He will come around once I have him back in my grasp. – Amélie Laurent’s promise to Bill Henry.

Masked, I advance. – Rene Descartes

“What the hell do you want?” Jase growled into the phone. Glancing at the clock, Jase considered taking out his knife and stabbing through the offending telecommunications device, but he managed to restrain himself. 5 a. m.

“I need you to get some information for me,” the voice on the other end barked back.

Jase felt a threat rising in his throat, but restricted it to a declaration.

“I don't work for you anymore. Even when I did, you knew better than to call me at this hour.”

Undaunted, the man on the other end of the phone paused for only a moment, and Jase assumed the man merely searched for which tack to use. “You've always proven helpful in the past, even before you served us in an official capacity. No need to come back to work. We wanted free-lance for this job. We just need a little information.”

Perhaps if Jase offered enough deterrents, the man would go away. “Well, I'm not your typical free-lance. You had me payrolled before, but hiring me freelance will cost you.”

“We can offer you $10,000 for what we need. It's a few hours job; no need for too much inconvenience.”

Surprised, Jase hesitated. “It's not worth my time to take a job for that little.”

“Look, we just need some one-time information, and you're in position to get it. But you know we would engage you in a longer assignment if you were willing to take it.”

Suppressing a laugh, Jase forced himself to sound sincere - Bill Henry had nothing to offer Jase anymore. In fact, Jase hated Bill Henry with a violence he didn’t remember holding for anyone. Except maybe Felicity’s ex. That ass had almost killed the woman Jase loved.

Still, if Jack Buckley, from his hiding place, had called Jase, it meant something serious. Only one way to find out.

“I'm thinking about it, Jack,” he prodded. “What's involved?”

Jack Buckley, Bill Henry's second-in-command, did not answer for several seconds. “I can't give you details of the bigger job until you and I reach an agreement,” Jack explained. “Things have change since you last worked for us.”

In other words, Jack didn't trust Jase, a fact that seriously irked Jase. He had worked hard to camouflage what he had done for Felicity. No one but her family knew everything. Briel knew some, but she would never give Bill Henry anything but hate.

Fortunately, Jase’s history created his cover story with the company. First, there was his history with women. Though it had felt like blasphemy, he had obfuscated his actions in Banff by appealing to his past weakness with women, and by blaming Briel and her team for messing up an imaginary plan where Jase looked innocent to Felicity but still ended up where Bill wanted her. It was a total fabrication, but Jase was Jase, and he was a mystery to everyone. Jase strove for unpredictable – unless absolutely necessary to get his payout – and it had served him well on this occasion.

Jase took a breath. He would never help Bill Henry, not after what he had done to Felicity. But he was very curious to find out what the man was up to – especially after what he had done to Felicity. For now, he could play along and gather intel, letting Bill think what he would. “Just tell me where to meet you, Jack. I'll do whatever you need.”

“Great, Jase.” The slimy executive sounded pleased, and that fact alone made Jase want to tell the man where to shove his $10,000.

An hour later, Jase found himself under the grey glow of dawn, surrounded by disheveled brush and vines. The vines twisted between and around the nearby buildings and created a natural sound barrier for his imminent conversation. Rather than the rotund, balding figure of Jack Buckley, Jase now stood facing the diminutive form of Perry, a lower-level thug, clad as always in the head-to-toe khaki that matched both his skin and his hair. Jase could never discover Perry's exact genetic origins, though the name Perry Alvares spoke some Latin roots. Still, Perry's near-blond hair and light eyes, as well as his multilingual tongue, seemed to muddle his true identity.

Of course, in their business, such ambiguity offered distinct advantages; people often proved as baffled at Jase's own history as that of Perry. Jase's fair skin complicated the near-black hair and deep brown eyes that would otherwise have betrayed his North African roots. Though a generation removed, his Danish grandmother seemed to have bestowed her lily skin upon him, a fact which Jase used to his advantage when he had to blend in with some foreign society. Italian, Greek, Eastern European, Middle Eastern: Jase could adopt whatever mien necessary to evade detection.

“Since Banff,” the thug began, “ProtoComm has undergone a significant restructuring. Thanks to the unforeseen interference, Bill has relocated his operations, though I'm not at liberty to say where. I have successfully tied up most of the loose ends, but we could use some help in completing the sweep up.” Perry paced back and forth with Napoleonic arrogance, his hands clasped behind his back. Jase hated feeling subordinate to such a peon. How the man must have relished the opportunity to command Jase! If Jase could have risked it, he might have beaten the hell out of the man just to put him in his place. Easy, he told himself. There'll be time for that later.

“Since when do you speak for ProtoComm? I thought you stayed independent.” Certainly I counted on that when I asked you to watch Felicity.

“Independent enough. You know as well as I do in what capacity we work for Bill. You, though, haven't played your cards right. I, on the other hand, am enjoying some increased status since you turned tail. If it were up to me, I wouldn't include you, but you have inside knowledge of our subject. If we hired someone else, it would require laying again a path you have already made.”

“Just get on with the assignment, Perry. I'm losing patience.”

“Fine. No one on the outside is supposed to know that Bill Henry is functional,” Perry explained. “We have information that someone of your acquaintance has found out about Bill's condition.”

And you think I want to help you destroy a friend of mine? Jase always marveled at how a narcissistic man like Bill expected everyone else to bend to his whim. Of course, Bill probably expected it because people usually did. Instead of voicing his judgment, Jase just shrugged. “I’m busy.”

“I imagine you’ll want to clear your calendar,” Perry smiled, not particularly bothered by Jase's impatience. “Bill's current ‘agenda’ pays exceptionally well, thanks to the increased difficulty of conducting business as a known criminal.”

“What does he want me to do?” Jase pressed brusquely.

“We need someone to disappear.”

Jase scoffed. “Jack said this was a few hours job – disappearing someone takes a little more than a few hours. Besides, Bill knows well that is not in my particular skillset. Certainly, he was dissatisfied the last time I took that on.”

“If anything,” contradicted Perry, “your quick thinking and pragmatism in Banff impressed Bill – impressed me, too. Rarely seen someone so mercenary, throwing your boss under the bus to shift suspicion off yourself. That mousy agent bought the performance entirely, and since your name wasn’t in the lady’s file, you stay off the radar. Seduced that part of the documents right off the file, didn’t you?

“This person is not exactly a friend of yours; more like an associate. Though we could easily eradicate her, we have also received a very lucrative offer to enter her into the slave-trade. She has proven difficult to...” Perry paused as if searching for the right word “...to tame, and so we need the best man we know to bring her in. You're the best.”

Slave trade. The words sent a shiver down Jase's spine. When had Bill openly entered the slave trade business? Jase had thought Felicity was an exception, a particular form of torture that Bill had allowed because Brendon Miller wanted to punish his wife – for existing. Apparently, Bill had decided to stop the pretense after Felicity Miller knocked him down a peg.

Jase laughed at the irony. For years, he had rarely asked questions, rarely concerned himself with the greater scheme, as long as he could conscience his part in it. If someone the boss didn’t like disappeared, Jase didn’t need to know the details. Not since Felicity, though. Jase's conscience, which years of work with men like Bill had seared into insensibility, had dug its way out of the grave. Jase’s eyes worked better than they ever had before, and he saw everything with much more clarity. Annoying clarity.

“What you’re asking me to do is more than gathering a little information; you’re asking me for potential betrayal, and betrayal will cost you a lot more than $10,000.”

“So, you're refusing to help?”

Jase and Perry both understood the implications. Apparently, if Jase refused now, he would fail Bill's test, and Jase doubted that he would get a second chance.

So, if I just say yes to the first assignment, that buys me time to consider the second.

“I am saying that $10,000 isn’t enough to pull me out away from my current gig.” My nonexistent gig. Jase tried to approximate ennui with his expression. “I don’t mind picking up another job with him once I’m done with my current job, if the pay is right. But I’ll contact Jac directly when I’m available.”

“Fine,” Perry replied. “I'll let Bill know. No amount of money...?”

“If Jack wants to call me with better details, I’ll consider it. But I don’t foresee any way I’ll interrupt what I’m working on now.”

“Okay. We will find someone else this time.”

The rest of the conversation faded into obscurity as Jase began to plan his course for the next few hours. Of course, he had to call Amélie. Though he had shunned her since Banff, irritated at her attempt to tease Felicity, he knew that she would be the best inside source he had in ProtoComm. She had entrenched herself quite nicely in the new enterprise once Jase had introduced her to Jack Buckley. She was nothing if not ambitious.

Jase had known, in a roundabout way, the kind of person Amélie was, but he had ignored her issues just as he had ignored everyone else’s – especially because working with her was like working with a masterpiece. She was beautiful, her constructed self perfectly accentuating the natural beauty she possessed. Beyond that, she had assembled her bearing and mien for maximum attraction. Jase had partaken quite frequently in her intentional seduction, and she had done the same with him. They had an unspoken agreement.

After Felicity, though, Amélie had lost her luster, and she resented it. Jase had quit taking her calls, and eventually, she had abandoned her attempts. Amélie was entirely too vain to pursue where she was unwanted.

He didn’t call her to find out Bill’s job, though, because she beat him to it. Her obvious injury made Jase all the more suspicious when his phone rang less than half an hour after the conversation with Perry. For Jase, her willingness to call him could mean one of two things: either she had run into trouble, or Jack had recruited her to work on Jase.

“Bonsoir, Amélie,” he purred into the phone at once, unsure of what response to expect.

“Hmmm,” she replied petulantly, no hint of distress. Not really indicative of someone in trouble.

“I've been thinking of you,” Jase asserted, hoping to flatter her into forgiveness.

“Of course you have. That is why you have been rejecting my calls for the last two weeks. And you have been thinking so much of me that you have returned my calls?”

She was definitely angry, no matter her reason for calling.

“I am sure that you have not missed me,” he appeased. “You're never wanting for companions when I'm not available. I imagine I'll enjoy hearing all about it.”

His last comment seemed to render her speechless, and Amélie said nothing for a moment. Amazingly, he could still manage to shock her. Of course, he had not won her over with his teasing. Rather than respond in kind, Amélie delved immediately into the topic of business. “I am coming back to the States this week,” she informed him. “There are some things that Jack Buckley has contacted me regarding, and though Bill has been incapacitated,” so Amélie either didn't know about Bill, or she, too, protected the secret, “Jack has managed to provide me with enough incentive to return to help him.”

Yes, Amélie definitely retained some hurt feelings. She rarely discussed business over the phone with Jase, always insisting on a face-to-face rendezvous. Of course, Jase had in the past enjoyed these liaisons as much as she, but at the moment, he felt little enticement. Her reason for returning to the states, especially in light of his own communication from Jack Buckley, intrigued him much more than the idea of seeing Amélie.

“I could come see you,” he offered. No doubt, he might have to play the penitent in order to extract any information from her. If he could manage a business meeting with his French coworker, though, Jase wouldn't need to manipulate her into convening for some other purpose.

“There is no need for that, Jase,” Amélie said coldly. “As unpleasant as my company must be to you, I would hate to impose myself on your tender ego. I know that your recent rejection has bruised your pride.” Jase smiled at the obvious irritation the jibe betrayed; and she accused him of bruised pride!

“You can impose on me any time you wish, ma chère,” he offered. Amélie wanted to hear it; she wanted him to humble himself. If the appearance of humility could accomplish his purpose, then he could manage some humiliation. Jase ticked off the seconds until she answered him, fairly sure of her response.

“If you wish,” she allowed coolly, and Jase's lips curled into a smug smile. “I will fly into New York tonight. Meet me at Angel's at 8 p. m.”

Jase glanced at the clock on his dash as he pulled into his driveway; he had about an hour to spare. “A tout a l'heure, ma chere,” he offered smoothly, drawing the conversation to a close. “Au revoir.” As soon as he hung up the phone, he dialed a new number.

“Thomas,” Jase offered pleasantly.

“Jase,” came the enthusiastic response. “I haven't heard from you in a while.

“Yes. I haven't had much occasion to fly. Had to drive on my last assignment, so...”

“Well,” Thomas interrupted, “as long as you haven't found another pilot. You know how much I love flying you around. You always have the most interesting friends.”

Jase laughed. Over the years, Thomas had encountered several acquaintances through Jase, mostly female, and the assortment included members on both sides of the legal line. “I'm flying solo tonight, Thomas. I won't meet my company until I arrive.”

“Of course, that doesn't mean you'll return alone,” Jase could hear the smirk in Thomas's tone and decided to let the pilot work under whatever impression he chose.

“True,” Jase hedged. “Here's the problem. I need to get to New York by eight o'clock tonight.”

“Why is that a problem?” Thomas replied quickly. “Where do I pick you up?”

“San Antonio,” Jase informed his friend sheepishly.

“San Antonio?” Thomas had always picked Jase up from more exotic locations, flying to Caribbean islands or cosmopolitan cities, not to an upstart Texas town. Though the town had grown on Jase over the last few weeks, he didn't expect Thomas to understand the allure. “For you, though, no problem,” Thomas offered easily. “I've been wanting to hit New York for a while. Will you stay overnight?”

“No. It's a short trip today. Can we leave in a couple of hours?”

“Done. I'll head out now and meet you at the plane. I may take a nap, so give me a buzz when you're five minutes out.”

“Sounds good. You're the best.” Though Jase intended flattery, he really did believe it; otherwise, he would not have continued to use Thomas's services. The adventurous pilot always came through in a pinch.

Having hung up the phone, Jase climbed out of his car and sauntered up to his front door. Tonight, he would need to run on all cylinders to convince Amélie that nothing had changed between them. She did not possess a large measure of insight, too caught up in herself to fully assess others, but she knew Jase well and would know if something seemed amiss.

After a quick shower, Jase grabbed a snack and began his preparation. Avoiding any tendency for the dramatic, he went for casual, well aware that he should not appear too eager. Amélie would sense in a heartbeat such pretense coming from Jase. Pulling a sport coat off a hanger, he paired it with a deep burgundy sweater and a pair of jeans. He needed to portray an attention to appearance without any undue concern for it. Then he ran his fingers through his hair to muss it slightly, assaulting its too neat configuration – fortunately, it had grown disheveled in the last couple of weeks. Satisfied, he strode directly back out the door and turned his car to the northeast in the direction of his awaiting plane.