Richard sat on the front steps of René's cottage. His ignored coffee sitting beside him had grown cold. A slightly bitter breeze grazed the side of his face and he hunched into his collar. Across the treed expanse on the other side of the pathway leading to her front door, he could hear motor traffic and the occasional shout somewhere down the road from a bunch of diehards playing bocce.

A weak row of street lamps lit the pathway and the narrow road and Richard saw a couple strolling arm in arm, their terrier straining against its leash to get ahead to the next shrub or post. Inside the cottage behind him, he heard the clink of dishes as René cleaned the kitchen from their dinner together.

He thought of the spontaneous tumble in her living room and her declaration that they did have a relationship, one she claimed that she intended to nurture. So far the nurturing had been very good. He smiled, thinking about their age difference and how he was surprised that she seemed content with his rather unanimated lovemaking.

Richard had never been the screen version of a spy when it came to romancing the women; his was a gentle but determined effort to achieve the same goal for both partners. René, on the other hand, was like a young colt, gangly, eager and morally unfettered. He thoughts ran to the ease with which the whole arrangement had been accomplished and his weak warning bell gave a single clink.

She came outside and sat beside him on the steps, her arm circling his waist and her head dropping to his shoulder.

"I made more coffee if you want any."

He looked down at his and picked it up, tasting the contents and dumping them beside the steps.

"Sounds good. Whenever you're ready."

She stood, took his mug, pecked his cheek and went back inside. He stared across the road and let his thoughts embrace the possibility of a life with this woman. Monique had been something different, more calculating, and more professional. Her priorities didn't have lasting relationships high on the list and he considered how lucky it turned out that their plans to be together failed.

René came back with two mugs of coffee and sat back down again beside him. They sat quietly watching the night arrive, and huddling together against the dropping temperature.

"Just how does this plan of yours work?"

He gazed at her face, shadowed but for a curve on her cheek that caught some of the sudden moonlight.

"I give you the necessary bank password and a paper authorizing you to convert the funds from the account to a bank draft in my cover name. Nobody will be looking for a young woman doing banking as anything out of the ordinary. If I show up, you can bet the bad guys will as well."

She sipped her coffee and giggled.

"What?"

"The bad guys? Richard Carstairs is a good guy?"

"You know what I mean." He felt awkward about her humour.

"I do . . . and you are a good guy." She put her coffee down and linked her arm in his. "What happens after?"

"That depends on you really. I'd be more than content to enjoy our riches together somewhere safe and warm."

"I need to know you mean that, Richard. I don't want to give up my life and find out I was just being used."

Her statement came with the instructor tone again and he studied her face carefully. What was it that bothered him?

"René, I confessed my original plan to you; we sorted it out . . . I thought."

"I know." She sat still.

"I want you, to be with you: I've never meant anything more in my entire life." He took her in his arms and kissed her softly.

She held his face in her hands. "Then let's do it."

Snatched

Inside a black van, parked on the avenue within view of the bank, two members of Jean's new team sat patiently scanning the traffic, paying particular attention to pedestrians.

"I bet Alphonso is driving Daniel crazy with this picture we got. I can hear him drooling from here."

"Daniel will let him go for only so long. I remember once-"

"By Christ, look!"

"What?"

"That woman!"

"Which one? The man was looking down the street away from the bank.

"That one, going toward the bank!"

"Get over it Jacque, she's a bit much for you."

"No, you idiot! Look at her. That face. It's her! Look at the picture?"

"I'd say maybe. We might have struck gold, my friend."

"I want to see the tattoo first."

"If we are wrong it will be unfortunate for her. But who knows, later perhaps . . . "If it is this will be very good for us with Jean,"

"Let's go."

The van started up and cruised slowly along the road toward Monique. She was practicing strutting her stuff, purse swinging casually along with her hips, looking forward to exciting the young direttore while she seduced him into releasing the money without a lot of procedural nonsense.

She didn't hear the vehicle coast alongside and when the door opened and the rough hands dragged her off her feet and into the back, her scream was lost in the closed space and the noise of acceleration as it squealed away.

Minnie swore when she saw the snatch and quickly took out her phone.

"Murray, Monique was just grabbed off the street by two men in a large Fiat van." She recited the plate number, the direction and the best description she could manage.

"It sounds like Jean's men, they were watching for both she and Richard. Any sign of him?"

"No."

"I'll speak to Nathan and see how he wants to handle things. Go back to your room and keep your phone on."

"What about Richard?"

"That will be my concern."