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Once free, Seichan risked making a play for the briefcase.

As she stared at her collar now, Renny’s early question played in her head: Could Claude still be trusted?

The answer came a moment later.

The green light on her collar flashed to red as it received a transmitted signal, but with the shocking mechanism neutralized, there was no danger.

At least, not for her.

Distantly, a tremendous blast echoed across the city. She searched in the direction of the departed sedan and watched an oily tendril of smoke curl into the bright blue sky.

In the end, it seemed that Claude could not be trusted. Apparently, despite his claims otherwise, it was too dangerous to let her live, and he had transmitted the kill order to the collars.

A bad move.

She had given Claude the chance to do the right thing.

He hadn’t taken it.

She pictured the scarf securing Gabriel’s ball gag.

Hidden beneath the cashmere and snapped snugly around the young man’s mouth and head was Renny’s missing electronic collar. The ball gag was formed out of a molded wad of C4, retrieved from one of the explosive charges in the catacombs. The collar had been wired into a detonator. If and when the electronic collar was jolted, it would set off the C4. She had calculated the quantity and shaped the explosive to take out the sedan and its occupants with little collateral damage.

She sighed, feeling a twinge of regret.

It was a nice car.

Renny gaped at the smoke signal in the sky, stunned, one hand clutching his throat. He finally tore his eyes away and faced her. "What now?" She dumped the collar into a curbside trash bin and hefted up the briefcase. She remembered Claude Beaupre’s last words to her. What you do with this information-where it will lead-will be very dangerous territory to tread.

As she turned away, she answered Renny’s question.

What now?

"Now comes the hard part."

At the end of my full-length novels, I love to spell out what’s real and what’s fiction in my stories. I thought I’d do the same here. • The Ritz Paris. I’ve never been there, but the details are as accurate as I could make them: from the Hemingway Bar (where the Bloody Mary was invented) to the goldplated swan faucets in the bathroom. • The Order of the Solar Temple. This is a real apocalyptic cult started in 1984 by Luc Jouret and Joseph Di Mambro. It was originally titled l’Ordre International Chevaleresque de Tradition Solaire and eventually simplified to l’Ordre du Temple Solaire. The group was notorious for its mass suicides and human sacrifice, including the murder of a founder’s infant son in Quebec. • The Paris Catacombs. Every detail about the place is true. They spread for 180 miles in a network of tunnels and rooms beneath the City of Lights, mostly throughout the southern arrondissements (districts) that make up the Left Bank of the city. The history of collapses and instability is all real, as are the details of the cat-and-mouse game waged between the cataphiles and cataflics. And, yes, the catacombs are full of disarticulated skeletons that date back a thousand years. And lots of strange things happen down there: from mushroom growing to chambers full of elaborate wall art. New entrances, tunnels, and rooms to this subterranean world are continually being discovered by explorers. Even the story of the mysterious movie theater found underground is true. • The Peugeot 508. Yes, that is how you open the trunk: by pressing the zero in the 508 emblem. I hated to blow it up.

So that ends this adventure, but a large one is looming ahead as this story continues in The Devil Colony (hitting bookshelves on June 21, 2011). The papers found in that hard-won briefcase will set off a chain of events that will change Sigma forever-and even alter how you view the very founding of America.