Tugging out her cell phone, she dialed Roux's number. Henshaw hooked her up within thirty seconds.

"Miss me so quickly, then, my dear?" Roux asked.

"You still have that hair strand you pulled from the sword?"

"I haven't returned to it since you left. I'm sure it's still there. Do you need it?"

"I don't know. I've discovered a new player in this game. They're called BHDC, which stands for BioHistorical Design Corporation."

"Means nothing to me."

"They do therapeutic cloning. With DNA samples-like a hair strand-they can then create new organs for transplant. Although it's clear that it is not legal in France. Thought I'd run it by you."

"DNA from a hair strand? Still sounds incredible to me, though I will not deny having heard it on the news stations from time to time. I'm sorry, Annja, what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know."

Yes, what could a five-hundred-year-old soldier provide in way of a complicated topic as cloning?

D'Artagnan and I looked over the map.

Incredible.

"Keep your ears open for me?" she asked.

"Will do."

"Annja!"

A thump on the roof of her car startled Annja. She hadn't seen him coming from the right and behind. "Thanks, Roux, gotta go."

She snapped the phone shut and rose out from the car.

Ascher was looking his usual suave, handsome self. Blue jeans and a gray T-shirt emphasized his athletic build. Sneakers for running. The physicality of him made it impossible to look away. He was all muscles and c.o.c.ky smile. Standing still was out of the question; he either shuffled his weight from foot to foot or paced a few steps before her. Always ready. A bit like an eager puppy.

But trust had been lost.

Ascher grinned his roguish smirk and came around the hood with arms spread as if to hug her. She sidestepped him. His smile fell.

"You bring the rapier?" he asked.

"You bring the map?"

Daring a move, Annja lunged around and grabbed the coiled roll sticking out from his back pocket.

He protested, but Annja did not listen. The feel of the slick plastic in her hands started Annja's heartbeats to a race. He did not!

"Oh, my G.o.d, you...laminated it?"

Uncoiling the roll revealed a small map-about six inches square, with a corner missing-completely laminated within a glossy plastic sheet.

"This thing was priceless, Ascher. It's..." What to say when all she felt was utter disbelief? "I can't believe you did this!"

"Would you prefer we walk about in the dark tunnels losing flake after flake like the gingerbread kids until we know not where to go?"

"Dark tunnels?"

This was the first time she'd had the opportunity to look at the map. At first glance it was merely a twist of lines. It was impossible to determine what the lines represented for there were no street names or landmarks indicated.

Sickened at the incredible damage done to this priceless artifact, Annja swallowed back a huge sigh.

"What kind of archaeologist are you to not know the value of such a thing?"

"Part-time, Annja. Archaeology is not my princ.i.p.al interest."

He had that right. Theft and destruction of property topped this treasure hunter's list. "You b.l.o.o.d.y treasure hunter!"

"I wear the epitaph with pride." He gave a c.o.c.ky rub of his knuckles against his chest. "Without treasure hunters millions would still be sitting on the seafloor. But look closely, my frantic American friend. It is a copy. I promise you I am not so ignorant to have damaged the original in such a manner."

"Copy?" Annja breathed as she really looked at the paper. It was bright white. Not aged and yellowing. A gray streak ran along one edge where the toner had dusted the copy. "Mother Mary, you scared me, Ascher."

"Just a bit of humor. I had no idea you'd believe it even for a moment. Now, do you want to help, or will you hinder?"

"Help?" Annja crossed her arms. How could the man be so cavalier after such a stupid joke? "I don't trust you, Frenchman."

"Ah, so we are the snippy American this afternoon?" he said.

"Don't even go there or you'll force me to-"

"To what? Lay me out like you did those thugs in the forest. Very impressive. I'm still wondering about that one. Come, Annja, let me see your fire."

That was exactly what he was trying to do, wasn't it? See the snippy American blow a cog and lose it. Well, she wouldn't give him the pleasure.

Zen, Annja, calm yourself. Move beyond frustration, she told herself.

"Look, I am sorry, Annja. After I-"

"Stole it?"

"It's not theft when one keeps it in the same place it was discovered, is it?"

She huffed. So her conjecture had been right. He'd had the map the whole time. "Who helped you? I followed a man into the yard. Dueled with him."

"You are very skilled with a sword. Which one did you grab from my collection? I didn't have time to look."

"That was you you I dueled with in the dark?" At the time she had thought her opponent was missing some very easy strikes. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. What a guy. I dueled with in the dark?" At the time she had thought her opponent was missing some very easy strikes. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. What a guy.

"Plans have changed, Annja. I was desperate and had to keep the map myself to ensure its safety."

"Where is it now?" she asked.

"In a security safe. No one can lay hands to it but me. Anyway, after you left with the rapier, I created a humidity tank and it unrolled nicely. It wasn't too fragile, as expected, but the idea to copy came to mind. Lamination seemed the best way to preserve the paper copy, especially for the task we are about to undertake."

"What plans have changed? The one where you dupe me out of the rapier and the map? I don't understand why you invited me here if-" She caught his lifted brow. A rogue's smirk of interest. "Oh, don't tell me you just invited me here to-That stupid wager with the Nash brothers?"

"To get to know you better, Annja. But also to share the discovery of d'Artagnan's rapier. It is as much yours as mine. Don't you feel our connection?"

"Please." She'd been lured here so the man could flirt with her? He did enough of that online. So why hadn't she at least suspected that after his initial phone call?

Because, Annja, you are easier to charm than you are to take out with bullet or blade.

It was painful to admit, but true. She was not a shrinking violet, but neither would she ever claim to know a man's mind. Or her own, for that matter.

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted to go after the treasure?" she asked. "Maybe I would have invited you along. Did you ever consider that? Why the sneakiness?"

"You invite me along? Ha! La Directrice! You see? You have already taken over this operation. I knew that would happen. Whenever a woman gets her hands into the mixture-"

"You-" Ah, h.e.l.l, he was right to make the accusation, she realized. She did have a tendency to step up and want to lead. And why not?

"You've suspected since we met online that tracking the map was my ultimate goal," Ascher said.

"Yes, but for your own gain, or someone else? BHDC doesn't care about the rapier any more than you do, right? That's why you had to steal the map. Are you going to hand it over to them, or keep it for yourself?"

The man slapped his arms across his chest. An evasive glance made Annja uncomfortable.

"You are very much like me, you know that, Annja Creed?" he said.

"I'm not a sneak, or a thief," she retorted.

"Touche. But you do like a good adventure. And a challenge." He walked around to stop her from completely turning away from him. A flock of foraging pigeons scattered behind him. "I know if I ask you to trust me you will balk. It is your right. There is nothing I can do to restore your confidence in me, so allow me to earn it."

"By telling me everything?" she asked.

"By showing you I can be honorable. I admit stealing the map was sneaky. I had intended to hand the rapier over to BHDC and wipe my hands of them, but someone decided to take it with her when she left me this morning."

"You could have said, 'Hey, Annja, I need that. My kidney is at stake.' h.e.l.l, what am I saying? Will they come after your last kidney if you don't hand over the rapier?"

"Monsieur Lambert had followed my posts online-in which, as you know, I was very careful not to mention the map-and discussed only the sword."

"A sword that contains a treasure map. Imbecile."

"Your harsh words have no effect on this adventurer's heart."

Talk about a Gascon set on serving one goal and ignoring the needs of others to the detriment of personal honor. He was going for the gusto, nothing less than valor. This man was exactly like d'Artagnan, she thought.

It was impossible to believe BHDC would merely seek a sword, when the treasure map was the more valuable. The corporation must know about the rumored map. On the other hand, if BHDC sought historical DNA, then perhaps the rapier could be deemed a prize.

Ascher gazed across the river to the opposite bank where seagulls dived for sc.r.a.ps left behind by tourists.

"They do know about the map," Annja decided. "And that still makes us a target."

"I will protect you, Annja. No one will hurt you if I am able to stand before you."

"If you are able, Mr. Missing Kidney Guy. I think I'll take my chances on my own. Professional fencing is a world apart from down-and-dirty sword fighting."

"You don't think I have what it takes to protect you?"

She could sense his guard go up. The indomitable male pride that most wore silently, until they were challenged, or forced to defend it. She'd grant him that. Admittedly, he wore it well, bold eyes and muscles flexing as they itched to display their strength. She frowned.

"So, let's take a look, oui? oui?"

Annja tugged the map from the man.

Tilting her head to the left and then the right stretched out the tension riding her neck. All right, anger dropped. Back to business.

Ascher pointed to the torn edges at the lower left corner of the map that appeared as a fine gray line on the copy. "Someone ripped off the most important part. The key or scale. There is no way to navigate without it because I cannot determine which is north, south or west."

"It wasn't you?"

"No, Annja, that piece was missing when I unrolled it."

"You sure it hadn't disintegrated decades earlier?" she asked.

"If I had the rapier, I could inspect the interior of the hilt for paper fragments, but..."

"I wish I had the original map to verify what you say is true." She examined the map closely. The edges of the missing corner were serrated and thin, showing more discoloration in shades of gray toner, similar to the three intact edges of the map. It was also more intentional than a tear, perhaps cut at a jagged edge. But why?

Ascher turned the map upon her palms, showing that no part of it was marked by a directional compa.s.s. It was impossible to tell which side was up and which was down.

"If we can determine the directions," he said, "then we can decide where the starting point must be."

"There is no mark to beginning," Annja said.

"No, but I think this here might be the X X that marks the spot. Look closely," he said. that marks the spot. Look closely," he said.

At the center of a tangle of lines was a small device, about half the size of Annja's smallest fingernail, but unmistakable in design.

"A fleur-de-lis?" she said.

"Exactly. The symbol of Paris and the royal insignia. That is where we will discover the treasure," he declared.

Annja turned the map to the right, but it didn't make any more sense. "And what, exactly, is this a map of? The streets of Paris? The turns and lengths are too short and curve too much. I know Paris's streets can be short but-"

"I believe this thick line is the Seine, but cannot be positive. It was faintly red on the original. That would make this portion the right bank if you follow the curve of the river. I'm guessing this map is the labyrinthine aqueducts beneath the city," Ascher said.

The aqueducts. Or perhaps the catacombs. A series of tunnels would match the curving lines much more than an aboveground street did.

"There are tunnels beneath the Louvre-it was the royal palace at the time this map was produced," Ascher said. "I'd guess if a queen were going to hide a treasure, she wouldn't venture too far from her comfort zone."