She locked the door and set off across the hotel grounds, headed for the pool and the staff entrance to the kitchen. She thought of Milton and wondered how he was. It had been a strange experience to see him again after so long. The past couple of days had dredged up memories that she had buried under the silt of time, and some of them had not been pleasant to recall. The low points of her drinking years had come back to her: the empty hopelessness that she had felt when she woke up with no memory of what had proved to be her final night of booze, the desperation and fear as she had waited outside the church hall in Kensington for her first meeting. Milton had guided her through the first few months. The affair had been inevitable, and, although it had been a mistake, she did not regret it. His change in the time between then and now was startling, and she could see why Sakura had fallen for him. Sakura had been fortunate to find him, just as Victoria had been, and, if anyone was able to extricate her from the situation into which she had fallen, it would be him.

Victoria reached the pool and skirted it, going around to the staff entrance of the kitchen. She reached for the door but paused, thinking that she had heard an exclamation from inside. She held her breath and listened harder and, this time, she was sure: two people speaking, one of them in distress.

Jean-Michel.

She checked behind her, confirmed that she was alone, and reached for the compact Glock 19 that was cinched behind her belt, the metal pressed up tight against the small of her back. She held the gun in her right hand while she slowly reached down for the door handle and, as quietly as she could, tried to turn it.

It was locked.

That made no sense. Why would Jean-Michel lock the door? He usually took half an hour to close down the kitchen, and he hadn’t been gone that long yet.

Something was very wrong.

She heard another exclamation from inside.

Very wrong.

She reached into her pocket and took out her bunch of keys. They opened all of the main doors, including this one, in the event that she needed to get into a room after hours. She slipped the key into the lock and turned it, wincing a little at the click as the pins disengaged. She gripped the pistol and turned the handle, very slowly pushing the door open and sliding inside.

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