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her betrayal, would have made any difference. It was too late for it now, and he looked back at her, his eyes serious.
    ‘I am sorry if I mislead you, whatever you might believe, Daphne. We happened to want the same thing yesterday, and that’s what happened, nothing more and nothing less. Do I regret it now? Yes, I do. I should have behaved decently, just accompanied you to your place, and left right away. I am sorry, believe me. I truly wish you all the best for your future. I am quite sure it won’t involve me, that’s all.’
    ‘Of course not .’ Bitingly cold, her voice reached him before he pulled the door open. ‘That would be too much to be expected, Jon. Your life belongs to that damn agency. Any human emotions you might experience are tied to your work. Sometimes I wonder if you ever had any space in your heart for anything but your projects. Lying to people, manipulating people, destroying people. That seems to be your vocation, Jon. No wonder you run the moment you feel threatened by anything more human.’
    ‘I don’t destroy people, Daph.’ He was almost out now, the confrontation over. ‘I do my best to stop others from doing exactly that, as you might remember. As for lies and deception, unfortunately that’s sometimes the only way to achieve that goal. Whenever possible, I avoid lies. That’s why I am telling you how I feel, even though it would be more convenient to come up with some fairy tale to keep you happy and off my back. So think about that.’
    He wasn’t proud of himself and the way he handled the crisis. It left a bad taste in his mouth, refusing to go away even after he got back to his apartment, grabbed his bags, and changed into a fresh set of clothes, eager to remove the light lingering fragrance of Daphne’s perfume. It clung to his skin and clothes like a constant reminder of his lapse in judgment. He took a brisk shower, the ice-cold droplets washing away the remnants of last night. He’d talk to her again, once he was back, he promised himself. He’d finish it off right, if only to make it possible to remember the night without feeling like a total failure.
    He’d probably hear from Bernard, nevertheless. For a reason he couldn’t comprehend, Mariah, Bernard’s wife, had taken to Daphne in a way that put him in a truly uncomfortable position. He suspected it had to do with the version of their failed love story his ex-fiancée fed to the older woman. He didn’t even want to know what it was because he guessed that she’d stretched the truth to its last, thinnest skin.
    Once on the plane to Italy, he relax ed. He pulled out the few pages of info he had received at the last moment. The team working in Rome had dug up some still uncovered snippets of information that might prove useful. Most of it he knew by then, of course. After all, the agency had spent the last few months monitoring Pete’s every move, both in the States and in Europe. He read through the short memos, his eyebrows pulled into one dark line in concentration. A flight attendant walked up and asked him for his drink preference. He looked up, momentarily confused. He snapped out of it instantly of course. Years of training had taught him to deal with surprises and interruptions. An automatic smile appeared on his face, and the girl’s face beamed in response as she handed him a glass of red wine. She wished him a good flight and moved on, leaving him to get back to his work.
    The seat next to him was unoccupied, which was helpful. He was pretty sure he owed Bernard for that. The agency’s funds probably paid for both seats to give him some much needed privacy. He skimmed over the pages, the letters P and M standing out in numerous places. Of course most of the additional info was about Pete, giving Jon extra in depth knowledge about the man he was about to confront. Melanie Bennett featured in it as well, although far less. He had to wonder what kind of a person she really was, since facts about her