Chapter 4
I happened to be in London the year after my encounter with Bart Freeman, and since I was at loose ends until my contact got in touch with me, I decided to call Bart.
“Alu?” The greeting was Moroccan, and the voice was warm and husky and very female. I had no doubt it was Folana Fournaise, although I’d never had the opportunity to hear her speak.
“Is Bart at home?” I bit back a laugh. I’d almost asked if he could come out and play.
“Who’s calling, please?”
“It’s Jefferson—” I caught myself just in time. “—Blackburn.”
“Ah.” She sounded amused.
“Something funny about my name?”
“Not in the least. I’ll put Bart on the line.” Her voice became muffled. “Call for you, Trouble.”
Trouble? I swallowed a laugh. It seemed a suitable nickname for Bart.
“Who is it?” Apparently she di
