CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
“All right, listen up.” Riker’s commanding voice came through the speaker of Watson’s phone so that the five of them on the Gulfstream could hear her. Reid glanced down at his own screen as an update came through, an ID photo of a pretty young woman with fiery red hair.
“You’ve just received a photograph of a Ms. Claudette Minot,” Riker told them. “The cell signal of the number you found in Athens traced right back to her apartment in Marseille.”
Reid frowned. The young woman did not fit into their profile of the virologist, other than being a French citizen. “What does she have to do with this?”
“Ms. Minot is a former aid worker with the Service de l’Action Humanitaire, a French humanitarian organization,” Riker explained. “A few years back she signed on for a year-
