He assessed the danger at the moment and found it minimal. Their lovemaking had proven that. And besides he knew himself to be more than a match for Jana physically. He was an expert in several forms of unarmed combat, after all, and he was confident that it wouldn’t come down to a matter of firearms. Hadn’t he been with her when she’d disposed of her pistol before entering the terminal at Heathrow? Hadn’t he sat beside her on the long flight and accompanied her in the taxi directly to the hotel? And she was naked now . . .

He was wondering what she might shed on the story of the three young South Asians staked to an education and start-up capital, what he thought of as his “anomaly story.” The story of the Scorpion. As a journalist, he honored the maxim “follow the money.” The Scorpion raised money, had money, but it galled Crane that, after all these months, he was still no closer to knowing who exactly the man was. That he was a man of no particular allegiance was a given; such men operated across national borders. Money and the economy were global, so crime was global as well. Perhaps he should be paying less attention to figures of political intrigue, more to those of organized crime. Organized crime had the networks international terrorism needed, the smuggling routes, the purveyors of forged documents, the weapons and money-laundering connections. Money moved with lightning speed and money begat more money, the kind of wealth that could build palaces in the desert, entire cities like Dubai. Whose money was behind such rapid development? Oil money, yes, but he had heard tales of the wealth of powerful Russian oligarchs.

Crane heard the water running in the bathroom.

He thought again of Jana’s body.

And thoughts of the Scorpion slipped from his mind.

Wiki Chang flicked on an overhead light. Carson blinked, fluttering her eyelids until her irises adjusted to the bright fluorescence. The interior of the black van, that’s where she was—a van speeding toward a military airbase—and she was lying on a cot, not unlike the gurney on which she’d escaped from the hospital, except this one was bolted to the wall opposite the computer screens.

“Did I—?”

“You tried to take a nap standing up. I caught you before you fell and carried you here. I’m stronger than I look.” Chang’s face flamed scarlet. “Not that you’re heavy, that’s not what I meant, uh, I hope you don’t mind.”

Really, Carson thought, he was totally adorable.

“No, no, don’t get up,” he insisted when she tried to sit. “You should be lying down. I researched your post-op care, but having your chart really helps. In about twenty minutes, you’ll need your pain meds. I’ve got those ready. Your antibiotics will be—”