Vermeer Interrupted

Chapter 2: Under Suspicion

Paris. September 7, 2007. Friday morning.

Klaus knotted his tie in front of the mirror of their bedroom. He paused at the thought. This was their bedroom. It still felt like a dream that Chantal had given him another chance.

He turned to smile at the photo on the dresser. She wore an ivory silk suit for their second wedding. She'd never looked so beautiful. Their marriage was a grand reunion. Her parents traveled from Reims to attend, his from Frankfurt. Among the friends attending were Neal, Sara, June, Henry, and Eric. Marcel and a few others from his new office also came. They provided all the validation he needed that despite the odds being stacked against him, he was finally on track.

Today was his thirty-seventh birthday. When Chantal asked him what he'd like, he told her the baby she carried was the best gift he could possibly receive. On a Friday night, the bistro would be packed. He planned to work in the kitchen along with the other help as he did most evenings. She'd let him take over the sommelier's responsibilities. He hoped to eventually expand the wine bar.

Chantal had hired an excellent sous-chef, allowing her to have more evenings off. There was even talk of her hosting a cooking show for children similar to what Peter's wife was doing in New York. Chantal would be wonderful with kids—especially their own.

But enough of daydreams. It was time to leave for his day job. This morning, he was scheduled to meet with the security team at the Louvre. As he slipped on his jacket, he heard the door buzzer. His first thought was that Chantal had returned early from the produce markets and needed his help with bringing in supplies.

He raced down the stairs and opened the door.

"Hello, Klaus."

He stared in shock at his brother. "Rolf?" He wore a beard and his hair was gray, but there was no mistaking that voice. Ever since he heard about his escape, he knew this might happen. He'd formulated a strategy. Could he make it work?

Scima Gameworks. Thursday evening.

"Reporting for duty," Neal announced when he entered the Red Sands workroom.

He wasn't expecting much of a welcome, and he didn't get it. Richard had already warned him that the frenzy of putting together the trailer for the upcoming game had everyone working in crisis mode. Ian had imposed a deadline to finish the trailer by no later than Monday morning. That was to allow time for the footage to be reviewed, processed, and prepared for release. Up to now, Neal thought he would never experience as exhausting a process as when they prepared the Yellowface short for the sci-fi convention.

But this was worse.

The motivation was huge. Their trailer would be shown on gaming websites throughout the world on the weekend of the test launch. It had to be perfect.

He already knew he'd spend the entire weekend at Scima. The basement of the building had sleep cubicles for exhausted programmers, and he'd take advantage of them. With Sara gone, there was no need to return home.

He looked forward to the frenzy. For now, there was nothing he could do about Rolf. He wasn't overly concerned about Rolf targeting him, but Peter and Henry were. Their relief when they heard about his weekend plans was touching. For the next few days, Scima was his safe house.

As he headed for his workstation, he checked on the others. Mozzie was tweaking the script. Travis was huddled with Richard as he worked on spaceship designs. Aidan appeared to be in a world to himself as he wrote code while Keiko was demonstrating an alien fighting technique to a group of enthralled developers. Working with them were two developers Neal had gotten to know during a sting at Scima last year—Raven and Blair.