Twin Powers

By David Pereda

While vacationing with her mother in Havana, a ten-year-old American girl is taken by members of a child sex ring intent on selling her into forced prostitution. When the human traffickers avoid capture and escape the island, the father of the girl, surgeon Raymond Peters, decides to take matters into his own hands and initiates a worldwide investigation. The Cuban government assigns a lethal professional assassin named Marcela to help Raymond track down the culprits. The search for Stephanie takes the unlikely pair—a man who has taken an oath to save lives and a woman who kills for a living—to the Middle East in the hunt for the mysterious mastermind, Mohamed. Working against the clock, Raymond and Marcela must pull out all the stops to save Stephanie and flee Dubai before Mohamed and his thugs kill them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Second Wind Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Mar 2, 2015

Book preview

Chapter One

A Park in Havana, Cuba

Spring 2014

You want a lollypop, little girl? the man in the robe and headdress asked in accented English, startling Stephanie. He had a grumbling voice, like a truck going up a hill in low gear. He was huge. Stephanie had been so caught up in the unfolding drama between the lady bug and the spider she hadn’t seen him approach. Dressed all in white, the man stood out in the festival crowd wearing shorts and t-shirts like a hippo on a ski slope. A friendly Arab tourist, Stephanie thought. She decided to be careful, anyway. Her mother had warned her about sexual predators before leaving with Stephanie’s twin sister, Sophia, to browse around the starving artists show on the other side of the park.

Don’t talk to anyone, had been her mother‘s parting words. And don’t accept candy from strangers!

No, thank you, Stephanie answered, and turned her attention back to the captivating scene.

Here! The man insisted, waving a hand in front of her face and obstructing her view. Take it, little girl!

This was the second time the man had called her a little girl. Stephanie hated to be called a little girl, especially by a stranger on the street. She was ten years old already, a big girl! She scowled at the intruder. Who are you, creep? First you barge in on me, and then you insult me.

No, Stephanie said, a hard edge on her words now. Didn’t you hear me the first time?

The man shrugged as if he didn’t care and pocketed the candy. Stephanie stepped to one side in an effort to have a better view. Again, she focused on the awesome scene she’d been watching in the azalea shrub before the man showed up: a spider trying to catch a lady bug. The stranger moved closer, and his body odor wafted after him-a pungent mixture of rancid sweat and poor hygiene. Phew!

She wrinkled her nose. The man stood next to her, not talking. Stephanie did her best to ignore him.

She watched the spider expand its web till the outer strands were nearly touching the lady bug. Unaware of the danger, the beetle was busily extracting the sweet nectar off a bright red azalea. Stephanie’s heartbeat quickened. She had a camera inside the tote bag hanging from her shoulder, and she was tempted to snap a quick photo to capture the moment, but decided against it. She didn’t want to risk scaring the lady bug away.

Stephanie exhaled slowly and tried to memorize every detail of the scene. The lady bug had the typical orange-red oval body with black dots and a curious ebony head. It was a fine specimen, larger than most. The spider’s color was nearly indistinguishable from the deep-green of the azalea leaves.

That nasty spider is going to eat the pretty insect, the man whispered into Stephanie’s ear. She’s mean, that spider.

Stephanie had forgotten about the man. He had bad breath, too. She felt like screaming at him now for being so ignorant. Her sister Sophia had a special name for grown-ups like the man with the weird headdress, People who live in La-La Land.

"That nasty spider is a garden orb-weaver! She wanted to yell. And the pretty insect is a lady bug!"

Stephanie liked to read anything she could get her hands on about insects and bugs. Her dislike of the man grew with his ignorance. Besides, the man had been treating her like a dumb little girl, which infuriated her even more. Stephanie gave him a closer look. He was brown-skinned and had a black goatee sprinkled with silver. She remembered him now. He had been standing under a tree by the crowded sidewalk when they arrived at the park.

Where’s your mama, little girl?

I’m not a little girl, Stephanie said. I’m a big girl.

The man gave her a broad smile. How old are you?

None of your business.

The man’s smile vanished. Stephanie held her breath as the orb weaver’s web expanded closer still to the lady bug.

Yes, you’re a big girl. When is mama coming back?

Any moment now.

Where is her?

She, Stephanie corrected the grammar in her mind and emphasized the word when she answered. "She is shopping with my sister."

Where?

Without looking at the man, Stephanie pointed to the center of the park where the starving artists’ art show was being held. It was so crammed with onlookers that it was impossible to see the tents protecting the artists, and their art, from the harsh sun.

Your mama left you all alone?

She’ll be right back. Stephanie gave a small shrug and pointed with her chin to the spider and the lady bug. I prefer insects to art.

You’re an odd girl. The man’s eyes darted to the park and then back to Stephanie. Smart.

The man gave her a crooked smile that flashed a couple of gold teeth, extracted a cell phone from his clothes and punched a number. Stephanie turned her head away. She heard the man squawk something into the phone and then snap it shut. Stephanie flinched at the sound.

A moment or two later a white van turned the corner and rocketed down the narrow street, scattering passers-by and distracting Stephanie. The street was packed with people, and the van was moving too fast. A shrill woman’s voice screamed "idiot!" and a man’s voice bellowed "watch it!" The driver ignored them, leaning on the horn. He brought the van to a full stop with a screeching of brakes two yards away from Stephanie, raced to the back and flung open both doors. He was a thin man with a beard and a headdress like those of the man standing next to her.

Stephanie was momentarily sidetracked and a warning alarm went off in her mind. But the lure of the drama between the orb weaver spider and the lady bug was too powerful. Her attention returned to the spider just in time to see a strand touch the beetle. She drew in short, shallow breaths. Stephanie knew the strand had a powerful sticky substance that wouldn’t allow the beetle to move. The poor lady bug was trapped.

Little girl! The man yelled in her ear, and Stephanie smelled his foul breath.

I’m not a little girl! Stephanie spun around.

The man’s calloused hand clamped a dirty handkerchief on her nose. In a panic now, Stephanie held her breath and tried to run away, but the man’s powerful arms lifted her off the ground and rushed her toward the open door of the van. Stephanie tried kicking at the man, but the man was holding her from behind.

Breathe, you little bitch, the man murmured in her ear. Breathe!

Stephanie struggled, shaking her head stubbornly.

Breathe! the man commanded.

Stephanie couldn’t hold it anymore. Her ears were ringing and her lungs were burning. She took a cautious, little breath. Immediately, she felt lightheaded. The strong smell of the handkerchief, like rotten alcohol, made her eyes tear. The world started whirling around her, slowly at first and then faster and faster. She took another breath, deeper this time, and her eyelids started closing.

She felt herself being thrown, like a package, inside the van. Her body bounced hard on the rough floor and rolled to a stop, but Stephanie felt no pain. She tried with all her might to get up but her arms and legs felt like limp noodles. Tiny black stars rushed at her from the edges of her vision. The last thing she saw before darkness totally enveloped her was the man with the weird headdress slamming shut the van doors.

Chapter Two

Miami, Florida

Past Midnight, Same Day

Raymond couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t had a restful sleep ever since that shocking night eight months ago when Sonia awakened him before dawn to tell him she wanted a divorce. Raymond had the date indelibly etched on his mind-February 16th. The memory of the ten words Sonia uttered with such coldness then made Raymond feel an unbearable pain in his chest now, like a giant hand squeezing his heart. He could hardly breathe.

I don’t love you anymore, she said. I want a divorce.

Raymond stretched in bed, heart thumping, and flicked on the bedside lamp. He knew what time it was without looking at the glowing clock on the side table: 3 A.M. Every night he awoke at the same time, his body feverish and covered with perspiration, his heart a runaway locomotive. He tossed the crumpled covers to one side and sat up against the mahogany Louis Philippe bed board, overwhelmed by a gamut of gut-wrenching emotions-shock, disbelief, pain, guilt, anger, loss. He was emotionally drained.

What did I do wrong?

From that crushing moment-one month, three weeks and four days ago, to be exact-Raymond had turned into a travesty of a man. He had plunged into a deep depression, for the first time in his life experiencing acute feelings of despair, worthlessness and self-doubt. He had been unable to function properly as a father, a man, even a surgeon. He had cancelled all his surgeries indefinitely-or at least until the tremor in his hands disappeared. He wasn’t going to risk the lives of his patients because of his inner emotional turmoil.

Raymond padded to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. The large and silent house in Coral Gables felt so empty. Two weeks after Sonia’s announcement, she had asked his permission to take the twins to Cuba to visit friends and relatives. In a daze, Raymond had agreed.

The three of them had been gone nearly a month and Raymond felt their absence intensely. The house was devoid of life, as empty as he felt himself. He missed running into the twins playing their different games, Stephanie inspecting all the bugs and insects she could find in the garden and Sophia painting her colorful masterpieces or dancing ballet in the living room.

The phone didn’t ring anymore, except when patients telephoned with an emergency or his secretary called to make or confirm an appointment.

The ringing of the phone startled him now. A patient with another imaginary emergency. He was so grateful for the call he didn’t even check caller ID.

Dr. Peters, he growled into the phone.

Raymond, the voice started and then broke into loud sobs….

The dull ache in his stomach became a paralyzing pain. Sonia? What’s wrong?

Chapter Three

Sonia knew something terrible had happened when she spotted Stephanie’s safari-green tote bag lying on the sidewalk, the strap torn. Sophia saw it too and ran to pick it up. She clutched the bag against her chest and started sobbing.

What’s wrong? Sonia asked. Where’s your sister?

Sophia shook her head and sobbed louder. I don’t know, mommy.

The twins had a non-spoken way of communicating with each other that spooked Sonia. It was like telepathy. It was telepathy. They spent hours trying to read each other’s minds. Sonia often listened in on their games. I’m thinking of a number from 0 to 10, one would say to the other. Which one is it? That’s easy, the other twin would reply. It’s… More often than not, it would be the correct number. Once Sophia had correctly predicted, identified, called out-Sonia didn’t how to say it right-fourteen numbers in a row. It had been an amazing display of telepathic communication.

Where is she? Sonia’s voice was tight and loud. Something bad happened to her?

Sophia nodded, and Sonia felt her knees turn to jelly. What? What? She was yelling now, and she knew it, but she couldn’t control herself. Tell me.

She was…she was…I don’t know, mommy.

Two men in a van took her away, a voice with a lisp said next to her.

Sonia spun around to face a wizened old man without teeth and only a wisp of gray hair on his head.

Away? Where? Are you involved in this?"

"No, señora."

Who are you? What’s your name?

"Adolfo Martin, señora. At your service."

What do you? Do you work here?

I sell candy to tourists. She lowered his eyes as if ashamed, and Sonia noticed the small cardboard box containing an assortment of candies in his hand. Mostly I ask them to give me a dollar. I survive like that.

Two men, you say? What two men?

The man shrugged, lines deepening on his wrinkled face. "Don’t know, señora. They looked…funny."

Funny? Funny how?

They were dressed… the man fumbled for the right word and finally said, in sheets.

Like Arabs?

I guess. I don’t know what Arabs look like. They didn’t look Cuban, that’s for sure.

Sonia stared hard at the old man. Sure you’re not involved in this? What do you want? I have money. I can pay you. All I want is my daughter back.

I’m a simple street vendor, the man said. I had nothing to do with your daughter’s kidnapping. I just want to help.

Why?

The man blinked, craning his neck as if he was contemplating running away. Sonia stepped closer. A crowd had gathered on the sidewalk around them, and the old man looked visibly nervous.

Why? She repeated. Answer me! Or I’ll go to the police, and they’ll throw you in jail.

Whispers ran through the crowd.

"No, please, Señora. The man’s face had turned translucent. Don’t do that."

Talk! Sonia snapped. Tell me all you know.

There were two men, the man said, his lisp more noticeable now. One talked to the little girl and the other drove the van.

Did you get the license plate number?

No. The man paused to stare at his bare feet first and then at his gnarled hands. Everything happened too quickly.

And then what happened? Sonia prompted him. Talk!

The man jumped back. He stared at the faces in the crowd in terror. Sophia tugged at Sonia’s arm. Mommy! Mommy!

Be quiet. Sonia’s attention was riveted on the old man.

He had nothing to do with this, mommy.

What? Sonia glared at Sophia, her vision blurred. What’d you say?

This man had nothing to do with any of this.

You sure?

Sophia nodded, her eyes brimming with tears.

Sonia tried hard to control herself but couldn’t. She was like a freight train without brakes going down a steep hill. She was scared about what could have happened to Stephanie and terrified about what could happen to her. Her mind was filled with gruesome thoughts. Beautiful children like Stephanie were kidnapped by criminals in Latin America and mutilated, an arm, a leg, an eye-Sonia felt like vomiting at the thought-and then put on the street to beg for money.

Stephanie a beggar with a missing arm or an eye? Sonia wanted to scream.

It was all her fault. She was responsible for what had happened. She shouldn’t have left Stephanie behind by herself in a strange place. Stephanie had insisted, and Sonia had given in. She’d wanted to stay behind to watch those hideous bugs of hers, and Sonia had been so annoyed at her insistence that she had said okay.

Mommy, mommy. Sophia clutched her hand. Are you okay?

Sonia took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, unable to talk.

It’s okay, mommy, Sophia said. Everything’s going to be okay.

Sonia’s ears were buzzing. The crowd was growing larger and getting restless; people were talking loudly now. A towering black policeman pushed his way through the mob and glared at the old man. Sonia was in a daze. She felt as if she was about to faint.

Answer the lady, the policeman growled at the old man. What happened next?

The man who had been talking to the little girl grabbed her and threw her in the back of the van, and then the two men drove away.

Why didn’t you stop them? The policeman put a hand the size of a baseball glove on the old man’s frail shoulder.

I tried to. The old man’s lisp was so thick now that his voice was nearly unintelligible. I blocked the man’s path, but he was too strong. I’m an old man. He threw me to the ground. Then he leaned over me and gave me a message.

A message? A ray of hope entered Sonia’s brain. The kidnapper gave you a message for me?

For the mother of the little girl. Are you the mother?

I’m the mother. Sonia swallowed the lump in his throat. What’s the message?

He said to tell you that this was payback, the old man said, his voice cracking. That you would never see your daughter again.

Sonia felt as if a massive fist had punched her in the stomach and sucked all the air out of her. She hunched forward, her head whirling.

As if the voice was coming through a bale of cotton, she heard the policeman ask, Did he say anything else?

The old man bobbed his head. An eye for an eye.

An eye for an eye? The policeman frowned and gave Sonia a quick glance.

An eye for an eye? He said that? Sonia was about to faint. What does that mean?

Are you all right, lady? the policeman asked.

Sonia ignored him. The whites of the old man’s eyes grew larger with fear as she, making a superhuman effort not to lose consciousness, moved closer; and the crowd tightened around him. The policeman squeezed his shoulder harder. The old man’s eyes darted from Sonia to the policeman like a ball in a pinball machine; his mouth formed a trembling O.

You don’t know? he wheezed. He told me you would understand the message.

Sonia never heard the man’s last word. Her knees buckled, and she fainted.

Chapter Four

If Raymond had felt devastated before at Sonia’s divorce demand, he now felt shattered. Stephanie kidnapped. When things went bad, they all happened at the same time. It was as if the entire universe felt a weakness in you, like a rip in your emotional clothing, and tested you to see what stuff you were really made of. His best friend, Gaston Leblanc, always quick with a crude joke, had a saying he liked to repeat, When things suck, even dogs piss on you.

Gaston. He was a clever and resourceful person. Maybe he would have an idea. Plus he had a stake in the situation-he was Sonia’s gynecologist as well as the twin’s godfather. He needed to be informed of this new development.

Gaston had been a great support for Raymond during the Sonia situation. He and his wife Mildred had fully empathized with Raymond’s plight and had tried to maintain his spirits high, or at least not rock-bottom.

When Raymond had told him at dinner at their house shortly after Sonia and the twins had gone to Cuba that he believed Sonia had a lover, Gaston categorically defended her and attempted to dissuade him from that belief. Mildred, on the other hand, had been less definite. In her husky voice, more befitting a hard-living blues singer than the high-society housewife of a prominent Miami doctor, she had said, If it looks like coffee, smells like coffee, and tastes like coffee, then it must be coffee.

"Mildred, how can you say that to my compadre? Gaston had screamed. And about Sonia. She’s your friend."

It has nothing to do with friendship. It has to do with logic. You know I always say what I think. And that’s what I think. Women don’t leave a man without a reason. And that reason is usually another man.

And you think Sonia is having an affair, Mildred? Raymond had asked.

I don’t know if she is or if she isn’t. I’m just saying that it isn’t common for a woman to leave a man without a strong reason. As far as I know, you haven’t been abusive and you haven’t been unfaithful, have you?

Of course not.

There you have it. Draw your own conclusions.

Later, after a tense dinner, Gaston had taken Raymond outside to smoke his perennial after-dinner Cohiba cigar. Watching the stars from the porch of his multi-million dollar home in Coco Plum, he had confided to Raymond that he had been having problems with Mildred for some time.

We have tried to keep it under the radar, he had said, blowing a plume of smoke past Raymond’s head. But it’s been very difficult. I don’t know what’s wrong with her lately. She checks my pockets, sniffs my clothes, even my underwear.

Your underwear?

I guess to smell for semen, he said. She thinks I’m screwing every woman in Miami.

Raymond was thinking about that conversation as he telephoned his friend’s office. The receptionist patched him through to his secretary, and Vitali Lubyakov, one of Gaston’s partners came on the line. Gaston’s practice continued to expand and Vitali was the newest addition, a handsome specimen from Russia who looked like George Clooney with green eyes and spoke British English tinged with a slight Russian accent that made women swoon. He had been with Gaston less than a year but already had caused a positive impact on Gaston’s practice. Women patients had increased by forty percent during that time. Sonia and Raymond had invited Vitali to the house for dinner a couple of times. He was a friendly type who liked to drink Stolichnaya vodka and tell stories of his travels around the world. He kept Sonia in stitches with his anecdotes of communication problems between Russian men who only spoke a few words of Spanish married to Cuban women who didn’t speak any Russian. Coffee? Nyet. Vodka? Da. Sex? Spasibo. He had received his medical degree from Johns Hopkins with honors. Vitali had a beautiful Venezuelan wife and two teenage sons living in Caracas he went to see religiously every month.

Hi, Raymond. The big man is busy. He told me to tell you to wait a minute. How’s the family? I hear Sonia and the twins went on vacation to Cuba and left you all alone?

That’s right, Vitali. Somebody has to work.

I guess. Everything okay with you? You feeling okay? Oops, here’s Gaston. Nice chatting with you. Say hello to Sonia when you talk to her.

Will do.

What’s up, my man? Gaston liked to talk and act hip. He thought it made him feel younger. This place is chock-full of bitches today. I haven’t seen so many nice-looking pussies in a long time.

Don’t you ever get tired of it?

Of what?

Looking at pussies?

"Heavens, no! I love women’s pussies. Why do you think I became a gynecologist?"

Maybe Mildred is right.

About what?

About you playing around.

"I didn’t say fuck their pussies, my friend. I said look at them. There’s a difference. He paused and Raymond heard him clear his throat. Well, maybe she’s right. But just a little bit. Nothing like our friend Vitali, though. That man is a pussy magnet. And don’t tell her, please!"

While Gaston tried to maintain a conservative and detached personal image, Raymond knew him since prep school and he’d always been, and had always had a reputation as, a ladies man. Maybe an inch or two under six feet, with curly reddish hair, a goatee, and a sculpted body, Gaston looked more like a gym instructor than a top-notch physician. He was a fastidious dresser and had a collection of tailor-made shirts and suits and matching cufflinks. What was there not to like about Gaston? Women tripped all over him. It was the persistent rumors around Miami of Gaston’s infidelities that had raised Mildred’s suspicions.

I won’t. That’s between you and Mildred and whoever.

Raymond heard Gaston groan. Is this anything important? Otherwise we can have a drink later, and we can chat. I have three women I’m examining now, and I believe one, a gray-haired 55-year old lady married to a highly respected councilman may have the clap, which she acquired from fucking a sixteen year-old boy, friend of her grandson who—

Your goddaughter Stephanie has been kidnapped in Cuba, Raymond said. Is that important enough for you?

What? There was a long pause on the line. Raymond could hear Gaston’s heavy breathing. You’re kidding, right? It’s a very bad joke, by the way.

It’s not a joke. Stephanie was kidnapped in Havana yesterday in plain daylight.

Holy shit! Raymond heard his friend emit an extended sigh. Are Sonia and Sophia okay?

As okay as can be expected under the circumstances.

Good God! Stephanie kidnapped in Cuba? I can’t get my head around that yet. What can I do to help?

If I think of something I’ll let you know.

Come to dinner tonight. We’ll have more time to talk about it. Raymond started to give an excuse but Gaston interrupted him. ‘At 8 o’clock. No excuses."

Gaston hung up the phone. Raymond listened to the sound of the disconnected line for several moments and then hung up the phone too.

He was thoughtful for a few seconds, pondering. Is it possible that Sonia and Gaston? He rejected the idea forcefully. Impossible. Gaston is my best friend. He would never do that. Raymond had known him since elementary school. He felt guilty and ashamed at having such doubts about his friend.

Raymond checked his watch. It was 2:45. He had a patient appointment at 3. He had better hurry.

Mildred pushed the plate of fried green plantains toward Raymond with a hand decorated with brown liver spots.

I made these especially for you, she said. I know how much you like them. I thought they might make you feel better.

Thank you.

Age is a killer, Raymond thought. He remembered how young and beautiful Mildred looked when she and Gaston got married. Raymond had been Gaston’s best man at their wedding, which took place at the Ermita de la Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre, the shrine to the patron virgin of Cuba built in Coconut Grove by the bay, and had been attended by half of Miami, including the Mayor. Mildred had been one of the most sought-after Miami socialites-and a knockout in a yellow bikini. But time had a way to sabotage beauty. Thirty years, three kids, fatty Cuban food and a sweet tooth can turn the most beautiful body into an obese travesty.

In her mid-fifties now, Mildred’s once voluptuous body, which had been compared to Sophia Loren’s in her prime, was now an amorphous mass with sagging breasts and a Budda belly; and her lovely fair face had turned into a collection of crisscrossing wrinkles and pouches of different sizes located in different places-under her eyes, around her cheeks, under her chin. His friend Gaston, always quick with a quip, referred to her as my bulldog behind her back.

Much of Mildred’s conversations with Raymond lately had turned to the pros and cons of plastic surgery. Raymond would have gladly done the surgery for her for free, but Mildred was terrified of going under the knife. Several times they had scheduled the operation, only for Mildred to cancel it at the last minute. However, in an effort to look better, she tried every new fad diet on the market, from vegetarian to bananas-and-dates and everything in between. Her current diet-of-the-week consisted of vegetables and fruit only, which drove Gaston wild since he loved beef. Raymond knew that Mildred compensated for her caloric deprivation by going on frequent, and secret, chocolate-eating binges. The outcome was that instead of losing weight when dieting, Mildred continued to gain weight.

Mildred noticed Raymond’s look and blushed self-consciously.

I don’t know why I gain weight, she said, as if reading his mind, while Gaston rolled his eyes at Raymond behind her back. I don’t eat anything, just vegetables and fruit. I must have a hormonal disorder. Is that possible, Raymond?

Raymond opened his mouth to answer but Gaston didn’t let him talk.

Mildred, every time Raymond comes for a visit all you do is talk about diets. He needs to relax. He’s under a lot of pressure.

Mildred gave him a look that would have wilted a budding flower, but said nothing.

Gaston shook his head, set his empty wine glass on the table, and filled it up again from the bottle in front of him. He took a sip and smacked his lips. Nice Rioja, huh?

Very nice, an uncomfortable Raymond said.

I bought two cases of it in Logroño last year. Have you ever been to Calle Laurel in Logroño?

No.

"It’s incredible. You have to go some day. It’s a narrow cobblestone street jam-packed with mini taverns, each serving its signature tapas and unique wines. You go down the street having shrimps with garlic in one and giant mushrooms in another. Gaston formed a three-dimensional triangle with his right hand and kissed it loudly. Of course, you wash everything down with wine."

Is it a long street?

About a hundred meters.

How many places are there?

I don’t know. I never counted them. Maybe thirty or forty. Why?

I imagine you’d be roaring drunk by the time you get to the end.

He’s drunk long before that, Mildred interjected with a sharp tone of voice. Last year Gaston was semi-comatose after six taverns.

That’s not true! Gaston pounded the table. I was feeling happy, that’s all.

Yeah, yeah. Mildred slammed the platter holding the roast hard next to Gaston’s hand, who removed it quickly. You were snoring so loud back at hotel that night that I couldn’t sleep a wink.

Gaston pressed his lips into a thin, angry line.

Anyway, Mildred said pleasantly, a smile of satisfaction curling her lips at seeing Gaston’s