There's never any great risk as long as you have money. – E. M. Forster

Potential sources for the messages:

Jase Hamilton FBI contact ProtoComm contact Unknown entity Liam Monroe Notepad on Briel’s phone

“Mignon! You have returned. I began to doubt you would come back.”

Briel smiled pleasantly as Monsieur Vico led her into his scanty living room, desirous of maintaining the obviously taciturn state of the Corsican's mind. As if the gloom from outside had followed her in, the lamps scattered around the cramped room illuminated only anemic pools of the rugs. Briel ignored the shiver that ran up her spine. “You needed time to find information,” she explained, “and I needed time to gather my resources. I trust you have something for me.”

“Of course,” the man's face crinkled into a grimacing smile as he seated himself on the once-white upholstered chair. “I still hold many contacts among the crowd that interests you. In fact, I found your Bill Henry almost as soon as I looked for him. He stays in a large château north of a town called Senlis, thirty miles north of Paris. Until recently, Monsieur Henry had rarely inhabited this château, but in recent weeks, he has hired several domestics to work for him on the manor.”

“I can't thank you enough, Monsieur Vico. I could have searched for weeks before I began to look that far north.” Even with the substantial sum she planned to pay the old man, the information she had received would earn him the sum. Henry's physical location would no doubt yield bountiful information as soon as she could make it to his vicinity.

“C'était rien, ma chère.” He gestured to his chair's twin which rested a few inches from its brother. “Asseyez-vous, s'il vous plaît. It was nothing. You asked a very simple request, and the fulfilling of that request proved uncomplicated. I have rarely found so easy a fortune made.”

Briel sat grudgingly on the seat he offered – she would indulge him for a few minutes. Annoyed with his reference to the exorbitant cost of the business, Briel transferred her focus from M. Vico to his laptop which rested on the coffee table before them. “May I?” she asked presumptively as she brushed against the mousepad. The man's hand flew from its position on his knee to rapidly close the computer.

“Désolée, ma chère. In my work, one cannot be too careful. I am sure you possess some other method to wire my funds.”

Even with M. Vico's rapid hand, the word that she made out on the screen sent shivers down her spine: Nicholas.

It meant nothing. It had to mean nothing. Nicholas was an incredibly common name, Yet, Briel’s stomach dropped. What would it mean if this man had Nick’s name on the computer? Did it mean that someone had communicated with him about Nick? Or did it mean that Nick had contacted the old man somehow? She had been communicating with Nick on the computer; who else could track where she was? Who else would know anything about Le Corse? Ted. Ted knew she was going to France. So, Nick. Nicholas, on the Corsican’s computer. And if she knew one thing about Nick, she knew he could track her by a computer signal.

Reining in her anxiety, she forced an even tone. “Of course, I have no problem wiring the funds without your computer, but I must leave to access another if I am to make the transfer. I wouldn't think you would want me out of your sight before the completion of the transaction.”

“Ma chère, ma chère. You have too much integrity to cheat an old man. Besides, someone as trusting as you must by nature prove trustworthy, non?”

At this, Briel could not contain an ironic smile, “Monsieur Vico, you are playing with me. You and I both know that anyone can lie.”

“Oui, but some are naïve even in the lie, mademoiselle.”

Briel did not wish to engage an insane old man in the philosophical discussion of criminals, and she ached to get started back to Paris. If she had known how close Bill Henry resided to her entry point into France, Briel could have shaved several days off of her investigation and avoided the unpleasant stay with her cousin. On the way, she would figure out exactly what she had seen on the computer. Nicholas, on the computer of a criminal, hidden and protected by said criminal so Briel could not see the significance.

In a way, the significance mattered little. Whether Nick was a target or a culprit, Briel wanted to stay far away from him. It seemed contacting him would either expose him – or expose herself. Getting out of town fast seemed of highest importance.

“Merci, monsieur,” she mumbled, standing to her feet. “I will transfer the funds shortly.”

“I wish that this venture would prove as outstandingly lucrative for you as it has for me,” he crooned, a fierce amusement lighting his eyes as he spoke.

“Au revoir, monsieur,” she replied curtly.

“A tout a l'heure, ma chère.”

She would transfer the funds. How exactly am I going to do that?

Intent on finding a solution, Briel stepped out into the late-afternoon sun. She glided down the decline of the road and turned onto the next which bore a steeper incline, paved as it were in the cobbled bricks of the previous century. Ahead on this road, the castle ruins that had dominated the area for the five preceding centuries appeared to tumble down continuously as she watched.

The path lay somewhat constricted on either end by a low-hanging arch, low enough to restrict the access of larger vehicles, but high enough for any human to enter unhindered. To her left, about half-way up the row of shops, Briel spotted the internet café, and she felt struck by the juxtaposition of the ancient and the modern, the castle and the café – such an abstract of the entire French culture. Ancient and affected.

For one moment, the sight of the eighteenth-century church interposed itself between Briel and the massive castle, and its appearance sobered her. Forcefully, she shoved all intense thought from her head and delved headlong into her new scheme.

Five thousand dollars.

Her only benevolent option lay with Nessa, but Briel held as much conviction as ever that Nessa needed to stay far from Briel’s chaos.

Though likely disinterested, Liam was an avaricious bastard. He always stepped up in a combat situation, but he did not fare as well in a personal setting. Even if she could get ahold of him, he likely would not hand out a load of cash – that was not the kind of relationship she shared with him.

Before she had arrived in France, Nick would have seemed a no brainer and Jase a remote possibility. After seeing Nick’s name on the laptop, the men had reversed positions. Still, though Nick had proven more dangerous for Briel personally, he could not understand the complexities of her job. He could not hold the criminal contacts Jase held. Certainly, without the decade of stealth operations, Nick could not possess Jase’s level of furtiveness. That fact more than any other decided her.

Contacting Nick, though not easy, would prove simple.

With that in mind, her mind drifted to the most dangerous moment she had experienced with Nick. The moment she realized he was tempting her out of her chosen path. As she seated herself in front of the desktop in the café, the memory arrested her forward motion. A few days after Brendon and Felicity Miller had departed for Banff, Alberta, and Briel had found herself left behind and needing access to Brendon Miller's computer. Luckily, Felicity's brother had conveniently acquired permission to use the Miller's home, intending to woo Briel with his domestic skill. Fortunately, he had chosen poorly in his attempt to impress her.

Still, Briel somehow could not escape the fact that she liked Nick, a fact that both pleased and terrified her. She had no problem with his physical attractiveness – she had dated Liam for several months, and the two men's looks could compare in degree of temptation. Nick, however, possessed many characteristics that differed greatly from Liam's.

Besides his intelligence, which immediately prejudiced Briel against him, Nick's easy-going nature lulled Briel into a state of complacency, and that was a dangerous state for her. For several days Briel had tried to push him from her mind, but she kept mulling over, not just his physical and personal strength, but the unusual mantle of humility, kindness, and gentleness that he bore – somehow, he managed all the power with none of the swagger. Briel could not understand this and did not trust it As she had entered the Miller's residence on this occasion, Briel had literally rolled her eyes at the clichéd setting: dim lights, soft music, scattered candles. Still, the food smelled delicious, and Briel couldn't really complain about the prospects for good conversation; Nick never lacked for subject material. All in all, Briel thought, I've had worse assignments, she recalled her earlier conversation with Nessa.

In reality, Briel had expected Nick to leave off his pursuit of her when she revealed the true nature of her employment at the Miller's. Surely, he realized that the change in her stated purpose erased the previous state of her relationship with him as well. It didn’t matter that she had held his hand while he spoke with his sister, noted the pain on his face. It didn’t matter that she had watched his favorite movie with him, far too physically close for disinterest, when Felicity had shut him down and he had to contain his frustration. It really didn’t matter that when she had shown up at his house after realizing that she had lost all of her leads, even though he had no idea why she was upset, he had returned the favor and talked her down from her irritation. That had all been part of an operation.

Still, he hadn't seemed to redirect his intentions, and Briel had let herself use the excuse of maintaining access to Brendon's files to keep up her contact with Nick.

“Come in,” he had greeted her with the cheery grin so characteristic of his strangely boyish nature. He strolled over to accompany her into the house and offered her entrance to the kitchen where he worked on finishing their meal. Briel followed, feeling a little insecure. No “target,” though the opportunity rarely arose, had ever sought a relationship with her after she exposed the true nature of her assignment. Yet, here she stood, having dinner with what should have stayed an incidental contact.

“Sorry about the sappy setting,” he grimaced, addressing her earlier unspoken assessment. “I debated on whether to continue as usual, but I figured, 'She agreed to a date. I'll make it a date.' Besides, you have to admit this is more comfortable than glaring lights and silence.”

Not if you're trying to avoid being lured in, Briel responded internally. Truly, she felt entirely too relaxed.

“This is hardly our first date,” Briel corrected. “We've had several dates before this.”

“Sort of,” he disagreed, “but those don't really count. You weren't really you then. You were my sister's nanny, right? I'm on a date with the real Briel now.”

His words actually terrified her. No one could honestly claim a “real date” with Briel, because even those who knew her profession didn’t know her. In a way, Nick was the reverse – or had been. He had known her, but she could pretend he didn’t because he was ignorant of her profession and identity. Now that all the veils had been removed, did that make her more vulnerable than she usually was? “I'm not that different than I acted before,” she hedged.

“Oh, I know,” he smirked. “Still, you can't exactly claim that nanny and spy have a similar job description.”

“I'm not a spy!” she corrected, raising her voice at his teasing.

Nick laughed and slid the stir-fry out of the pan and onto a bed of rice. “Here,” he didn't respond to her petulance but handed her two plates to carry to the table, which she took without relish. How did he always manage to irritate her so much?

“You know, I'm not going to ask you to do anything you don't want to do.” He led the way to the table, and inexplicably, Briel found herself following. “If you don't want to have this date, just tell me.”

He set the stir-fry on the table and turned to pull Briel's chair out for her. Had she really lamented a lack of chivalry? This overt expression of politeness challenged her sense of self-sufficiency, and she didn't even think he manufactured his gentility for the purpose of the date. It oozed from his very essence.

“I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to have this date,” Briel lied.

As so often occurred, Nick tilted his head skeptically at her assertion. “Briel, I know you were here on a mission, and I know you're leaving soon to pursue whatever it is you need to pursue. If you need information from me, just ask.” He leaned in a little, adopting a pleading expression. “But don't sit here with me as a charade. I like you too much for that.”

The conversation occurred entirely too early in the evening. As of yet, Briel had received no information from Nick, and she didn't want to squander the opportunity that the relationship provided. More disturbing, Briel did not want to squander the relationship.

“Nick, I...” she stuttered, having no idea what she wanted to say, but she began to speak fearing the silence. She owed him no explanation; she never gave explanations. Instead, she distracted and redirected and smoothed over. So why did she want so badly to explain to him why she couldn’t date him? Her resultant confused mumblings did not serve well – silence would have served better. A shadow of dejection flitted across Nick's face, immediately replaced by an unassuming but genuine smile that communicated too clearly to Briel. Nick had taken her hesitance as a negative; still, instead of naming her rejection, he had decided to suppress his own unhappiness in order to help her.

Of course, he couldn't really understand her ambivalence, the desires that battled inside of her, and she felt grateful for that fact. She could not afford for him to understand the truth, though the pang in her gut told her that she regretted his misunderstanding at least to an equal degree.

In typical fashion, Nick averted the topic, apparently unwilling to tarry long in the unpleasant waters that Briel had embittered.

“So, I have an idea on those passwords,” he began casually as he and Briel indulged in the food he had prepared. “All the encryption protocols that I've tried have failed. Jack the Ripper did nothing. I think I'll try to brute force it. A company this size has enough resources to buy some pretty heavy security, but on this pc, they won't have any kind of system-wide protection that effects it. I'm pretty sure Brendon copied these files illegally.”

Nick continued to ramble in technical jargon, and Briel interjected where she could to keep the conversation going, still too diffident in the turbulence of her emotions to allow silence. After the meal concluded, Nick stood unceremoniously and reached for Briel's hand, as he had done so often over the last few days, pulling her across the room to the pc which they had discussed. About half-way across the room, however, he seemed to recall the tenor of their earlier conversation, and he released her hand awkwardly.

“See, if I send out this DNS changer,” he continued as if the interruption hadn't occurred. “I can utilize the bandwidth of hundreds of computers to process through the possible passwords until I find the right one. If I had a large enough server, I could do it without the hacking,” he grimaced apologetically. “But I don't, so...”

Briel couldn't quite maintain her usual cool facade. With all of the forced conversation, the intensity of her underlying emotions pressed more stubbornly against the constriction. She stiffened imperceptibly, and her breath sped, though just a tad. Why did I have to like him? she lamented. If she hadn't cared, she could have left him coldly behind.

Of course, her sudden change of demeanor couldn't possibly escape the too observant Nick, and he turned to her and took in her saddened expression.

“Don't feel bad, Briel,” he reached for her hand again, this time a gesture of comfort. He had once again misinterpreted the emotion behind her expression. “I understand; this is how it works. I want to save my sister, too, so...you're off the hook.”

The words popped out before Briel could restrain them, “That's not it,” she blurted. “I don't feel guilty, exactly.” This could not happen. Under no circumstance could she let herself do this. Yet, when she looked up into the cerulean pools that swam with so much concern for her, so much subdued affection, Briel could not restrain herself. She didn't want to. “I just think that if things were different...” She didn't know how to continue once again. Twice in one night he had stumped her - an unimaginable feat.

Before she realized the trajectory of his free hand, he had reached up with it to cup her face. She held her breath. “I see, Briel,” his eyes arrested hers. “I see you. I just don't know why you hide.”

Her heart pounded inexplicably at his touch, in a completely different fashion than at any time before – definitely more than when Liam imposed on her. This was so much more than physical. For once powerless, Briel averted her gaze to the floor, opening her lips to speak. No thought would respond. She sensed his movement as he leaned toward her, rolling the chair closer as he lifted his face from somewhere beneath her and gently placed his lips upon hers. Their heat burned, and time slowed as the warmth that radiated from him washed over her. Helplessly, she closed her eyes.

And he had pulled away.

Still, she felt a slight quivering that seemed to emanate from his body as the warmth fled from before her. Briel had hardly moved from her downcast posture. The sensation had seemed so completely surreal that Briel questioned its occurrence. Had he really just kissed her? With her anorexic imagination, she thought she might have hallucinated the entire exchange.

Only the rapid movement of his shoulders as he stared at the monitor betrayed any emotion on his part. For several seconds, she just stared at his profile as he tapped mutely on the keyboard. Finally, he spoke, his voice subdued, continuing their conversation as if the kiss had never occurred. Until the day she kicked him out of her Phoenix apartment, neither of them spoke a word about the exchange, though they worked together for two more weeks.

That was the moment she had known – she had to get away.

That was the moment she had hardened her heart, and though he managed a couple of near hits, she had kept him at arms-length until the day she left for Banff. All the laughs, all the half-hearted reminiscing about her family, all of her offered comfort for his anxiety over his sister – over a month and a half of building and fostering the connection – had not reached her in the same way his words had that night. Maybe the previous connections had softened her up, rendered her susceptible, but she had sprung back from the words that night as if they were a venomous snake – “I see you.” Even the intensity of their last kiss had only served to strengthen her against him. But those words had terrified Briel because she had known they were true, and that was something she had never experienced before. It signified a raw openness that threatened her carefully crafted and controlled self-reliance. Nicholas Alexander had somehow seen into the depths of her soul, and she had somehow let him.

Now, staring absentmindedly at the monitor in the internet café, the echoes from the night immobilized her. Had the memory arisen to confuse her…or to reassure her? For the first time, she realized that she wanted it to be true, that Nick was a good man who cared about her. She had never doubted it before, but now she did. Just when she needed the most confidence, she realized that the loss of her conviction left her unable to focus enough to create her usual inner stability.

With her instincts fully deconstructed, Briel would have to rely on something new. She would take one more risk, put out a fleece, and if the money arrived, she would decide to trust Nick, explain away the Corsican’s coincidence as irrelevant. She felt grateful that keyboards and monitors could not convey emotion as easily as direct human communication. Forcing her fingers to move, Briel downloaded the app and logged in, then typed the necessary message, reverting to an even more terse style than normal to avoid revealing her susceptibility.

Transfer funds now, she typed directly, followed again by the series of numbers he would require.

Are you okay? I've been a little worried.

I'm fine, she replied, determined to minimize the information she handed him.

It’s just that I dreamed about you last night, he claimed. Her stomach clutched involuntarily. What was she supposed to do with that? If he wasn’t lying, could she really treat him as coldly as she intended? Please don't freak out – he continued. I'm not trying to stir anything up. I think it's just because I've been worrying about you even when I try not to. Thanks to you, I can't rest even when I'm sleeping. No one knows where you are, right?

No, she allowed, no one knows where I am. Then she qualified to herself, Except maybe you.

Because I dreamed that I saw you in a dark underground room, alive but trapped. And it was so dark you couldn't see me, and I couldn't reach you. And every time I tried, you started throwing things at me.

Briel laughed out loud. That sounds very dramatic.

Oh, ha, ha. It's so easy for you halfway around the world. I just have to sit here and wait.

Wait like a woman, Briel thought sardonically, snapping somewhat out of her stupor. How many times did a woman wait in fear as her husband quested through his life fighting battles? She smiled at the somewhat demented pleasure she felt with the power.

Easy? she challenged.

You know what I mean.

No, unfortunately she didn’t know. She knew nothing. He had deceived her as Ted for almost a month, withheld his identity to con his way past her defenses. And now she had seen his name on the laptop of a criminal. Her instincts labeled him a concerned lover. But what if she was wrong? What if he had played her as thoroughly as she had believed Jase could? What if he was smarter than she had given him credit for? Nick, you know, you talk like you have some interest in the outcome of my dilemma. You realize this doesn't change anything.

Maybe what happened between us happens to you all the time, he countered, but not to me. I don't think I will ever meet anyone like you again. Briel closed her eyes, jagged pain lancing through her chest. No matter where you are, he dangled, I'll always be wondering why you walked out my door.

The vision rose again, more than a vision, a sensation. In the middle of a foreign land, on a narrow, cobbled road, in a seedy underground café, Briel felt the warmth of Nick's lips upon her own, and it nearly paralyzed her.

Stop, Nick. you can't do this, she insisted. I appreciate all your help –the money, the airport tip, the encouragement – but there is a limit to how vulnerable I can make myself in this situation.

Airport tip?

And the money, the encouragement. Okay, I get it. You’ve helped me. But no matter what, you have a different agenda than I do. I have to stay on task.

She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Instead, she stared at the browser where she had logged into her bank. For too long, nothing happened.

I was right, he finally proclaimed. This whole thing is my fault. Once I realized you were in danger, I just should have pretended to be an FBI contact, Devin Torres or something, and then just disappeared when you were safe. I pushed because I was afraid I would never have the chance if I didn’t. I thought I could talk you out of this. Instead, I took you out of your game right when you needed most to be in it.

Nick. I’m not yours to worry about. I always come out ahead, and whoever has it out for me is in for a surprise, okay? It was both a threat and an assurance.

Damn it, Briel. You can't stop me from worrying.

Actually, I can, she informed him.

Let me send someone to help you. Your team has been trained for this.

No! I am fine! I can do this. Briel shuddered at the thought of how much her team would distract, not knowing whether they had come to help or hinder her. You said I could ask for assistance. I am asking. I need money.

I'm not contesting that. But you don’t have to do this alone.

Nick, I'm done. I can't keep arguing with you. You pushed your way into my life, tricked me, at the worst possible time. Right when it was exploding, and I needed all of my mental resources. You are just one more insanity in the insanity that is happening to me right now. Either send me the money or don’t, but I’m done.

Did you ever think, Nick countered, that Providence brought me into your life just at this time to give you an objective source? Someone who could help you without a vested interest? Someone you could trust?

Without a vested interest, Nick? Are you going to claim that?

For several seconds, Nick said nothing, and Briel swallowed, unsure if she wanted him to answer. Exactly what was his interest?

Maybe not – maybe I could at least claim disinterest. I admit that I would benefit if you come over to my way of thinking, but you have to know that my way of thinking is always determined by what is best for you. If I thought staying away from me would benefit you the most, I would run away and hide where you could never find me.

Despite her uncertainty, Briel smirked at the idea – where she could never find him? Unlikely, That would be quite a challenge. You’d as likely ensure that I would seek you out if you tried that – maybe you played this wrong.

Yeah, I’m the professional at making jokes when stating the truth would make me cry. Are you really going to claim that you’re sorry I found you?

Of course she was sorry. Nick Alexander had pushed his way into her life and torn to shreds her controlled, focused paradigm. Now, she did not know if she would ever feel satisfied going back to the status quo. Even worse, either she had played the biggest fool in the world, or she had led a helpless man into an unwinnable dilemma. If the Corsican had Nick’s name as Briel’s weakness to exploit, Briel had brought Nick – an maybe Felicity and the kids – into danger. If Nick had contacted the Corsican for some reason, the destruction of Briel’s world had sprung from a lie – the lie that Nick had cared.

Unfortunately, Briel could too easily derive reasons Nick, if he proved as dark as most of humanity, would wish Briel ill. “Without a vested interest –” he had claimed, but that wasn’t true. He did have a vested interest,

For one, he might hold resentment for how she had dismissed him, used him and shoved him out of her life. And for another, Briel had placed Felicity in actual danger in Banff. What kind of a person would send a completely innocent and inexperienced person into the den of traffickers and criminals? Apparently, Briel would. If Nick resented her, that was enough reason.

And that was when a new suspicion woke in Briel’s mind that she couldn’t silence. If Nick resented her for what she had done to Felicity, there was another person who would resent her as much or more: Jase Hamilton. She had always suspected Jase of being Ted.

What if, instead of Jase or Nick, Ted had sprung from two people with a shared interest?

The shared interest would be Felicity; the two people, Jase and Nick.

Briel felt sick. Her mind had supplied a complete fiction, but it was a fiction that could have basis in fact. In fact, her recognition of how desperately she wanted it to be false spoke how far she would go to explain away issues regarding Nick. She had lived in delusion, pretending that a character from a computer was a benevolent admirer. That was the actual fiction. She had been a fool.

But certain occurrences should have bothered Briel – would have, if she hadn’t chased a fantasy. Several times, Ted had lost track of their conversations. Forgotten things they had spoken of. Known things she had never told him. Because, as she had told herself earlier, “he was just too good to be real.” He wasn’t real. Ted wasn’t Nick. Ted was actually two people.

You’ve been working with Jase Hamilton…somehow letting the words flow from her fingers despite the foolishness of the action.

Jase Hamilton? Briel, what are you talking about?

Ted. You and Jase. You spent the last month lying to me and manipulating me. I wondered how you knew things. There were messages I got from Ted that didn’t fit; you would act like we had talked about things we hadn’t or not remember conversations we had. I had thought I misunderstood or you forgot. But that is also what would happen if there were two of you.

Two? Briel, I am Ted. I haven’t spoken to Jase since Banff.

And that is exactly what you would say.

What you’re saying doesn’t make sense. You know me, Briel. You know I couldn’t hurt you. In fact, have you looked at your bank account? The money is transferred. I told you I would help you. It’s why I’m even talking to you – I care about you.

Glancing at the screen, she noted that he had, indeed, transferred her money. He had ostensibly done it before, in Mexico, but that was a measly hundred dollars. Did Nick have reservoirs of cash lying around to use to trick people? Jase, though. But if Nick were working with Jase, five thousand dollars would signify nothing. Jase dropped twice that on a regular basis to impress and mislead people. Had he done the same again, using Nick as a cover.

I know that I put your sister in harm’s way, and I know that both you and Jase have every reason to blame me for it. So, after I take down Bill Henry, then I’ll hunt you down and we can clear things up between us. Maybe you’re right – maybe there’s some justice in the idea that I suffer what I risked for others. I know you were in contact with the Corsican.

I didn’t say that! I don’t believe that! And I don’t even know anyone from Corsica! Briel, please…you have to trust me! It’s the code!

And his last words sealed her decision. “The code…” Even Briel didn’t know the code; how could Nick? Unless he and Jase had colluded together enough to learn each other’s rituals.

With her heart hammering in her chest, Briel forced breath in and out of her lungs. Hurt and anger warred with her own guilt that seemed to justify a betrayal. It’s fine, Nick. Thanks for the money, but it can’t buy my trust. The one thing I can’t do is trust anyone – especially trust anything you say at this point. Don’t worry, though – I’m going to take out Bill Henry.

Briel – he started, but Briel shut off the phone.

It was time. No more. No more talking or waiting. She had a destination, and she would move fast enough to evade anyone after her. She jumped up, almost running out the door and onto the street. Keeping her pace, she sped across the city square toward the bus stop where she would continue her journey away from Nick and her wishful thinking.