He pulled the pillowcase off her head, shoved her onto her back. Olivia stared up at his swarthy face, and its two days of beard scruff. His eyes were covered with opaque sunglasses, his hair dark and curling, a few flecks of silver at the temples, so maybe in his early forties. Even with his heavy coat, she could see he was well built and very strong. He called out, “Turn left here, Claude, keep straight. They will not know where to send the flics.”

He leaned back, grinned down at her. “We were ready to take both of you, but that stupid agent made it easy. He forgot his scarf, right? And the fool left you alone to go get it.” He laughed, looked pleased with himself.

Olivia ran her tongue over her dry lips, swallowed. At least she could breathe again. “Why don’t you tell me your name?”

He grinned at her, nice teeth, but a bit yellow from smoking Gauloises. “You will call me René.”

His real name? If so, it meant he planned to kill her. “How did you find me? How did you know where the safe house was?”

René stroked his pistol over her earlobe, light as a lover’s fingers. Olivia didn’t move. He laughed quietly. “It is good for a woman to be in her place, quiet, obedient. And now you will tell our driver exactly where Mike Kingman is hiding. I know for sure you have the knowledge. You also know what I want. This time do not think to tell me the lie.” He leaned close. “I have won, accept it. The brain, the patience, I have them both. Fortune now shines on my head, that is something you say, oui?”

Olivia nodded, let acceptance and defeat bleed into her voice. “Yes, you have it exactly right.”

He patted her cheek with the muzzle of his gun. “Good girl. Now give Claude directions—oui, that is the name we give him—tell him how to get to Kingman or I shoot your kneecaps, like your old American gangsters. Do you comprehend?”

She drew in a deep breath. “If I take you to him, you’ll kill us.”

He moved the pistol to her breast, leaned close, his hot breath on her cheek. “If I get the flash drive, why waste bullets?”

She slowly nodded. “You must know he hasn’t been able to access that flash drive, it’s encrypted. He can’t even copy it without the key and you can’t either. Only certain people at the CIA have the key.”

“That is not your concern. Tell Claude the directions. Maintenant—now.” He pressed the muzzle hard against her left knee and started humming. It was scarier than anything he’d said.

“Why don’t you call Mike? Negotiate a trade?”

“So he can run again?” He laughed. “Give Claude the directions.”

Olivia looked through the windshield. “Go straight until you see Brewer Avenue, turn left.”