Louise was barely off Gunther's boat when her private cell went off. She moved to a corner beside a tackle shop and answered carefully.

"Monet is looking for Monique and the man who rescued her from Jean Tremblay's villa."

"Where did you get this, Robert?"

"An anonymous call to Gerard."

"Okay. If you get any more let me know. And try to pin down the caller."

She closed her phone and started toward the parking lot and her car. If Alaine Monet was looking for either Monique or Richard, the chances of getting to them first had diminished considerably. Monet was impossibly adept at acquiring his targets.

She unlocked her car and climbed in, starting the engine and racing off the lot without doing up her seat belt. Louise turned on her car phone and selected a number.

"News already?"

"Yes, and it's not good. You should know that Tremblay has Alaine Monet hunting Monique." She didn't want him to know about Richard yet; she wanted to deal with Monique herself. The silence went on so long she thought the connection had been broken. "Mister Tweed?"

"That is bad news. Jean must be very, very angry about what happened at the villa. He must not get to her, Louise."

"We're talking about Monet here. He is almost magical in his ability to track people."

"I repeat, he must not get to her."

"So what now, Do I kill her or not?"

"If we could get her first, we could do a deal with Jean." Murray was thinking on the run.

"You mean by having him call Monet off?"

"He's after her, Louise, if you get to her first his job is done."

She debated telling him Richard was a target as well but waited again. "And what of Richard, anything on that front you want share?" Sarcasm dripped down the line.

"Nothing yet."

"You people trained him a little too well to be on the opposite side."

"Keep me informed." The call ended and Louise stared at the receiver with a mild concern.

Louise hung up the call and swung the car off the main road and onto a lesser highway that led up the mountain. She ran through the gears with a viciousness that befitted her mood; she had been looking forward to applying her skills to Monique and now that was a go. She took the curve with the skill of a race driver, the tires stuttering over the gravel shoulder of the steep cliff.

The destination was a small café on an overlook to the Mediterranean. She sped up the last incline and swung sharply onto the gravel parking area with a skidding crunch. A face appeared at the window as she stepped out of the car and strode on long legs to the entrance.

"Nobody arrives like Louise Albert. How are you my dear?" The little man held out welcoming arms as she came through the door.

"I will be better when you give me good news, Michael." She found a seat at the bar and asked for an espresso. Garlands of fake holly were draped around the windows and the cornices, and a thin tree stood slightly tipsy near the entrance to the kitchen area, its single colour theme quite unexciting.

"I expect a call at any time now. My sources have scoured the city for this woman and we have learned that she may be in disguise and under a new name."

She gave her host a reproachful look. "That was a given, Michael. I hope you haven't been wasting time on this."

"On the contrary." The little man climbed onto a seat next to her and smiled his elfin smile." That fact gave us our first lead."

The phone jangled and Michael went behind the bar and answered, talking a moment and then listening and hanging up without any more talk.

"A single woman in an expensive suite at one of our fine city's most prominent hotels received a call from a Mister Tweed; does that mean anything?" His eyes sparkled as he saw the smile creep onto Louise's face.

"Murray." She placed a long finger on her chin. If he had located her, why didn't he say? Why make me continue the hunt with Monet in the same game?

The concern she felt when talking to Murray, returned.

"The woman's name?"

"Signorina Beauclair, initial C. We didn't get a first name."

"I need to make a call, Michael."

He hopped off the chair and around behind the bar, setting an old-fashioned dial phone on the counter.

"It's private, Michael." She waited until he left the room and then dialed her number.

"Yes?"

"It's Louise. Why didn't you tell me you had located Monique?"

"Congratulations on your quick work, your sources are very good indeed."

"A fact worth remembering." The tone was intended, and interpreted, as a subtle warning. "So, why didn't you tell me?"

"To be honest, my dear, I wanted you to find her through those clever sources of yours."

She sensed his smile creep down the line. "You tracked them didn't you."

"Knowing all the players in the game is very advantageous, Louise, It's how I stay on top."

"You only knew about Monet because I told you. I don't like your little games, Murray."

"Let me make something very clear, Louise, this is not a game. This is the end game in a very long and carefully considered plan. The bumps in the road were expected and that is why you are now removing them."

"Them?"

"I did presume you acting impulsively and setting your sights on Monet as well."

"Would that be a bad thing?"

"Not at all, but I wanted the main objective to be your focus. With Monet in the game, you need to be ultra alert."

She chewed her lip and smiled. "You might think you know me Murray, but in this case I would have behaved most professionally."

"I have no doubt." There was a long pause. "But if the opportunity presents itself, take it."

"What about dealing with Jean if it doesn't? He would still be on the field."

"I'll deal with Jean Tremblay if it comes to that." The call ended abruptly and Louise felt the slither of concern grow. What was Murray's real game . . . and what of his master, Nathan?