Page 59 of Dagger’s Shield

“That isn’t all. As soon as it’s dark, my father dresses up as Père Noël—Father Christmas—and distributes gifts to all the children.”

“Only for the children?” I asked.

“Their parents are given bonuses earlier in December.”

I couldn’t picture it, but it would be fun to see Bertrand dressed up and handing out gifts.

“By ten or so, the workers leave for their own family celebrations. After that, we go to the midnight mass in the village. When we return home, our réveillon begins. Marthe serves the first course, then she sits with us. It’s the only night of the year when she’ll accept a place at the table.”

“So, there’s more eating?”

“Of course!” She laughed. “There are oysters, foie gras, escargots, and roast capon. Dessert is la bûche de Noël, the yule log cake. We eat until three and sleep until noon.”

“It sounds brilliant. I can’t wait. Truly.”

“Thank you, Killian,” she whispered. More and more, she used my given name instead of my code name, and I loved it.

“It’s me who should be thanking you, Maëlle.”

“You’re welcome.” She turned in my arms, facing away from me, and I wrapped my arm around her like I had earlier.

“Bonne nuit,” she said, as if a wall other than the pillow hadn’t come down.

I lay in the dark, grinning like an idiot. There was no intimacy, and there wouldn’t be, yet it was already the best night I’d spent here.

The next afternoon, we left Valais ahead of the others. We’d told everyone we had presents to buy for each other, which was true. The part we didn’t mention was the briefing we had scheduled with the team at Onteora.

Maëlle drove, taking the curves above the village without touching the brakes.

We were almost there when my mobile rang with a call from Blackjack.

“You’re on with me, Beacon, Hornet, and Delfino,” he said. “I got your message. Go ahead.”

Maëlle told them what we’d found, that while the domaine’s other distributors paid the typical discount of sixty percent of retail, Fontenay paid eighty. “We believe my father is laundering money through the estate,” she said. “We can’t prove it yet. Until we find how the money goes back out, all we have is a customer who overpays.”

“Hornet, what have you found on Fontenay?” Blackjack asked.

“The ownership’s hidden, which, as you already know, Swiss law allows,” he responded. “There are other ways to get it, but I’ll need more time. Give me until after the holidays.”

“Which brings up my next point,” said Beacon. “We’re on official leave until after the beginning of the year. That includes the two of you. If you want to keep digging, that’s up to you. If you don’t, that’s okay too.”

“Enjoy the holidays,” said Blackjack. “We’ll talk on the second of January.”

The call ended, but Maëlle didn’t say anything more until we arrived in Dijon and parked the car. “Are you going to ask if I’m all right?”

“I hadn’t planned on it. However, I was going to ask what I should get for Marthe.”

She laughed even though I could tell she was trying not to. “You’re buying a gift for Marthe?”

“I’m buying a gift for everyone. That’s the custom, isn’t it? Now, answer the question, and bear in mind my life may depend on it.”

“Wool socks. Gray, like her dresses. Nothing bright, nothing expensive. If it costs too much, she’ll return it.”

“Understood. And your father?”

Her smile faded, but only for a second. “Papa is easy. Choose anything, so long as you tell him it reminded you of him.”

We had two hours before the family arrived and one rule between us—nothing either of us bought could be seen by the other. She headed one way, and I went the other.