Page 32 of Wired Ghost

Raveaux

Raveaux had metJake for the first time a few days before the mission to the Big Island, when Sophie had invited him over to her apartment in the Pendragon Arches for a little party of drink andpupus, that Hawaiian word forhors d’oeuvres.

She’d had music on, smoky jazz from New Orleans, and the sweet dark sound poured out like molasses as she opened the door. “Glad you could make it, Pierre.”

“I am glad as well.” Raveaux held out a respectable Beaujolais. “For your wine cabinet.”

Sophie smiled. She was wearing something sleek and silver that glimmered to the floor. “I like a recovering alcoholic with the nerve to bring a bottle of wine to a party.” She took the offering in its pretty bag. “And knowing your taste, it will be too good for the company.”

Raveaux shrugged. “I didn’t know what you’d be serving, but of course you can open it now.”

“If you say to save it, then I will save it.” Her teeth gleamed, a row of harbor lights guiding him in. “Come and meet my friends.” She caught his hand to tug him into the dimly-lit room. Raveaux closed the door behind him, letting his eyes adjust to a glow emitted by jars filled with coiled twinkle lights that reminded him of capturing fireflies in bottles in his youth. A small mirror ball in one corner cast spangles over people talking in couples and clusters, some of them dancing. The music surrounded and suffused him.

“Something to hold in your hand is our first order of business.” Sophie led him into a geometric corner of the large, open room that marked the kitchen.

More bottles with twinkly lights decorating the area filled one countertop. Sophie reached unerringly in among them and grabbed a green glass bottle. She filled a crystal highball with bubbly water and ice, speared a lime on a plastic sword, and used it to swirl the cubes. She presented the drink to him. “You get one of the only real glasses in the place. Enjoy.”

“You remembered my evening Perrier and lime.” Raveaux was warmed as he took the glass. “I like the sound of the bubbles and ice cubes, even without the gin.”

“I know.” Sophie was already turning away to open a cabinet and stow his gift on the top shelf. “For when we need the good stuff,” she stage-whispered. “Thank you, Pierre.” Her kiss on his cheek sizzled everywhere, and he shut his eyes.

“So, this must be the famous French detective!” The loud male voice interrupting them had to belong to Sophie’s boyfriend, Jake.

Raveaux opened his eyes and focused. Jake was backlit and appeared as nothing but a large male shape. “Bonsoir. Yes, I am Raveaux. Thank you for inviting me to your evening.”

“Any friend of Sophie’s is a friend of mine.” Jake slid a burly arm around Sophie from behind her, pressing her slender form in its revealing shimmery dress against his body.

The man was as Raveaux had expected, one of those ex-military testosterone-driven types who had to establish dominance with anyone else near his woman. He hadn’t warmed to Jake that evening—but even so, he sucked a breath of shock now as he and Nine hauled Jake’s heavy form up and out of the pit.

Jake’s skin was bright red, as if he’d been parboiled, and where it wasn’t bruised, it was stippled with bleeding wounds. His head lolled as the rope dug in under his armpits. The oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth, but his chest didn’t seem to be moving.

Nine grabbed the rope and dragged the man up, gesturing toward the chopper and chattering in Thai. “I don’t understand what you are saying,” Raveaux panted. His hands were raw, his muscles trembling at the strain of pulling Jake up out of the pit. The man was over two hundred pounds of muscle and bone.

Nine made a hand-over-hand gesture, and Raveaux turned to face the pilot, scowling at them through the windshield. “Yes. We need his help to bring Sophie and Connor up, too. I get it.”

Nine nodded briskly. He bent down toward Jake, checking his vitals.

The man already looked gone to Raveaux, but they had to try to revive him—and Nine was right. Jake had been so heavy it had taken all their strength to pull him up, and the air coming out of the vent was none too good. He was glad of his small O2 canister as he forced himself to hurry to the chopper. “We need you to help us pull the other two up.”

The pilot tugged at plastic zip ties anchoring him to a grip bar at the side of his door. “Then cut me loose.”

Raveaux cut the ties with his combat knife. The two of them hurried back.

“He looks bad.” The pilot stared down at Jake as Nine did CPR.

Raveaux knelt beside the prone body, preparing to assist, when Nine lifted his mouth from Jake’s and grinned suddenly, holding up a finger.

Was Jake’s chest rising and falling?It was! Nine swiftly covered the man’s nose and mouth with the plastic O2 mask he’d been using. Nine gave him a thumbs-up, and Raveaux nodded, surprised to find himself smiling. “Très bien.”

“Where are the other two?” the pilot asked.

“Connor must be trying to revive Sophie.” Raveaux’s belly was taut with stress. “Why don’t you and Nine get Jake on the chopper and secure him on oxygen, and when Connor signals me, I’ll start pulling Sophie up. You two can help when you get back.” Using hand gestures, he was able to communicate that idea to Nine, and soon the two men were grunting with effort as they carried Jake to the chopper.

Raveaux knelt at the slit, tugging experimentally at the rope they’d dropped back down.

He felt a tug on the rope, and Connor told him to pull Sophie up and that his oxygen was getting low. Raveaux gripped the rope, bracing himself, and pulled.

He did his best to use his back and legs, but his hands burned like fire as the blisters from last time opened and bled. Sophie’s weight seemed like half that of Jake, but it was still a lot for someone who’d already used up a lot of his resources. Raveaux dug deep, shutting his eyes, heaving back with his bodyweight, then lunging forward to grab further down the rope, then doing it again.

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