Wired Strong

by Toby Neal

  “Absolutely, sir,” Marcella said. “What can I do to help?”

  Chapter Ten

  Sophie

  Bennie Fernandez looked much the same as he had the first time Sophie had met him during one of her FBI cases years ago. The short, round defense lawyer’s apple cheeks, snowy beard, and bright eyes never seemed to age.

  Sophie had already drawn the blackout drapes and wanded her office for surveillance devices that morning. As an additional precaution, she had set up two fans on tall stands that created white noise across the corner seating area where Raveaux had joined them for the meeting to talk about his representation.

  Sophie snuck a glance at Raveaux out of the corner of her eye. He looked haggard; dark circles surrounded his intelligent brown eyes, and the silver streak at his temples seemed a little wider today. This must be one of those times when he wasn’t eating or sleeping well. She could certainly empathize with that, since her shoulders still ached from running through Honolulu at night carrying a heavy backpack.

  Sophie prepped the tea things as Fernandez engaged Raveaux. “Sophie is already my client, and she asked for this meeting to see if it’s appropriate for me to take your case as well. We have to make sure that there are no conflicts of interest that would interfere with supporting you.”

  “I am fine with other representation, if you need to make a referral,” Raveaux said. He straightened his trousers, and cocked one ankle over his knee.

  “I want Raveaux to have the best, Bennie. And you’re the best.” Sophie brought the tray with the tea things and set it on the coffee table. She seated herself in the armchair that faced the loveseat and couch in the corner of her office. “I owe Pierre all the help I can give him for his current situation, since it is, at least in part, due to me.”

  Fernandez’s tufty white brows arched comically. “What exactly is the situation? If I could get a recap for the record.” His appearance was one of his greatest weapons; that cherubic face hid one of the keenest legal minds Sophie had ever encountered. “Be candid with me, please. Attorney-client privilege covers all matters disclosed in this meeting.”

  Sophie met Raveaux’s eyes for the first time. “Should you tell him, or should I?”

  Raveaux looked away and fiddled with his cuff. “Why don’t you explain the situation, Sophie.”

  Sophie turned to face Fernandez. “As you already know, a multi-agency law enforcement task force is trying to leverage me to cooperate with capturing the international fugitive known as the Ghost. Remember when I first engaged your services a few months ago? I was responding to a warning that Raveaux gave me. He had been approached and threatened with deportation and worse, by agents from the CIA and FBI.” Sophie gestured to the drapes and the fans. “We had to take all of the security steps that you currently see here, in order for him to advise me of an incipient raid on my private island to capture my friend Connor. Monsieur Raveaux had also been tagged with a personal surveillance device, without his consent. And unless I’m wrong, he’s been under continual scrutiny ever since, threatened with deportation and even being taken overseas for interrogation.”

  Fernandez made a note on a tablet. “Hmm. What is your status here in the United States?”

  “I am a French citizen here on a work visa.” Raveaux rubbed at a scuff on the immaculate leather loafer resting upon his knee. “Since the original incident, I have also cooperated with two additional interrogations at the FBI headquarters, where I was not-so-subtly threatened with torture and deportation. As far as I can tell, though, my warning to Sophie was not detected. If it had been, I have no doubt I would no longer be here.” Raveaux addressed Fernandez directly. “I encountered the man they want to capture one time, when he hijacked a helicopter and directed it to rescue Jake and Sophie. I told them everything I knew about that situation, including that I thought he had paranormal abilities. I hope they’ve lost interest in me now.”

  “Paranormal abilities?” Sophie’s eyes widened. “You never told me that.” She’d seen Connor’s incredible physical feats before, but nothing that could be called paranormal.

  “Yes, I’m interested in hearing this, too,” Fernandez said.

  “I think it was my description of that which has made me of less interest.” Raveaux wove his fingers together and rested them on his flat belly. “They think I was suffering some kind of post-traumatic delusion. Nonetheless, I know what I saw and heard.”

  Sophie narrowed her eyes in irritation. “Son of a flatulent yak. Quit stalling, Raveaux.”

  Raveaux narrowed his eyes right back at her. “I didn’t understand that phrase, but I don’t believe it was polite.”

  Fernandez harrumphed. “My time is costing Ms. Smithson a good deal, Monsieur Raveaux. Please proceed.”

  “Well, first of all, the man known as Connor found them by tracking a GPS chip he had embedded on Sophie, which I gather you are still wearing?” Raveaux raised his brows at her.

  “Yes.” Sophie flushed—she needed to figure out what to do about that chip! Maybe Fernandez would have guidance for her. “Please, put us out of our agony and tell your tale.”

  “We located the general area where you and Jake were trapped in the cave. But then, instead of helping Connor’s man Nine and me dig open the cavern’s shaft to make it larger so we could get you out, Connor sat down and meditated. Closed his eyes, lotus position, all of that. I was angry with him at the time.” Raveaux pushed a hand into his short dark hair, disordering it in his agitation. “Then, Connor said that he could see where you were. He perceived your energy fields underground. And then . . .” Raveaux seemed to falter. “I don’t know how to explain this. He seemed to appear and disappear, when we were digging, and I had a sense that—he’d done something.”

  Sophie frowned. “That’s vague.”

  “Yes, because I can’t explain it. For me it was like this: I was digging, and he was there, meditating. And then he was at my side with a rope, and the hole was wide enough for a person to enter.” Raveaux shrugged. “Maybe I was just so caught up in the urgency of the moment. We knew you both were unconscious because of the way he described your energy fields, and that you didn’t respond to our hails.”

  Sophie picked up her teacup, holding it in both hands, but tea splashed anyway because she was trembling so badly. She saw those terrible moments from another angle: herself, passed out but breathing on the ledge above Jake. He’d lain below her, inhaling toxic gases.

  Dying.

  “Sophie.” Fernandez’s voice was soft, calling her back.

  She set down her cup and reached for the tea towel. She dabbed the spill. “I’m sorry. It’s still emotional to revisit that time. Please go on, Pierre.”

  Raveaux nodded. “An awful experience for all, especially Jake. But those were the two moments when I believe that Connor did something—unexplainable.”

  “I’ve seen him do extraordinary feats physically,” Sophie said. “But nothing I would call paranormal.”

  Fernandez sharpened his gaze upon her. “Now, young lady. Since we’re laying this all out here in the open, you’ve maintained to me that you were aware that Connor had two other identities, both legally deceased, and that he was wanted in connection with rumored activities as a cyber vigilante known as the Ghost. Do you continue to deny knowing anything about that?”

  “I know Connor as a former lover, and current friend. Also, as the founder of Security Solutions. Yes, he willed the company over to me, along with his private island, when he chose to join that Thai espionage organization. But I know nothing about this “Ghost” aspect.” Sophie made air quotes with her fingers.

  “Good.” Fernandez’s response was definite. “Keep it that way.”

  The lawyer then turned to Raveaux. “There’s not much I can do for you, sir, except to insist that law enforcement have cause to detain you if they try to do so. I would have no control over any deportation proceedings, though I can contact a friend of mine who specializes in immigration law. And as
to this “Ghost” element of the investigation—do you have any knowledge of that?”

  Raveaux stood up and paced. He moved like a shark through water, almost lazily graceful, but he was back in front of the desk again in seconds when he turned to face Sophie. “I do have something to share, and I must say it. But I regret, very much, Sophie, that it may cause you pain.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Raveaux

  Raveaux faced Sophie, sitting in the sleek armchair with the ruddy-faced little lawyer across from her on the couch. He slid his hands into his pockets and played nervously with Gita’s little gold Ganesh amulet, a token he’d given her long ago.

  Sophie sat stiffly. “What could you possibly have to say that would hurt me?”

  “I didn’t tell you something that I should have. I thought you had enough to bear,” Raveaux said.

  Sophie seemed to have turned to golden-brown stone, but her eyes were wide and fierce. He was seared by her gaze from across the room. “You have no idea what I can take, what I have borne, and what I’ll continue to deal with. It’s not your place to make any decisions for me or about me. How dare you withhold information that I should have had!”

  Raveaux winced under the lash of her words. He broke eye contact and paced, trying to find a place to begin his narrative.

  “Now, Ms. Smithson,” Fernandez moderated. “I’m sure Monsieur Raveaux was only trying to help. Grief makes every emotion more intense, and there’s a good chance that this information would not have made a big difference—or he would have shared it with you by now. Correct, Monsieur?”

  “I don’t know what difference it would have made, but you’re right. I should have disclosed this sooner.” Raveaux turned and addressed Sophie. “Remember when I told you that I was visited by two agents who threatened me, and that was the start of my involvement in this investigation?”

  Sophie gave a short nod. Her eyes were still hot, her lush mouth a folded line.

  “That wasn’t the whole truth. Remember when we met on the sidewalk outside of the hospital when you were discharged after being treated for smoke inhalation suffered during your ordeal on the Big Island? My involvement with the case began then, with your father.”

  Her glare was unwavering.

  “The ambassador slipped a stick drive into my hand when he shook it that day.”

  The color drained from Sophie’s face. She leaned forward and turned her teacup around and around.

  “The storage device the ambassador gave me contained extensive information about the case against Connor,” Raveaux went on. “Everything that the FBI has on him, secret interior documents from Security Solutions, even details about the retrieval of six bodies from the Thai jungle by the CIA.”

  “No,” Sophie whispered. “My father doesn’t know any of that. I made sure of it.”

  Raveaux forged on. “The documents show that you were somehow involved with the conspiracy around Connor. Your role is implicit in the contents of the file: the documentation you provided, declaring the man calling himself Sheldon Hamilton legally dead, a man the FBI believes was also known as Todd Remarkian, supposedly killed in an explosion. It’s documented there that you once had a romantic relationship with Remarkian. That man, calling himself Connor, is now residing at an armed compound in Thailand run by the clandestine organization, the Yām Khûmkạn. There’s no way you couldn’t have known all this.” Raveaux paced. “What wasn’t in the file was any clear connection between the man I met who rescued you and the vigilante known as the Ghost. They have no proof of that. They do seem to know that Connor was once known as both Sheldon Hamilton and Todd Remarkian—and they think you assisted in the coverup around his identities.”

  “You aren’t worried about the evidence they’re gathering against you?” Fernandez asked Sophie. “They could charge you with conspiracy to defraud, at least.”

  “The worst they can do, by proving I helped cover up for Remarkian, would be to strip the company and his possessions from me.” Sophie shrugged. “But it would be a battle I think I’d win.”

  “It’s significant,” Fernandez warned.

  But Sophie was upset about something else. “I can’t believe Dad knows everything.” She let loose a sharp stream of invectives in Thai. “I can’t believe he’d lie to me. Pretend like this.”

  “That’s not all on the subject of your father, unfortunately.” Raveaux walked over and sat down on the end of the couch furthest from Sophie. He met her gaze squarely. “The ambassador asked to meet. During that meeting, he made it clear he . . . wanted Connor captured. He was providing intel to the task force, and cooperating with them voluntarily.” Raveaux leaned forward, his fingers laced between his knees. “I want you to know everything. It might hurt now, but will save you pain later.” Raveaux swallowed apprehensively. “Your father made it clear to me that—he didn’t approve of your choices in men.”

  Sophie snorted. “Screw him. He’s hardly in a position to pass judgment on me, after marrying Pim Wat.” She stood up abruptly. She wore a swirl of red skirt like a matador’s cape with a narrow top that showcased her superb upper body, and no jewelry but that flash of Jake’s diamond on her hand. “I knew Dad didn’t mean it when he said he supported me in this pregnancy. I knew he was hiding something!”

  Raveaux froze, and absorbed this as best he could without giving away shock. Many years as an investigator helped him keep his facial expression neutral, his voice even. “You’re—pregnant?”

  “Yes, Pierre, I am. And it’s none of your damn business.” Sophie spun around, that skirt flaring.

  Fernandez leaned forward and harrumphed. “Sophie, this is big news to anyone working with you. I would have wanted to know that, myself.”

  Sophie glared at Fernandez. “How is it any of your business, either? The fact that my uterus is now occupied has nothing to do with my legal defense. I’m sick and tired of these patriarchal responses. And don’t you dare tell me I’m being overly emotional. I went to my father for protection, only to find out he’s helping the enemy.” Her hands gripped her hips. She was magnificent. “I’m going to the restroom. And when I get back, you two better have some useful suggestions for me.”

  The carpet was too thick for her stride to make much sound, but Raveaux felt her power as she swept out of the room. The heavy door shut soundlessly behind her.

  Raveaux stared at that door. She was pregnant, with Jake’s baby. A tiny bloom of happiness for her warmed him, somewhere beneath his sternum. That child would be such a comfort to her. “What a beautiful thing to come from sorrow,” he said.

  “Yes. And Sophie is right; her pregnancy is none of our concern.” Fernandez retrieved a briefcase from beside his seat. He set it on the coffee table and popped the latches to remove some papers. “I’m afraid, in light of all this information, I’m going to have to refer you, Monsieur Raveaux. I have a colleague who deals with international and immigration law. She’s a lovely woman to work with; I think you’ll be an excellent fit, and I’ll give her a call today to ensure that she makes room in her schedule to take you on.” He handed Raveaux a card. “Now, what other suggestions are we going to have for Sophie when she returns?”

  Raveaux accepted the card. His mind was whirring. “Thank you. The referral will be fine. And in the meantime, I do have some ideas for her.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sophie

  Sophie stomped past Paula at her desk and went on to the main women’s bathroom in the hall. Once inside, she flipped the deadbolt to lock it—she wanted complete privacy. This restroom was well-appointed with a sitting area, a vanity with good lighting, a shower and dressing room, and a series of toilet stalls.

  Sophie hurried into the nearest stall and dealt with her overactive bladder. She’d never understood this stage of pregnancy: the baby was hardly taking up any room, but she still needed to pee every hour or so.

  She washed her hands, examining her image in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes still wide wit
h anger.

  When had she ever let herself go like that? Raising her voice? Swearing at a man?

  Her early marriage to an abusive husband had taught her to retreat, to close down, to conceal all emotion behind a frozen mask. Maybe she was coming out of that, finally—or maybe it was just hormones. Not that either of them would dare accuse her of a hormonal outburst—she had made sure of it.

  Remembering the expressions on their faces made her snort.

  And then she laughed, and then that became hysteria, and then tears.

  Definitely hormones.

  But behind her anger, was hurt.

  Betrayal.

  Even shame.

  Her father didn’t approve of her choices. Frank was trying to manipulate and protect her by making some kind of deal with that infernal investigation team. Sophie needed protection—from her foolish choices in men, from Connor, and from Pim Wat and her powerful consort, the Master. That’s what his rationale would be, she was sure of it.

  The Secret Service must have been how they got to him. Sophie could imagine Kate Smith, with her honest blue eyes, approaching Frank with a proposal that he help his daughter get free from the taint of involvement with the Yām Khûmkạn and her deadly mother; and from Connor, a man with questionable motives.

  That would not have been a hard sell. Her father’s hatred for his ex-wife had been ignited afresh by finding out that Pim Wat was not only a manipulative depressive, but a spy and an assassin who had likely used him to gain information. Sophie still remembered the pain in his eyes when the truth about Pim Wat came to light.

  But Dad could have trusted her. He could have shared that classified file with her instead of Raveaux, and discussed all of their options. He could have believed that she was competent to find her way out of the situation. Instead, he’d told Raveaux, and threatened and used him.