will slice off your ears.” He was rewarded with instant silence. “That’s better. Now listen to me very carefully. We want you to pack your things. Do it quickly. We are taking you back to the States with us.”

“No, no! You can’t make me go back there. I have dual citizenship. My mother was French. You can’t make me go with you.”

Jack whipped out a small, wicked-looking switchblade from his key ring and brandished it in the air. “What part of ‘we are taking you back to the States with us’ didn’t you understand? You caused some very nice people a lot of trouble. You’ll have to answer for that, not to us but to the people you harmed. Now, do what I say and pack your stuff. Or, leave it. The choice is yours.”