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supposed to be keeping tabs on Sorcerer, too, wasn’t he? Dixon thought. Funny, but in the wake of Hurricane Avery, he’d all but forgotten the son of a bitch whose ass he wanted to nail to the wall more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. How odd.
    “Actually, sir, there haven’t been any new developments with Sorcerer himself.”
    “Meaning?” his boss asked.
    Dixon gazed at the other man blandly. Meaning there haven’t been any new developments with Sorcerer himself, he wanted to say. Jeez, not everything in the spy business had to be cloak-and-dagger. “What I have to report is something about the woman Sorcerer’s been in contact with over the past month.”
    “Ah. Daisy Miller.”
    Dixon wasn’t surprised that his superior already knew about her. The Big Guy knew everything that went on in the organization. And anything that involved Sorcerer shot especially quickly to the top. “That’s the one,” he said.
    “What about her?”
    Dixon took a breath and wondered where to begin. “Well, we have a name for her now. Avery Nesbitt.”
    His boss sat up stick-straight in his chair. “Nesbitt?” he asked.
    Dixon nodded, puzzled by the reaction. His boss seemed to know the name well. “Yeah…” he said.
    “Is her father Desmond Nesbitt?”
    Dixon nodded, too surprised to speak.
    “Of the East Hampton Nesbitts?”
    “Well, yeah, she grew up in East Hampton,” he said. “But the family has a half dozen other residences, too, all over the world.”
    His boss nodded. “I know. I know the family.”
    This time Dixon was the one to narrow his eyes. “You know Avery Nesbitt?”
    “Not so much her as her father. But yes, I’ve met her. Years ago. She couldn’t have even been in high school then. Scrawny kid. Long black hair. Big glasses.”
    It was an apt description for her now, Dixon thought, except for the size of the glasses, which were fashionably smaller. Well, sort of fashionably smaller. Okay, just smaller.
    “You’re sure Daisy Miller is Avery Nesbitt?” his boss asked.
    “Positive.”
    The other man nodded again. “Tell me what else you have on her.”
    “Gee, sir, you may know more than I do, if you know the family.”
    The other man shook his head. “No, as I said, it’s been years since I’ve had any contact with them. Desmond and I were in the same college fraternity. I hear about him occasionally through mutual acquaintances. And of course, everyone heard about that business with—” Again he halted before finishing. “Well, tell me what you’ve got.”
    Dixon nodded. “Okay. I’ll just hit on the highlights for now and give you my full report at the end of the day. Twenty-nine years old, never married, no kids. Born and raised in East Hampton, New York. Parents Desmond and Felicia Nesbitt. Youngest of three children—she has an older brother and an older sister. Educated at the finest schools money could buy, traveled extensively as a child and teenager. Was accepted to Wellesley College and declared a major in computer science. Attended for two and a half years, but her education was interrupted.”
    “Right,” his boss said.
    But the way he said it made Dixon think the guy already knew what had interrupted young Avery’s studies. Then again, once Dixon had made the connection, he had remembered the incident himself.
    “She was always an exceptional student,” he continued, “gifted in both mathematics and language arts. Scored a perfect twenty-four hundred on her SAT, a perfect thirty-six on her ACT. Fluent in French, Spanish and German by the time she graduated high school. Mastered anything computer-related with little effort from an early age. Won a national award when she was fourteen for designing an e-mail program that was then purchased and produced by a company named CompuPax. A few minor behavioral problems in school, but nothing you wouldn’t expect from any other exceptionally gifted kid. No black marks on her permanent record. From all