In the meantime he would have to plan for all three contingencies. First, he would see if he could get any more information from his old handler Dimitri. The former KGB spook had to know more about this assassin than simply a phone number and an e-mail address. If he could find out who the assassin was, matters would be greatly simplified. If the man succeeded in killing Rapp, he would be expecting another $5,000,000 for fulfilling the contract. Abel could probably get the Hungarians to kill him for $100,000, maybe $200,000 at the most. Abel could then pocket another $4,800,000 and sever his business relationship with Rashid in an amicable fashion. If he couldn't find out any more about the assassin he would simply have to tread very lightly until things blew over. He reached a conclusion about what he must do in the meantime.

Abel swiveled in his chair and tapped the space bar on his computer to get rid of the screen saver. His Internet browser popped to full color on his flat-panel monitor. His fingers remained poised above the keys for a second and then he began typing his message. He was well aware of the interception capabilities of the Americans, so he kept his prose businesslike and to the point. For now he would keep his options open, but he would be a fool if he didn't begin to take certain precautions. Once this e-mail was sent he would need to make himself scarce. Now was the perfect time to take a vacation.

28

She woke up before he did, and started for the bathroom. As soon as she stood up she noticed something wasn't right. The room came in and out of focus, her steps were unsteady. She reached for the door frame to steady herself and then dashed for the toilet. She vomited once and then a second and third time. She sat there for a few seconds, leaning against the glass wall of the shower stall and holding her hair in a makeshift ponytail with her right hand. A thin layer of sweat covered her upper lip, but other than that she felt almost immediately better. So this is what morning sickness is like, she thought.

Claudia pulled herself off the floor and regarded her reflection in the mirror. She looked pasty white with a touch of gray. Not very flattering. When would she tell him? She had been so close, even last night, but at the last second something always came up. Now she was worried that she would distract him, and they could have none of that. He needed to stay focused and get this over with as quickly as possible. She looked at herself and struggled with what she should do. She turned on the faucet and doused her face with cold water repeatedly. She decided to wait until they were done with this job. Then she would tell him.

She brushed her teeth and took a shower. She felt almost normal despite the fact that she was famished. After wrapping herself in one of the plush white robes, Claudia opened the door and immediately registered the unmistakable aromas of sausage and cinnamon. She remembered that Louie had filled out the room service card for breakfast and left it on the door before they went to bed. He was now sitting on the couch in front of the TV with a large glass of orange juice in his hand. Claudia wasted no time parking herself next to him and grabbing the other glass of orange juice. She drank nearly half of it before she set it back down. The relief it brought was nearly instantaneous. She pulled the metal cover off of her breakfast and started slathering butter on her French toast. Next came the warm syrup and she dug in. Her focus on filling her stomach was so thorough she didn't notice that Louie was watching her.

The local NBC morning news was on the TV. Louie was also wearing one of the white robes provided by the hotel. His brown hair had that bed-head look, and the front page of the Washington Post sat folded on his lap. He'd stopped reading the paper and the TV was nothing more than background noise. His undivided and very discerning attention was focused entirely on the object of his affection. Claudia finally noticed that he was watching her. She set her fork down and wiped her mouth. After taking a drink of orange juice she turned and smiled. It seemed a bit forced.

His eyes narrowed and he said, "Are you pregnant?"

Claudia blinked. "What?"

Louie noted that her response was defensive. "It's not a difficult question."

She tugged at the neck of her robe and then crossed her legs, draping her left arm protectively across her abdomen.

He watched her every move, knowing the answer without having to hear it from her lips. Gould reached out and placed a gentle hand on her forearm. He pushed from his mind any thoughts of personal hurt that she hadn't told him and instead said, "If you are, it will make me the happiest man in the world."

Gould tilted his head and watched her intently. Her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly, and then her eyes filled with tears. "That is, if the child is mine," Gould added.

The tears spilled over and fell down the smooth skin of her cheeks. She let out a half laugh, half cry and swatted at him. "Yes…all those other men I sleep with. You'll all have to take blood tests so we can sort the whole mess out. Of course it's yours, you jerk."

Gould laughed and pulled her close. He kissed her forehead and rocked her like a baby. He was smiling from ear to ear. In a soft, almost apologetic voice he asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want it to distract you. I want us to get through this and then we are done with this life once and for all." She tugged at the sleeve of her robe and wiped her tears. "How did you figure it out?"

He smiled. "There were a few telltale signs here and there."

"Like what?"

"Well…I noticed when we were having sex last night that your breasts looked…" He gestured with his hands and groped for the right word.

"Bigger," Claudia offered.

"Yes, that would be the right adjective." He smiled and then added, "When I picked you up yesterday at the airport you were literally glowing. I thought it was from your brief stop in the Caribbean, but that didn't make much sense. You weren't there long enough. The giveaway, though, was your dash to the bathroom. I haven't seen you throw up in years. And then you came out here and inhaled half of your breakfast before you even noticed I was sitting next to you."

"You saw all of that," she said in a surprised tone.

"Claudia, darling, that's what I do for a living. I watch people. I study them."

She looked toward the window and nodded. And then you kill them, she thought. She sat in silence for a moment and then turned her attention back to his eyes. How could those caring eyes belong to a man capable of such violence? She needed to purge that part of him. He hadn't always been that way. Surely at some point he had been a carefree sunny little boy. Even as an adult, as a hired assassin, there was a gentle side to him. His father unwittingly pushed him into the arms of the Legion, and they had turned him into a killer. It would be her job to eradicate those instincts, to turn him back into the man he should have been.

She touched his face. "Now do you understand why this must be our last job?"

He nodded and wrapped his arms around her. "Yes. I do." He held her tight and thought about the very fundamental ways in which his life would soon be changing. Almost immediately, though, his thoughts returned to the here and now. The baby could wait. Would have to wait. They had to keep their focus and see this last job through.

He looked at the clock and asked, "Can you be ready to go in twenty minutes?"

"Why?"

Gould pointed at the TV. "I want to walk over to the White House and get a look at Mrs. Rapp."

She regarded the TV for a moment and then Louie. Part of her simply wanted to take the money and run, but she knew such talk would only upset him. We have the rest of our lives together, she told herself. Just get through this week and everything will be different.