Tesla warmed its tip again, holding it to the flame until it glowed red. Then she pressed it against Jana’s cheek.

Jana jerked to the side and screamed.

As Jana slid to the carpet, a cell phone fell from the pocket of her trench coat. Tesla saw the woman’s eyes skitter to it. She snatched it up and tossed it out of reach.

“Who are you working for?” Tesla demanded.

“I never tell you,” Jana whispered in English through gritted teeth. “I never betray him.”

“Betray who? The Scorpion? Your father? He’s dead.”

“Dead,” Jana whispered. “You to be dead soon.” She looked to Charley. “Her too.”

Tesla pressed the letter opener to Jana’s cheek again. She screamed again as the smell of burning flesh filled the room.

“Stop!” Charley Middleton screamed.

Tesla’s eyes spun.

“Stop it! Stop it!”

Charley had wedged herself in a corner, covering her mouth with one hand. The gun dangled from the other.

“Charley,” Tesla said evenly.

But she wasn’t listening. She was sobbing now. Tesla stared at her, debating whether to go to her or make her leave the room. But the bullet wound in her own shoulder was throbbing and even with Jana bound and weakened, she didn’t trust herself to handle things alone right now.

And she had promised Harold she would keep Charley safe. That was the last thing he had asked of her as they parted in London. He told her of his plan to get into Russia and when she insisted on going with him, he had asked her to meet Charley in Paris instead.

Nora, I can’t lose her.

Late that night, as Tesla had lain curled against his sweating chest, the sheets damp with their lovemaking, she had felt a rawness, a sadness, in Harold Middleton she had never felt before. His guilt was palpable over putting his beloved daughter in jeopardy over what he called “this quixotic crusade.” In the dark, she had held him and promised to protect her.

“Poor little Charlotte.”

At the sound of Jana’s voice, Tesla’s eyes swung back to the dark-eyed woman pressed against the wall.

“Shut up!” Tesla hissed.

Jana managed a swollen smirk. In French she said, “The daughter does not have the courage of the father.”

“I said shut up!” Tesla swung and hit Jana hard with the back of her hand. The cut on Jana’s lip ripped open, spraying blood on the wall.

“Stop it!” Charley cried. “No more, Nora, please!”

Tesla stared at her. What was this? Where was this coming from? For the last fifteen minutes, as Tesla had interrogated Jana, Charley had been quiet. Even as Jana’s moans of pain had grown deeper, Charley had not moved, not made a sound. Now, suddenly, she was coming apart.

“No more, Nora,” she whispered. “Please. Please. I can’t take this. I can’t do this anymore.”