Page 6 of Once a Hero

However, she was back on a beautiful night in San Francisco.

A server came to refill Beatrice’s glass of water.

She had been sitting alone for a while, playing with her phone. Clearly Philomena and FBI agent were late.

How did Philomena elude the authorities for twenty-five years?

Well, how did Molyneux?

Why hadn’t the two met and dealt with each other in all those years? More unsolved puzzles there.

Beatrice felt no pity for those two women. For one thing, Molyneux had killed so many people that she would never leave prison—if she made it into prison. Numerous government agencies in North America and Europe were after her.

The server returned. “Would you like something else, ma’am?”

“May I have the dessert menu?” Beatrice felt like she had to blend in. Most of the people in the café were eating something.

“Certainly, ma’am. I’ll be right back.”

At 3:28 a.m. there was still no sign of anyone.

Beatrice’s shoulders began to hurt a little. Sore muscles here and there. She had slept poorly in the Gulfstream, besotted with worries about the project to take down Molyneux.

Once in San Francisco, she and her team had booked a hotel room and rented a work van. Then they ate meals in town, got takeouts, went to the gas station.

She had left an enormous trail for FBI Special Agent Jake Kessler.

To wit, if anything happened to her—should Molyneux decide to come after her—she had left enough footprints for Kessler to exonerate her or at least bring closure to her case in the event that it turned into a homicide.

She wouldn’t put it past Molyneux to do whatever she could to be the first person to get to the rest of the Amber Room.

The server returned and Beatrice kept it simple with a slice of chocolate cake with ice cream on top. When it arrived, she nearly forgot what she was there to do.

“That looks delicious.”

The voice was calm, friendly, and distinctly male.

Beatrice looked up, her fork in midair.

“Such a tiny slice.” It was all she could think of to say.

Jake Kessler smiled.

A nice voice that went with a disarming smile.

They finally met, but Kessler would never know that she knew who he was long before today.

He had gotten a haircut since Cannes, though that had been six months prior. Those scars on his forehead and left cheek were healing nicely.

Beatrice wanted to ask about his ribs, which Molyneux’s men had broken, but that would give her away to both the FBI and to Molyneux.

She wasn’t sure which one was worse.

Regardless, she was glad that he was still alive.

Her anonymous tip to Helen Hu’s personal cell phone had been a knee-jerk reaction. Beatrice could not let a fellow human being die in the ocean when she knew where Molyneux had taken him. The sudden storm was something else. She was surprised that Molyneux had escaped in a helicopter before the fishing boat capsized.

Thank God Helen and her team had reached him in time.

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