“What?”

“It was the Gray Man.”

Sean’s heart began to pound. “Verdoorn was on the yacht, wasn’t he?”

With a quick nod Cage said, “Jaco says he shot at the fucker as he was making his getaway. Apparently without effect.”

“Christ, Ken. If he was on the boat and he got away, then that boat is compromised.”

Cage shrugged at this. “Jaco says the girls are going to be moved to shore as soon as they get to Venice. They’re already on the way and will arrive in less than three hours. They’ll put them up at a private house, and we’ll take them to market from there.”

Hall took a slow breath, steeling himself for the fight that he knew was to come, then said, “This was already an extremely difficult security equation when you were protected by the yacht and the water around it. We were going to take you to market via a skiff, and you wouldn’t have to walk through those narrow pedestrian streets while an assassin targeted you. But now you are telling me that’s just exactly what we’re doing. No offense, Ken, but that’s crazy. We need to turn this jet around right now and call it a day.”

Cage looked off into space a few seconds. Hall knew all his men were watching this interaction between their boss and their protectee.

Finally the Director of the Consortium said, “Jaco says his men will check out the route, and they’ll position themselves accordingly. All you and your boys have to do is catch any bullets that come my way. That doesn’t sound too hard, does it, Sean?”

Hall tried another approach. “How about we take you to this private residence, you spend the afternoon and evening there? Meet all the girls. Spend all night with the special-handling merchandise. But don’t go to the market. It’s just too dangerous.”

“Sean, let me explain to you a few things about the responsibilities of being in charge. People will know I’m in Venice, and they will expect me to come for the festivities.”

“Not if there is a world-class gunman out there hunting for—”

“I’m going! You and these other guys, Jaco and his shock troops, the local mob who administrates the market . . . all of you just do what I pay you to do and there will be nothing to worry about.”

Hall knew that changing his employer’s mind was going to be a long shot, and like he’d anticipated, his long shot had failed, so he nodded without speaking and moved to the front bulkhead. Here he called his men up with him, and they sat, stood, or knelt close while their team leader talked about updates to their plans.

And while Hall spoke, he fumed. The ire he felt was not directed towards Cage, or at least the majority of it was not. He was, instead, furious at Jaco Verdoorn, because apparently Jaco had just told his boss that, despite all evidence to the contrary, the situation was under control and it was safe to come to Venice.

But Sean Hall knew something Ken Cage did not. He knew Jaco Verdoorn was as giddy as a schoolgirl at the prospect of going up against the uber assassin Gentry, and he wasn’t above using his employer as bait to draw his prey in.

Hall wasn’t going to tell Cage his concerns; he knew he didn’t have the juice to get into an interoffice political war with Jaco Verdoorn. The South African was higher in the food chain than Hall, and Hall knew Verdoorn would simply turn Cage against him if this morphed into a real fight between them.

No, even though Hall had nothing but misgivings about this operation in Venice, he would do what all good military men and women are taught to do when they don’t like an order—salute and draw fire.

He’d do what was asked of him, and he’d find a way to get his employer through the next twenty-four hours.

He thought of his bottle of vodka in his kit bag and wondered if he’d be able to sneak a few swigs before landing.

* * *

• • •

Roxana Vaduva lay on the bed in her stateroom on the lower deck, locked in with an armed Greek security man standing right outside the door.

Dr. Claudia sat on the edge of the bed next to her, an ice pack in her hand, and she held it to the young Romanian woman’s right temple.

“You are going to be okay, young lady. You are very lucky.”

“Lucky? The old man raped me, and then some man in a mask killed him right in front of me, then beat me up. Why don’t I feel lucky?”

The truth was Roxana had not, in fact, been raped by Kostopoulos, but she wasn’t going to reveal that to the American psychologist.

Claudia said, “Lucky to be alive.” She pulled the ice away. “And lucky to be still considered a friend. By me, at least.”

“What do you mean?”

“John doesn’t believe your story. He finds it suspicious you were only knocked out, and he thinks you might have spoken with the assassin. He thinks the man was here to help you.”

Roxana drew on her acting background now. “Then where is the help?”

“We watched the playbacks of cameras around the boat. The assassin was in Kostas’s room for almost five minutes before he appeared on the main deck and jumped into the water. Plenty of time for you to talk to him.”

“He knocked me out. I don’t know what he did in the room while I was unconscious. He didn’t kill me, because I wasn’t what he was after. It’s pretty obvious, even to me, that he came to kill the old man.”

Claudia regarded her closely, but Roxana didn’t waver.

Finally, the doctor said, “I am inclined to believe you. But John . . . I warned you about him. He will follow the Director’s orders, but I’d keep my eyes open if I were you.”

“Did you tell the old man to do what he did?”

“Of course not. But these are powerful men with powerful desires. I can’t control what they do, and neither can you. Honestly, though, I think what happened to you is for the best.”

“For the . . . best?”

“You needed to learn your place in all this. You have to give to get in this world, and you will be getting a lot of good things the moment you do your part.

“I hope this difficult lesson was . . . was beneficial.”

Roxana knew she needed to be the best actress she could be now. “I . . . I understand. I don’t want that to happen again.” She looked down at the floor, then lifted her eyes back to the American woman. “If the Director can protect me, then I will behave.”

Claudia smiled. “Very good. I am so pleased the program has helped educate you in all this. And just in time, too. The Director will be here this evening, and he wants to see you.”

The young Romanian fought tears until Claudia dabbed her face once more with the ice and then handed it to her. Then the American left the stateroom, and when the door closed, Roxana closed her eyes, holding the ice there on her temple where it throbbed.