Page 41 of Wired Ghost

Jake was no longer so, in any meaningful way. It would never be fair; nothing ever was.

And yet, he had to find a way to go on, as he had after Gita and Lucie died. Sophie would have to, as well. Maybe she’d be able to, maybe not. But for now, all he could do was keep going, and be there, when and if she ever needed him.

He called for a rideshare, and soon was on his way to the airport.

* * *

Openingthe door of his Waikiki apartment had finally begun to feel a little bit like coming home. The first floor unit with its sliding glass doors that overlooked the concrete trail fronting the hotels and Waikiki beach, was immaculately clean and smelled faintly of disinfectant; his cleaning lady had come while he was gone. The floor-to-ceiling blinds were closed, and the space was cool in the heat of the day, a refuge from the assault of overly cheerful sunshine outside.

He set his keys and wallet in the vintage glass bowl on the corner of the counter leading into the kitchen; hung his messenger bag on the hook on the back of the door, removing his laptop from it. He carried his valise into the bedroom with its tightly made bed, covered in a plain white cotton spread. He plugged the laptop in to recharge at the desk in the corner. And then he reached in his pocket and took out the stick drive that Ambassador Smithson had given him, still wrapped in a thousand-dollar bill.

The money, he understood—a gesture of thanks for helping his daughter. That he’d wrapped the drive in a vintage, out of circulation bill that might be valuable beyond its face value, seemed a classy touch. Raveaux wasn’t insulted; he’d have done something similar if a colleague had gone above and beyond to help his child—in fact, no price would have been too great.

These were the moments he was glad he’d had Lucie—to have been a father was an incredible, indescribable human experience that had deepened his joy, his appreciation of the human condition, his wisdom regarding his fellow man. Even if the deepest lesson, in the end, was the depth of pain the loss of a child could cause.

But what was on the stick drive?

Raveaux turned the plain metal plug-in drive over in his hands, feeling a tug of apprehension. There was something here that the Ambassador had wanted him to know, and Sophie not to know.

It was bound to be a sticky wicket, as the Brits said.

Raveaux set the memory stick down on his desk. He returned to the kitchen, fixing himself a snack of slightly stale baguette that reheated nicely in the toaster oven with several slices of a good Gouda and salami. He prepared his favorite Perrier with ice and lime.

Raveaux retracted the blinds, unlocked the slider, and stepped outside onto his sunny lanai. He cranked up the fabric umbrella, and seated himself to enjoy his view of the condo’s bit of lawn and the bright white sand and aqua sea of Waikiki Beach. With the sound of gentle waves and laughing children in his ears, he ate his snack and opened his latest paperback.

He was working his way through the Jack Reacher novels by Lee Child, enjoying the spare style of writing, the inferences, the twists and turns. Reacher’s stubbornly closed heart continued to seem an unnecessary tragedy—but he understood it all too well.

Finished with his food and his chapter, Raveaux brushed a few crumbs aside for the sparrows. He looked up at the waving palms—who knew that his life would have taken such a turn that this was where he lived, alone?

Ten years ago, he would never even have been able to imagine it. And yet, so it was.

Raveaux lowered the umbrella in case of wind and went back inside. It was too quiet, after the sound of the outdoors. Maybe he should get a small dog or a cat for company—but they weren’t allowed in these apartments. He’d have to move.

And maybe, just maybe—he was ready for that.

He went back to the office with the glass of Perrier, sat down, and plugged the stick drive into his computer.

It was encrypted.“Merde.”Why would the ambassador give him something that he couldn’t open? He didn’t have the man’s number to call and ask.

Maybe it was obvious. He could try a few things, like Sophie’s birthday, the name of her dog . . . He cracked his knuckles and went to work.

Chapter Thirty

Raveaux

Raveaux beganwith the obvious things he knew about Sophie: her name. Her birthday, which he’d gleaned off a glimpse of her license. Momi’s name and birthday.

The drive opened for Armita, the name of Momi’s nanny.

“Not too secure,” Raveaux muttered. “But also, not something just anyone would know. He meant for me to be able to access it.”

Raveaux clicked on the folder icon that was the only content listed on the stick drive.

Inside were several sub-folders. He clicked on the one labeled News, and scanned copies of articles detailing the bombing death of Todd Remarkian, the Australian co-owner of Security Solutions, a handsome blond in his mid-thirties who bore a distinct resemblance to Connor, the man who’d hijacked the helicopter to rescue Sophie and Jake.

The back of Raveaux’s neck prickled.Remarkian was supposed to have died in an explosion!

One of the articles implied that Sheldon Hamilton, the Aussie man’s partner and founder of Security Solutions, was wanted for questioning in the incident, but was “overseas indefinitely.”

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