Neil didn't recognize the man, but he didn't need to ask. The black three tattooed on his left cheekbone meant he could be no one but Jean Moreau. He was the Ravens' starting backliner and supposedly an old friend of Kevin's. There was nothing friendly on his face tonight.

"You look familiar," Jean said in heavily accented English.

"If you watched Kathy's show you saw me there," Neil said.

"Ah, you are right. That must be it. What was your name again? Alex? Stefan? Chris?"

For a moment Neil thought he'd fallen over. He felt the world lurch out from under him and take his stomach with it. A second or minute or eternity later he realized he hadn't moved at all. He wasn't even breathing.

In eight years on the run Neil had been through sixteen countries and twenty-two names. Hearing one name from Jean wouldn't mean anything. Hearing three wasn't a coincidence. It was a threat. Andrew had warned Neil Riko would unearth his trail no matter how well he and his mother buried it. Neil feared that eventuality, but he hadn't wanted to believe it. It sometimes took his father years to catch up with them. It was impossible to think Riko succeeded in just two weeks.

Coaxing air back into his lungs was the hardest thing Neil had ever done. It was a miracle his breath sounded so steady when his throat was closing up.

"It's Neil."

"Hmm?" Jean titled his head to one side as if that would help him see Neil better. "You don't look much like a Neil."

"Blame my mother," Neil said. "She named me."

"How is she doing, by the way?" Riko asked.

Neil looked into Riko's dark eyes and felt like he was dying. He might have answered, but Dan beat him to it with an annoyed, "Don't antagonize my team, Riko. This isn't the place for it."

"I was being polite," Riko said. "You haven't seen me antagonistic yet."

Jean looked at Kevin. "Hello, Kevin."

"Jean," Kevin said quietly.

Jean's smile was lazy, but the look in his gray eyes was ashen ice. Neither of them had anything else to say to each other, but they stared each other down unblinking. Andrew lost interest before long and leaned forward.

"Jean," he said. "Hey, Jean. Jean Valjean. Hey. Hey. Hello."

Jean huffed a little in annoyance but looked at Andrew. Andrew held out his hand and Jean was foolish enough to take it. Andrew's knuckles went white as he crushed Jean's hand. Jean couldn't hide all of a flinch, and the smooth look on his face gave way to an irritated scowl. Andrew only smiled wider at the sight of it.

"I'm Andrew. We haven't met yet."