The possible assassination of the President of China and the possible cancellation of the Mediterranean Accords were a Big Deal. Cal was an engineer but he wasn’t a dummy. Thousands and thousands of people had worked hundreds of thousands of hours on this and billions of dollars had been spent. One billion was going to flow into his own bank account.

But that meant less to him than the fact that Anya was barely able to stand upright on her feet. He had long ago passed the point where more money meant anything to him. He had enough for ten lifetimes. What was important was the woman at his side.

Farris had brought a few guys from the Phoenix security team and they had brought a couple of Polizia di Stato officers and a few soldiers kitted out in full commando gear. The soldiers and Farris’s guys stood in a semicircle on the calle level, backs to them, weapons trained, eyes front while Cal flipped back the tarp covering the passenger part of the gondola and helped Anya out.

It hadn’t been easy not making love to her on that smelly gondola carpet. He should be given some kind of medal for his self restraint. But it was worth it because though her face was drawn, and she was a little shaky, there was color in her face again. Just a little rosiness under the skin that was pale from fatigue and pain.

If he could give her that moment’s pleasure, man it was worth it. And they’d have plenty of time for real sex. The rest of their lives, in fact.

But for the moment, there was still business to attend to.

She was putting up a brave front but her hand trembled and her jaw was clenched. Goddamn. He tried to put his arm around her but she gave a subtle shake of her head and took his arm, as if they were at some goddamned ball.

She needed his arm and leaned heavily on him, but it looked better than him half holding her up.

It flashed on him what her role had been, a woman negotiating peace in a man’s world, where everyone hated everyone else.

Never show weakness. That clearly had been drummed into her. Never show weakness, always put up a strong front.

He wanted to say that it wasn’t necessary. These were his men and Italian police officers and soldiers. No one would think less of her if she showed weakness and if they did, Cal would punch their lights out.

But she was adamant that she wanted to walk under her own steam as much as possible, head held high.

Farris walked by his side and the Phoenix men surrounded them, the Italian officers forming a looser perimeter, one taking point, one taking up the rear. The soldiers had melted into the background but Cal knew they were there.

“I want to get Anya to a safe place where she can rest. She’s been tortured.” Cal shot a glance at Farris and saw his jaw tighten.

“Fuck,” Farris said softly and Cal shook his head at him, frowning. The fuck? You didn’t say fuck in front of a fucking lady.

“Sorry.” Farris dipped his head.

“You can say fuck, whoever you are. It’s very apt. It wasn’t pleasant.” Anya was shaking but her voice was steady.

Cal indicated Farris by backhanding his chest. Not gently. “Anya, this is my head of security, Joe Farris. Joe, Anya Voronova —”

“Deputy Director of Peace and Jobs,” Farris said smoothly. He stuck his head a little forward and spoke across Cal. “Very pleased to meet you. You guys did good work on the Accords.”

“Thank you.” Anya gave a slight smile.

Cal shot him A Look.

“What?” Farris shrugged. “Unlike you, I paid attention to more than the technical issues. That’s what you pay me for, to be informed. While you were in the desert studying pipelines, these guys got down and dirty with the negotiations. So, hats off. Whoa.”

She’d stumbled. Cal put his arm around her waist and glared at Farris who’d put a hand out. Glaring at Farris was a total dick move and Cal knew it but he couldn’t help it.

No one was touching Anya but him.

Farris held his hands up. Not touching her.

Luckily Anya missed him being a fuckhead but Farris sure didn’t.

“The police are waiting for your statement, Dr. Voronova. We’re headed for the Questura, Police Headquarters, which is right —”

Cal stiffened, turning his head to Farris. “Man, let’s not do this now. Anya’s been kidnapped and tortured and I’m not going to have her be subjected —”

“Cal.” He whipped his head around to see her beautiful, aggravated face. She pushed away from him a little, removing his arm from her waist, pushing her hand into the crook of his elbow again. “This thing is bigger than the two of us and certainly bigger than any tiredness I might feel. My friend June might be in trouble, and the Accords are definitely in trouble. If they break down right on the eve of signing, the world will become even more dangerous than it already is. It would be catastrophic. There’d be a degree of distrust that would be like a powder keg just waiting to blow up.” She looked across Cal at Farris, nodding her head. “Of course we’re headed for the Questura and I am taking it as a given that security around Hu has been ramped up.”

“Absolutely. As a matter of fact, I am told that he is now in a secure location. I don’t know where and I bet there are only a few people who do know. I also know that he’ll be taken to the Doge’s Palace for the signing tomorrow under the tightest security that can be devised. Trust me, no one wants the Accords derailed.”

They turned a corner. Phoenix Security operatives — men he knew and trusted — had already been around the corner and given the all clear. There, about a hundred feet down a sizeable street for Venice, around fifteen feet across, was a little square with a building at the end of it. The building was squat and red and had QVESTVRA, in old-timey Roman script, written across the façade in big brass letters.

Sounds of revelry came from far off but the square itself was empty. It took Cal a moment to remember that it was still the night of Mardi Gras. It felt like a century had gone by.

The road and the square had been cleared of any civilians. Soldiers lined the street. Hard-eyed, submachine guns at port arms, fingers lying alongside the triggers. Those fingers would be inside the trigger guards at the faintest sound of danger.

Cal glanced at Anya and she had on her grim effort face, the one she’d had when she aced her philology test though she’d studied through the flu and a temperature of 101°. There’d been no talking her out of it then, and he sighed to himself as he realized there was no talking her out of this now.

So — he was going to help her.

“Come on honey,” he said as they approached the steps up to the narrow glass doors of the entrance.

She gave him a sideways glance. “You’re not going to try to talk me out of it?”

“Would it do any good? Me trying to talk you out of this?”

“Nope.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, then.” And stretched out a hand, After you. They couldn’t go through together, it wasn’t wide enough. But right past the doors, he took her arm.

The Italian security detail remained outside the glass doors, but Farris and the Phoenix operators came through. Inside the marble-lined lobby there was a man waiting for them in a gray suit, with gray hair and gray eyes and an unmistakable aura of power. Institutional power.

Cal was familiar with the type. He’d dealt mainly with Energy and Infrastructure Ministers but he’d also dealt with his share of top cops. The desalination plants were destiny-changers in many countries and their security was a top priority.

The man sized them all up in one cool glance, instantly separating the security forces, including Farris, from Anya and him. Then, in a microsecond, figuring out who was most important, discarding him, and zooming in on Anya.

Impressive.

He walked toward Anya, not waiting for her to come to him. “Doctor Voronova, a pleasure. I am Vincenzo Ambrosini, the Questore of Venice.” He offered a hand that was callused, very odd in a man who was wearing a suit worth a couple thousand bucks. “I understand you are Deputy Director of Peace and Jobs. Your NGO has done excellent work.”

Anya straightened, visibly trying not to sway.

“Dr. Ambrosini,” she said. She tightened her left hand on Cal’s arm while extending her right hand.

Nothing escaped the chief of police’s notice. He stepped back and swept his hand toward a marble-floored hallway. “Please, let us sit down. I understand you had quite an ordeal. Let me lead the way.”

Farris came with them as they trooped down the corridor to the big wooden door at the end of the hallway. The Questore opened the door and ushered them in. Several very comfortable looking chairs were arranged in a semicircle around a big, elaborately-carved keyhole desk.

“Please,” he said, indicating the chairs. “I’ll order us some coffee. Four espressos?”

Cal had pushed two of the chairs together so they were touching, helped Anya sit down, then sat down himself. Anya smiled. “I’d love some tea, if I may.”

The Questore looked utterly blank. As if the concept of tea were foreign. Manners, however, won out. “Of course. I’m sure we have a tea bag somewhere.” He stuck his head out of the door, gave an order in liquid Italian, then closed it and sat behind his desk, steepling his fingers.

“Dr. Voronova, I understand full well how exhausted you are, but —”

“This is a time-sensitive issue, Dr. Ambrosini,” Anya said, her voice a little firmer. “My exhaustion has nothing to do with it. Lives hang in the balance, not to mention the fact that the Accords are at stake.”

The Questore’s grey eyes turned stony. “The Accords. Losing the Accords would be a tragedy.”

“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes until only a dot of glowing pale blue showed. “That’s not going to happen.”

“No, Doctor,” he replied, “that’s not going to happen. It would be a disaster, possibly ending in war. Excuse me.” He rose at the soft knock at the door.

A uniformed officer walked in carrying a tray with three espressos and a cappuccino cup with a white paper square on a string coming out of it. Her tea. The water wasn’t hot and the tea bag was turning it a pale yellow color like piss. Cal was really glad he’d gone for the espresso.

The Questore sat back behind his desk. “First of all, I’d like you to know that the President of China is now in a secure place under armed guard. So, Dr. Voronova, do you want to tell me what happened?”

Cal watched her carefully. She was very pale and looked stressed but other than that she was composed, voice steady. It was impossible to tell that not an hour ago she’d been tortured.

“I was at the reception this evening at Palazzo Maltese, representing Peace and Jobs since my boss had a meeting in Cairo. He’ll be arriving tomorrow —” she glanced at her watch. It was two am. “Today. The reception was a little boring and I was tired. At around 8 p.m. I went up to the second floor — first floor to you. I knew speeches would be starting around nine but I thought I’d sit and rest for a while. While there, I saw Cal.” She looked at him, gave a faint smile. “Calvin Burns. Head of Phoenix Enterprises. We knew each other in college but hadn’t seen each other for ten years.”

Her voice was cool, collected. No one could possibly know that they’d fucked like minks. Not by tone of voice or a flicker of eyes in his direction or change of color. She’d spent years on diplomatic missions and it showed. She was very good.

“While we were talking, catching up on old times, we both received text messages at the same time. It had been prearranged that texts would be sent out to the main parties when it was time for the family photo.”

Cal knew — because he’d been told — that the family photo at big events frequented by politicians was a photo of all the participants and it was that photo that went into the history books.

Frankly, Cal didn’t give a shit about the history books.

The Questore looked at him, head cocked. Was he supposed to say something? “Our phones got mixed up.”

Anya smoothly glided over how their phones got mixed up. “The lights went out. That was when several men broke into the room where we were talking. It was a blur. I could hear the sounds of fighting. Cal brought down two of the men, then they sprayed him with a gas. It smelled like chloroform. I could see that he was down when they switched on the flashlight function of their cells. They forced me to wear one of those Venetian porcelain masks but with no eyeholes and no nose holes for breathing. When I hesitated to put it on, one of the men punched me in the stomach, then stuck a gun in my side. They made it clear that if I called for help they’d shoot.”

They’d punched her in the stomach? What the hell? That was the first he’d heard of it. Of course he’d been lying unconscious on the floor.

“What?” Cal had been completely thrown by the image of Anya doubled over from a punch in the stomach. He wished he could go back and break the rest of their bones. His head buzzed with rage.

“How many men?” the Questore asked him. Cal realized he was asking for the second time. He had to shake his head to come back into the moment.

“Four or five, I’d say. Remember it was dark. I fought two of them off.”

“Mr. Burns has a black belt in judo and is a fourth dan,” Farris said helpfully.

“A knowledge of martial arts isn’t much of a help when you’re being chloroformed,” Cal said.

“Indeed not.” Mr. Ambrosini’s mouth tightened. “Then what happened?” He addressed Anya.

“I wasn’t chloroformed but I was incapacitated. I could barely breath, because of the punch and because the mask was so tight. I thought for a moment I was going to suffocate, until I learned that if I breathed in a shallow manner, I would be okay. Then I realized they were taking me somewhere. If they wanted me somewhere else that meant they didn’t want me dead. Not right away, anyway.”

“This wasn’t the first time you’d been kidnapped,” Ambrosini said.

“No.” Anya shuddered. “It isn’t.”

Cal turned his head and looked at her. It felt like his chest was going to explode, his eyeballs burst out of his head. His Anya had been kidnapped before?

When? Who?

The fuck?

She didn’t pick up on the violent emotions running through him. A slender shoulder rose and fell on a shrug. “In the fall of 2019. I was kidnapped by a breakaway faction of Hamas who didn’t want any part of the peace negotiations. Luckily, I was ransomed immediately. I just hoped that this group — whoever it was — was as greedy as that other group.”

Her voice turned hoarse. “I was so worried about Cal, though I could see he was breathing before they put the mask on me.”

“What language were they speaking?”

“Chinese. Mandarin. And they spoke like soldiers, using military terminology. But the man who held a gun to my side spoke English to me. And there had been another man, who entered the room briefly. In costume. He sounded American. But the others were Chinese.”

“You speak Chinese.” It wasn’t a question.

She dipped her head. “I do. Both Mandarin and Cantonese and I’ve spent enough time in China to be able to understand a number of dialects. But these men didn’t speak any dialect nor did they speak with a regional accent. Like I said, they talked like soldiers. Even if they weren’t active-duty soldiers, they’d had military training. They came prepared to kidnap me.” She shot Cal a Look. “Settle down.”

He’d half risen from his seat, unable to control himself. He felt Farris’s heavy hand on his shoulder and subsided. Ashamed of himself.

Sort of.

Mr. Ambrosini looked from Anya to him and back. Whatever he was thinking, nothing showed on his face. “What did they want from you?”

Anya sighed. “Well, that’s the thing. Nothing I could give them. They wanted to know when was the last time I spoke with June Chen.”

“The journalist?” Mr. Ambrosini cocked his head. Cal was really impressed. He’d never heard of June Chen until an hour ago.

“Yes. They questioned me over and over about the last time I spoke with her. The last time I spoke with June was in Istanbul at the Decision Makers Conference last November. And it was an informal meeting between friends.”

“They didn’t believe you?”

“They didn’t. The man questioning me was insistent that a conversation between the two of us had been overheard at noon today. Yesterday, actually. He kept saying that June had spoken to me. I think they realized then that she’d called me and maybe left a message. So they wanted me to access my messages on my cell.”

“But it wasn’t her cell, it was mine,” Cal said.

Anya nodded. “We had identical cells and I’d put his in my purse by mistake.”

Cal was watching Anya carefully and again marveled at her ability to present a façade that gave nothing away. She was a born diplomat.

“When I saw it wasn’t mine and that it was password protected, I knew I had to stall. I couldn’t give them what they wanted and I was afraid —” her voice caught on the word, the first sign of emotion she’d shown. Her long, pale throat bobbed as she swallowed. When she spoke she was again in complete control. “I was afraid that if they discovered I couldn’t give them any information, they’d kill me. And then go after Cal. So I — resisted, I guess you’d say.”

“They fucking tortured her,” Cal said heatedly. Unlike her he couldn’t keep emotion out of his voice. They’d tortured Anya and if he could go back and kill them all slowly and painfully, he’d do it. “They can’t get away with it.”

“They surely won’t, Dr. Burns,” Ambrosini said, tone cold. “We do not allow that here in Venice.”

“The man who — who interrogated me used a stun gun. Something like a cattle prod, which delivered an electric shock when it touched skin. It — it felt very powerful. I think —” she cleared her throat. “I think if they’d continued long enough, my heart would have given out.”

“Meaning kill you,” Ambrosini said.

“Yes.” Anya looked at Cal then away again. He knew what his face looked like. He looked like death and he was. Coming for the fuckers who’d tortured her. “Yes. It was a waiting game. How long I could hold out. How much patience they had. Their timeline seemed to be tight. I knew I had to hold out until Cal could come.”

She held out her hand and he took it, brought her hand to his mouth. Didn’t care who saw it.

Ambrosini switched his attention to Cal. It was like coming under a spotlight. Not a particularly pleasant sensation.

“So, Dr. Burns. You saved her. How did you find her?”

Cal didn’t mention the beads. “It was my cell she took with her. A company cell. We have an app on all our phones so we can be tracked when we’re in the field. We are used to working in uncharted desert environments and dangerous urban environments. The app tracks in real time and to an accuracy of one meter. I followed the app to a warehouse. Where I found four men guarding an abandoned building that looked like a warehouse and one man interrogating Dr. Voronova …”

He stopped, throat constricted, unable to continue.

Anya squeezed his arm, and picked up the story. She’d always been able to read him. “Cal arrived just in time. I don’t know how much longer I’d have been able to hold out. He managed to incapacitate the men and get me out. We hid in a gondola at one of the stazioni until his men and some of your officers came to get us. In the meantime, I was able to check my phone to see what they were trying to get from me. I found a message from June Chen. They must have overheard her leaving it for me. I think she’s in Athens at the moment. June found out there was going to be an attempt on the life of the President of China here in Venice, before the signing of the —”

Everyone’s phone went off, buzzing and pulsing and ringing. Every single one.

Cal checked his screen. PRESIDENT OF CHINA SAFE. Sent by one of Farris’s men. He met Farris’s eyes.

Mr. Ambrosini reached out and clicked on the keyboard of the giant monitor on his desk. He turned it around so they could see. It was a channel called RAI NEWS, RAI being the state channel of Italy.

A red chyron was scrolling across the bottom of the screen. SVENTATO ATTENTATO ALLA VITA DEL PRESIDENTE DELLA CINA.

Anya turned to him. “An attack on the life of the President of China has just been thwarted.”

He smiled at her. “Italian, too?”

She shrugged. She was a genius with languages, his princess.

Ambrosini was shifting his attention between the screen and his phone. He was the chief law enforcement officer in the city, his phone was telling him more than the state broadcasting company was telling them.

He read off his phone. “Three men were arrested outside the hotel suite where President Hu was staying. His bodyguards had been incapacitated and the video cameras switched off. But thanks to the extra security added at the last minute —” He looked up from his phone screen and gave a grateful nod to Cal, Anya and Farris, “President Hu is in a safe location and has stated that he will be at the signing ceremony.”

Cal leaned forward. “I have reason to believe that an American was involved, probably for money. His name is Ashley Morris. He was CIA, might not be at the moment. But he was neck-deep in it.”

“How do you know, Dr. Burns?” Ambrosini asked. “Are you certain? Accusing the CIA of what would be treason is a serious business.”

“I’m not accusing the CIA, I’m accusing one operative and whoever was working with him.”

Cal pulled out the tiny tracker he’d found in his jacket pocket, placed it on the highly polished surface of Ambrosini’s desk. “Tracker. Found it in my pocket. Ash placed it there. He was at the reception looking for Dr. Voronova. All he had to identify her with was a copy of her Peace and Jobs badge photograph. He said that he had facial recognition software in his cell, but it was a masked ball. If Anya — Dr. Voronova — was wearing a mask it couldn’t work. So he saw me and asked if I could find Anya for him. He knew we were friends in college. And he must have put the tracker in my pocket then. So the kidnapers knew exactly where to find her.”

Mr. Ambrosini turned the tracker over with the tip of a pencil. “Too small to take fingerprints.”

“Yeah.” Cal leaned forward. “But I’d be willing to testify in any court in the world that he was the one who slipped it into my pocket.”

Though Cal hadn’t seen it, he’d cheerfully perjure himself if it could be one brick in the wall that incarcerated Ash Morris.

It still burned that he’d been an instrument of the bad guys finding Anya. If he hadn’t been blasted by the idea of seeing her after ten years, he’d have figured it out sooner. And then seeing Anya — every thought in his head had just disappeared, like fog in the wind.

Ambrosini was taking notes in a notebook.

Anya’s eyes closed and didn’t open again. She was slumping up against him. Well, she’d saved the Mediterranean Accords, changed the course of history. She deserved to rest. Cal rose.

“Mr. Ambrosini, if there are no further questions, I’m taking Dr. Voronova to the closest medical facility and then making sure she rests.”

Anya came to with a start. “Oh! No! Cal, I’m fine.”

He deliberately looked her up and down, not in a lover-like gaze but assessing her. She looked exhausted, completely drained. “You’re not fine. You’ve been manhandled and punched and terrorized and tortured. A doctor should look at you.”

She shook her head and to his alarm, That Look he recognized came over that beautiful face. It was the look of when she could not be swayed.

“I don’t want a doctor, I don’t want a medical center, I want a shower and a bed and I want to be there for the ceremony tomorrow. Peace and Jobs has worked tirelessly for this and I will be there.”

Fuck. When she decided something, that was it. He knew that. Cal gave up, but not with grace.

“Where is your hotel, Doctor?” Ambrosini asked Anya.

“Hotel del Sole. Along the Riva degli Schiavoni.”

“We have a vaporetto waiting outside, behind the Questura. My men will escort you and provide security until all the members of the conspiracy are arrested.”

She nodded and turned to Cal. She reached out and curled her hand around his forearm. He put his hand on hers. Her hand was trembling.

“Help me, Cal.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She was at the end of her rope. She didn’t want medical attention, she wanted him.

Well, she had him.

“I need to be there at the ceremony. I must. My boss, Larry Silver, will be there for the gala, but he won’t be there in time for the signing ceremony. I must be there tomorrow. So many people have worked so very hard. I can’t let them down. If you’re with me, I can rest and feel safe.”

Oh yeah. He’d be with her.

He nodded.

Ambrosini accompanied them to the door. He lifted Anya’s hand and bowed over it. “Dr. Voronova we owe you an enormous debt of gratitude. Without your quick intervention, we could be facing a tragedy and an international crisis. We owe you an undying debt of gratitude.”

She studied his face. “Find my friend, please. Make sure she is safe.”

Cal gently took her phone and held it up to Farris and Ambrosini. “Here’s her number, this is what she looks like. Farris, I’m sending you the recording. The woman saved the Accords, let’s find her and keep her safe.” Farris and Ambrosini were taking note of her number and the recording. He took Anya’s arm. “In the meantime, I am taking my woman to her hotel and making sure she sleeps soundly and makes it to the signing ceremony tomorrow.” He looked everyone in the eye. “Any objections?”

“We’ll stake out the Hotel del Sole, boss. The two of you can sleep easy tonight.”

“And my men will form a further security perimeter,” Ambrosini said.

Cal nodded. He had no intention of sleeping, but he had every intention of making sure Anya slept.

She was his now, once again, and he was going to take really good care of her. By some miracle, they’d been given a second chance and he was going to grab that with both hands.