Leaving without understanding at least part of the reasons why everything was happening also didn't appeal to her.

"Well?" Garin asked.

"All right. Where are the old man and my charm?"

"In Paris. That's where he's lived practically forever." Garin kept his foot heavy on the accelerator.

Three hours later they stopped for fuel at a truck stop.

Annja tried to open the door but it remained locked. When she looked for the door release, she saw that it had been removed. Feeling a little uneasy, she turned to Garin.

Without a word he pressed the release switch and the lock sprang free. He got out of the car with a lithe movement for such a tall man.

Outside the car, Annja looked around. Dozens of cars and trucks filled the service area. People milled about, making selections and chatting briefly. Most of them complained about the high price of fuel or confirmed directions to their destinations.

If she ran, Annja doubted Garin could stop her.

"They have a restaurant," Garin said as he opened the gas tank and shoved the nozzle inside. "If you're hungry."

Annja realized she was famished. She'd skipped the breakfast table Camille Lambert had laid out, then worked through lunch in Lozère searching for books.

For the first time she realized that most of her possessions, including most of her cash, was at the bed-and-breakfast. Using her credit cards meant leaving an electronic trail. She was sure it wasn't safe to do that.

"I'm hungry," Annja admitted. "Though I have to tell you, if you intend to walk away from the check on me, I'm coming after you."

"What?" Garin appeared confused.

"Nothing." Annja waved the question away. "How do you know the old man?"

"Roux?"

"Yes."

Garin shrugged as he settled back against the Mercedes and watched the digital readout on the gas pump flicker. "I knew him a long time ago."

"You don't look that old." Annja thought maybe he was in his early thirties.

"I'm older than I look. So is Roux."

Annja let the statement pass without comment. "Why did Roux take the charm?"

"He thought it belonged to something else he's been looking for."

The gas pump sounded as it shut off.

"Does it?" Annja asked.

Garin removed the nozzle from the gas tank. "I don't know. Maybe."

"What was he looking for?"

"You'll have to see." Garin hung up the hose and tossed her the keys. "Pull the car around to the restaurant side. I'll pay for the gas and join you there."

Keys in hand, Annja watched him walk away. There was nothing keeping her from taking the car and going. She had a full tank of gas. Paris was two and a half hours away. She could go to Paris and board a plane for New York.

If there's not a warrant out for your arrest, she told herself.

She didn't like the idea of running, though. And there was the matter of the charm and the black-robed men to consider. The book she'd found at Roland's had been quite helpful. She'd read most of it over the past three hours.

But it had also deepened the mystery. She knew what the Brotherhood of the Silent Rain had been, but not what had destroyed it.

Or driven it underground,she thought, remembering the tattoos at the throats of the black-garbed men.

In the end, she slid behind the wheel and started the engine. She drove to the parking lot by the restaurant and parked.

Garin Braden had never once turned around to check to see if she'd driven off. His confidence was almost insulting.

After he paid for the fuel with cash, because he didn't want to be traced in case someone in Lozère had managed to identify the car, Garin purchased a phone card and retreated to the bank of pay phones in the back.

He consulted his PDA and retrieved the phone number he was looking for. Then he dialed.

The phone rang twice and was picked up by a man with a British accent. "Lord Roux's residence."

The announcement caught Garin by surprise. He hadn't talked to Roux in years before last night. " LordRoux, is it? When did the old bastard get titled?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" The man at the other end of the connection sounded offended.

"Let me talk to Roux," Garin demanded.

"Lord Roux is not – "

"He'll talk to me," Garin growled. "Tell him Garin is on the line."

"Garin," the voice repeated. The way he said it told Garin that he had at least been briefed on the importance of the name if not why it was important. "Hold on, please."

Glancing up at the clock over the exit doors, Garin knew he didn't have long before the woman started getting suspicious about the length of time he'd been gone. Annja Creed was very alert, very much aware of things that were going on around her. She was no one's fool.

More than that, she was a beautiful woman. During the three-hour trip, while she'd evaded most of his attempts at conversation and kept her nose in her book, he'd wondered what she would be like in bed. Those thoughts had made the past three hours even more grueling because he didn't feel safe acting on impulses he normally didn't restrain. For the first time in a long time, Garin felt nervous.

"Garin," Roux said.

"Yes," Garin replied. He sighed, angry with all the troubling notions spinning around in his head. Here was the source of all his discontent.

"How did you get this number?"

"You gave it to me last night," Garin said because he'd always hated the old man's pomposity.

"I did not. Last night – "

"You were drunk," Garin interrupted.

"Not that drunk."

"We could argue the point." Garin had put his private detectives to work looking for the number upon his departure from Munich. It hadn't been easy to find.

"What do you want?" Roux demanded.

"Maybe, this time, I have something you want."

Roux was silent at the other end of the line. Then he said, "You have the woman."

Garin silently cursed. Of course Roux would figure out why he was calling. The man was keenly intelligent. "Yes."

"Is she alive?"

"For now."

"Why did you take her?"

"Because of the sword," Garin replied.

"It's not like you to be curious."

"I'm not. I'm scared."

Roux laughed. "I thought you had gone out and conquered the world, Garin. You with all your untold millions and women and fine living."

"I wouldn't say you've avoided wealth."

"No, but I live my life differently than you. I still enjoy taking risks. Throwing the dice and seeing what happens."

"I take risks, as well."

"Carefully calculated, carefully measured ones."

Garin knew it was true. Even the gunplay in Lozère was measured. He'd gone into it feeling supremely confident that he could get the woman. Or at the very least emerge from the encounter relatively unscathed.

The sword was another matter entirely.

"You have her with you now?" Roux asked.

"Yes."

"Where are you?"

"About two and a half hours from you."

"Good. Bring her here. I'll be waiting."

The phone clicked dead in Garin's ear. Trembling with anger and frustration, he cradled the handset. He took a deep breath. For those last few seconds of that phone call, he'd felt like that awkward nine-year-old child Roux had taken in trade for services rendered all those years ago.