Page 58 of Wired Ghost

Raveaux had been braced for that. He didn’t react. He’d never believed all this effort and manpower were being deployed to capture only Connor, no matter how effective a cyber vigilante he was. “Who are the associates you’re after?”

“That’s classified,” Beckett said.

Voise softened the CIA man’s comment with an affable shrug. “Suffice to say, Connor is a big fish, but we’re after even bigger ones.”

Raveaux sat forward and placed his wrists together in a ‘you got me’ gesture. “What do you want me to do?”

They proposed that Raveaux lure Sophie back to the United States with an excuse, so that they could track where she was hiding and likely “consorting” (according to Beckett) with Connor at a hidden location in Thailand. “She visits him at that location and uses the Security Solutions jet on her trips. All we need are the coordinates, verification that the man’s there, and we can scoop him up. Our contact in Thailand has already agreed to his extradition.”

“Extradition where?” Raveaux’s brows raised.

“Where we take all traitors like him. Guantánamo, of course.”

“All right.” Raveaux had no choice but to agree in this moment. “But I can’t contact Sophie for at least a full month since she went on leave. She won’t come in before then. She has her daughter with her, and she’s grieving. If I push too hard, she’ll check with Bix at Security Solutions, find out it’s a hoax, and this whole trap will fall apart.”

They’d agreed, reluctantly, to push back their timetable.

At last Raveaux was left in peace. He shut the door and locked it behind them, a vain gesture. He had to try to work out some kind of plan—but at least, for the moment, he’d bought a couple of weeks’ time.

Raveaux hurried to change and go for a swim so he could sort through this latest challenge.

He dove into the cool dark water. His goggles protected his eyes, but there was no point in opening them—the moon hadn’t risen, and there was nothing to see but the reflected lights of the hotels dancing on the waves and faint starlight overhead. He breathed on every other stroke as his arms scythed through the water in a smooth overhand crawl, his feet kicking up a foamy wake.

Raveaux’s heart rate, jacked up by the unwelcome visit to his apartment, finally began to calm as he swam—but the toehold he had on his new life had never felt more tenuous.

He reached the end of the curve of Waikiki Beach, marked by a stone jetty. He executed a flip turn before he reached the rocky area and headed back, mulling over the events of the evening.

He was trapped. His apartment had to be bugged. Everything he did was likely under surveillance, and as a foreign citizen on a work visa, he had few rights.

Raveaux paused, taking a moment to tread water and rest. He put his goggles atop his head and tipped it back to gaze at the starry sky. A few silvery wisps of cloud floated by; off in the distance he heard a plane approaching the nearby airport. But when he submerged his ears, all he heard was the swish of water, and off in the distance, the haunting song of whales.

If he called Sophie back to Hawaii with the trumped-up story they’d given him to tell her, he’d be betraying her in the worst way, and for what? There were elements in play of which he had little idea, such as this clandestine Yam Khûmk?n organization.

The ambassador probably thought he was protecting his daughter by cooperating with law enforcement on this operation—but there were larger forces at work. Sophie and Armita could too easily become collateral damage in a clash between the “criminal associates” and the international agencies—or handy scapegoats if things didn’t go as planned and someone had to take the fall.

Raveaux slid his goggles back down over his eyes, turned, and resumed his crawl stroke. He swam and swam through the dark water, wrestling with the situation, trying to find a way out—for himself, and for Sophie.

Chapter Forty-One

Sophie

Two weeks after Raveaux’s visit from the agents

Sophie’s custodymonth with Momi on the island had passed, one week blending into the next like a dream. Each day, Sophie slept a little better, ate a little more, and cried a little less. Long walks on the beach, teaching Momi to swim, picking flowers, playing in the sand, and chasing the active toddler around the island seemed to be working their healing magic.

On one of her daughter’s daily video calls, she asked to speak to Momi’s father.

“How are you doing?” Alika asked, his brows drawn together in concern. Their longtime friendship had only been strengthened by co-parenting Momi.

“One day at a time, as they say.” Sophie ran her fingers through her daughter’s ringlets as Momi played nearby on the floor with her favorite truck, making rumbling noises as she pushed it back and forth. “I hate to ask this of you, and I never have since she was born, but . . . can I keep Little Bean for another month? I don’t know how I’m going to do without her once she leaves.” Sophie bit her lip. “I’m holding off the depression, but—Momi is a wonderful distraction.”

“Sure. I understand. I’ll miss her, but if Sandy had died, I’d be asking for the same thing.” Alika had married the physical therapist who’d helped him adjust to having only one arm, and they seemed very happy together. “We both know Momi’s pure joy to be around—with a few temper tantrums thrown in.” He smiled fondly at his daughter across the miles.

“Thanks, Alika. I’m on leave from work, and this island is a healing place for me.”

“Keep me posted on how things are going, how you’re doing. Are you working out?”

“Not much, actually.” Sophie shook her head. “Dr. Wilson calls it anhedonia—loss of interest in activities you usually enjoy. I’ve been lying around, playing with Momi, or taking swims in the ocean. The water’s even warmer and calmer here than Hawaii.”

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