15
JAKE STOOD ON THE back of the Staten Island commuter ferry watching the sunset turn the sky orange behind the Statue of Liberty. He had wanted to see this view before he left New York, and knew he had enough time before his evening flight home.
Naomi was recovering in hospital and was enthusiastic about turning her skills to being a field agent. The Cloisters Cross had been recovered from the penthouse flat of reclusive billionaire Gilles Noiret, who had been found dead, his body rotted by poison. The Sisters of the Guardian Angel had chosen to give the corpus to the museum to be displayed on the shaft of the cross. It had been a big day, and for once Jake thought that his sleep might be without nightmares.
Wisps of cloud painted the horizon with shades of pink and burnt umber and he
