“You indicated that bad things would follow. You were right. Bad for you. Good for me.” René leaned in even more, his mouth close enough to the door that his breath clouded the Lexan. “I know who you are.”

A sudden cold seemed to fill the transparent box.

“Who am I?” Evan asked.

“Orphan X. The Nowhere Man.”

“You have me confused with someone else.”

“I was given all the buzzwords. A ‘richly funded covert-action program.’ ‘Neutralized tier-one targets.’ ‘CONUS and OCONUS operations.’” René’s forehead wrinkled or at least did its approximation of wrinkling. “The last two sound like sexual acts. They mean what, precisely?”

“Google ’em.”

René smiled. “I know we had a deal, but you’ve hardly shown consideration for our agreement. Killing my men, destroying my equipment. Why should I honor what you won’t? Given what you did to my lab, I need even more funds to rebuild, to acquire new medical machinery, buy another doctor. All this time I’ve been focused on what you have. Little did I realize that who you are is more valuable.”

Evan asked, “Who told you this about me?”

“I have my sources.”

“These sources,” Evan said. “They found you.”

René wet his lips. “I put out inquiries. Answers came back.”

“How did those answers come back?” Evan pressed.

“Through an e-mail associated with the bank account in which your money landed.”

“Your highly private account at the end of your highly encrypted trail of wire transfers?” Evan said. “Wonder how they got that information?”

“No,” René said. “I wonder how much they’ll be willing to spend for you. I’m guessing it’ll be a lot more than twenty-seven million.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Evan said. “Do you know who you’re dealing with?”

“Not the initial party. But some of the others.”

Evan felt another plunge in the temperature of the Lexan vault. “Others?”

“It seems you’re a wanted commodity in many quarters. Once I received word of your … secret identity, I explored the market. My subsequent correspondents were willing to communicate through more traditional untraditional means. I managed to scare up a few more bidders.” René lifted a finger and tapped the glass in front of Evan’s face. “We’re having an auction.”

“You might not want to stick your arm into that beehive.”

“But, Evan,” René said, already turning to leave, “that’s where all the honey is.”

47. Collision Avoidance

47

Collision Avoidance

Evan stuck his head and torso into the fireplace like an auto mechanic, examining the new bolts studding the flue damper. It didn’t give even a millimeter when he pounded it with the heels of his hand.

The Ninth Commandment dictated: Always play offense. But he was running out of moves fast.