by A G Stevens
“I’m not sure what to say, Helene.” That was more direct than he’d intended. But he imagined Liam Keller was someone who’d call out a breach of professionalism such as this.
“Dawes,” Helene said without turning, “Nicholas needs you in the dining room to run through the security check points.”
“I don’t have any messages from him,” Dawes answered.
Helene looked over her shoulder. “No. You don’t. You have a message from me. And that message is that you please join my husband in the dining room so you can run through the security check points to make sure our guests have the utmost protection while they enjoy the party I’ve prepared for them.” Her tone became cold and authoritative again.
Dawes cleared his throat. “Yes, Mrs. Parrick. I’ll report to the dining room.”
He backed away and departed the treasure room, leaving Blaze alone with Helene, her hidden agenda, and her far-too-obvious advances.
“Now,” she said softly. “Where were we?”
“I...here are my notes so far,” Blaze told her, handing her the notepad and shifting the narrative. “I’ll be happy to make any amendments or additions based on your review, of course. I had no idea you were as knowledgeable about the collection as you are. I thought it was entirely your husband’s doing.”
Helene smiled. She didn’t take the notepad. “You aren’t the first person to tell me my husband’s existence has made them underestimate mine.” Suddenly, her overtly sexual nature seemed sad and sincere. “You won’t be the last, either. It’s just reality. No matter what I accomplish, he sweeps in and takes all the credit.”
“He spoke glowingly of you at the party last night,” Blaze told her.
“He throws me compliments during his presentations, sure,” Helene agreed. “But it’s all for show. None of it is sincere.”
Blaze wondered if she was seasoning her seduction with something softer, if she was detecting Liam’s reticence and trying to find a way through. Now that they were alone, it was time for him to do a little digging. “Can I point out something of a more personal nature without offending you?”
“Absolutely,” Helene said.
“It doesn’t sound like you’re very happy with him.”
She hesitated before answering, which only reinforced Blaze’s suspicions. “I’m happy with his money...with the life he affords me.” Those reinforced them even more. “But with him? I can honestly say happiness isn’t a motivation where Nicholas is concerned. Or a result of anything he does or doesn’t do.”
“Your arrangement is business, then.”
Helene nodded. “We aren’t the illusion we present to the world. And now, you’re party to that.” She gazed longingly at the veiled case that held Thunderhead, then back at Blaze with equal longing. “You’re one of the few who’ve seen behind the mask.”
Liam Keller wasn’t able to continue this line of discussion; it was too great a breach of etiquette for him. But Derek Blaze didn’t seem to have that problem. “We all find ourselves in situations that compromise our expectations, Helene,” he said. “We all do things that undermine our happiness for the sake of other interests.”
She leaned on the case, and her red-golden hair cascaded over her shoulder in a way that Blaze found incredibly distracting. “It’s a survival mechanism, isn’t it?”
Blaze had personal experience with that. “Definitely.” The more he spoke to her, the more he realized he was falling into her eyes in a way that would lead him somewhere he shouldn’t have been. You’re on assignment, he reminded himself. Every move you make is in service of the House. He remembered the communicator was live in his attaché. He hoped they were far enough away from it to be undetected, though the cameras in the room were certainly trained on the two of them. Whether or not the room had mics, he couldn’t be sure. He assumed that Helene’s open conversation meant they weren’t being listened to. Or maybe she simply didn’t care. “I assure you, I’m giving the best assessment I can possibly offer,” he asserted, protecting his cover.
“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked, nearly whispering. “Assessing me?”
His thoughts trailed off as he inhaled her intoxicating sent. “What do you mean?”
Helene stood tall again, placing her hands on her hips sensuously as she straightened her spine and tilted ever so slightly. “If we were to say that I’m a work of art in need of insuring...not a relic, certainly. Not yet, anyway. But perhaps the most precious piece in this whole collection. How would you assess me?”
Blaze exhaled roughly. Keep it steady. You’re working here.
“I don’t understa—”
“Of course you do, Liam.” Her tone suggested that, more than being a woman of otherworldly beauty, Helene Parrick was a woman of intense desire that wasn’t being fulfilled. “What would you write on your little notepad about me?”
Blaze felt the pull of her and wondered how he was going to toe the line with this one. He lowered the notepad and took purposeful notice of her. “Parrick collection, piece 1A: Helene Caron Parrick. An exquisite work.”
She turned slowly and moved away from the case as Blaze continued his assessment.
“Classic, yet entirely contemporary. Statuesque. Curves are elegant...stunning lines. Near-perfect female proportions.”
She moved further, slinking one step at a time toward a far corner of the treasure room. Blaze watched her body move, cat-like, and took slow steps following her, to keep up with her visual cues. “Keep going,” she said. “I like this.”
“Graceful, fluid movement, yet dynamic...capable of tremendous power.” He stepped closer as she moved further away. “Her form suggests deeper stirrings, a complexity only hinted at on the surface.”
Helene reached the far wall of the treasure room and disappeared behind one of the heavy curtains hanging there. Blaze followed willingly, unaware of who was doing the seducing now, and who was being seduced.
“Is that all?” Helene said softly on bated breath as she leaned back against the wall and fell into the shadow of the curtain.
Blaze exhaled roughly. “She has, as the Greeks describe, a face that could launch a thousand ships.”
Helene reached out and pulled him closer. “But she’s only interested in launching the one that stands before her,” she whispered.
Blaze’s vision traced the shape of her face, giving into the beauty that he’d worked to avoid since the moment he’d met her. “Is this how you ensure that all strangers on your island are no threat to the greater good?”
“Actually, this is the only place where my husband’s invasive cameras can’t reach.” She pulled forward and kissed him deeply, without warning. “It’s the corner of the temple where the goddess brings her subjects to consecrate the holy ground.”
“Don’t you mean ‘desecrate’?” Blaze asked her, hardly able to take his gaze from her mouth as the heat between them grew.
Helene licked her lips. “That depends on how good you are at it.”
The idea of switching the mask was suddenly the last thing on Blaze’s mind.
E I G H T
“I take it the assessment went well?” Nicholas Parrick’s tone was more confident and suggestive than questioning, as if there were a single answer he was waiting for, and anything less than that would be a betrayal.
He and Blaze were in Parrick’s private office, a room on the rooftop of the main house that overlooked the entire landscape below, like a crow’s nest on a tall ship. The image of Helene Parrick sighing and moaning passionately in the treasure room during their encounter flashed through Blaze’s mind as he answered. “It went very well, yes. From my perspective, at least.”
Parrick grinned. “I imagine our review of your listing will confirm that from mine as well.”
Blaze slid the folder with the assessment across the desktop. “I certainly hope so, Nick.”
Parrick put on a pair of reading glasses, flipped the folder open, and began reviewing.
�
�Apologies for everything being handwritten,” Blaze said. “I didn’t have access to my laptop or a printer.”
“Not to worry,” Parric told him, completely glossing over the idea of Blaze’s access to technology being entirely restricted on the island. “Once we come to a complete document, you can type it up and submit it from your home office. I trust you to do that, Liam.”
How big of you, Blaze thought. “Of course.”
He sat quietly while Parrick perused each line item and reviewed the descriptions with great focus. “I like what I see here,” Parrick said. “Very much.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“And Helene reported that you were the consummate professional when she took over for Dawes as your willing attendant in the treasure room. She was very pleased.”
You have no idea, Blaze thought, and he smiled. “Glad to hear that, too.”
“And I think I’d be even more pleased if the values in this report were increased by...oh, I don’t know...ten percent, at least. Maybe fifteen.” Parrick looked at Blaze over his blasses. “The collection is incredibly valuable to me, you understand.”
Blaze shifted a bit in his chair. “Have I made an error somewhere?”
Parrick lowered the report and folded his hands together, the posture of a business man who wasn’t about to lose out on a negotiation. “Well, not an error really. More that the valuation isn’t quite up to par.”
“My valuations were very much in line with your projected worth of the items.”
Parrick was a little more terse now. “I wonder if you know the lengths to which I’ve gone to acquire my collection, Liam. The methods I’ve employed. The extremes I’ve had to reach in order to procure every last vessel, every hanging, every carving and weaving.”
As an agent for the House, Blaze knew he wasn’t supposed to provoke his client. As a spy of unending curiosity for the dark ways in which the rich and powerful maneuvered, he was certain he needed to know what Parrick meant. “I imagine it’s been an extensive process.”
Parrick’s falsely friendly façade was all but gone now. “I’ll forgo the grisly details, because they’re nothing you need to hear about. But yes. The process has been extensive, and exhaustive. I’ve spared no expense researching the locations of these pieces, sending my representatives to all corners of the world to evaluate them, asses the authenticity and their quality, then acquire them for me and arrange for their delivery here.”
The way he phrased it—that he’d acquired them—made Blaze’s jaw clench. It smacked of foul play of one sort or another. Or many. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”
“Really?” Parrick picked up the report again. “So you think Tongue of Heaven, which was gathered from Caldaura by a hand-chosen team who bribed their way into the site where it was discovered, and which two of the team members were murdered while smuggling it out, only has a current value of nine-hundred-thousand? Even though I paid eight-hundred-thousand for it twenty years ago, not to mention the two lives lost?”
“We assess the artifact, not the acquisition process, Nick.”
“It adds to the value though, Liam. Surely you see that.”
“Even still, artifacts don’t appreciate based on two decades’ added age. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry, Liam,” Parrick said, his voice a low rumble that said he was going to come out on top one way or another. “I want you to do what’s right.”
“I feel as if I did,” Blaze insisted. “And now I feel as if my integrity is being questioned.” That was a lie, but something that Liam Keller would absolutely push back on. More than this, Blaze was terribly interested to learn what exactly Parrick had intended to happen with the appraisal.
“Not at all, friend,” Parrick said, his smile returning. “I just need you to understand how much I’ve put into this, and how much security I’d like to have knowing that if anything were to happen to any of it, it’s properly covered. I’ll be paying an incredible premium for this insurance policy, naturally. Bringing my business to Davenport-Frasier from my previous insurer. Your company will be seeing check after check after check from me.”
Great, Blaze thought. Now he’s using quid-pro-quo as leverage. He knew there were two ways to play this: he could either resist even more and preserve Liam’s character, which would certainly be perceived as authentic, and would even be expected after everything he’d revealed regarding his concern for his integrity. Or he could cave in to Parrick’s demands and inflate the figures...which would possibly clue Parrick into his willingness to bend the rules under enough pressure. Would that signal him as more of a player or as more of a weakling to this man to whom power was of ultimate importance? Was he being tested for the strength of his spine, or the weakness of it?
“I...could be persuaded,” Blaze said. “To see things your way.”
Parrick halted, blinked. Then he lay the report down again, removed his glasses, and smiled. “I knew you were a reasonable man, Liam. I just knew it! Maybe it’s the accent, but I just knew you’d be willing to make things work out properly. And not just for me, but for you as well, and for Davenport-Frasier.”
Blaze realized what he’d just done: he’d agreed to falsify an insurance policy worth hundreds of millions of dollars, for one of the largest, most well-respected insurance companies in the world, all to win sway with a man who didn’t seem willing to take no for an answer. He was halfway through the mission; the mask hadn’t been switched yet, and he hadn’t made his escape. This was playing for time, he knew. And by making the situation less complicated for himself, he’d just likely made it far more complicated for Davenport-Frasier.
Then he realized there was no insurance policy.
It doesn’t matter if you agree to what he says, Derek, he reminded himself. The whole thing is fake.
Get over yourself and get on with the mission.
“I just hope I haven’t put my job in jeopardy by doing this,” he said, trying to sell the compromise Liam Keller had just made.
“I’ll see to it that it doesn’t, Liam,” Parrick said. “I have that sort of influence.”
“I know you do, Nick. Thank you.”
Blaze pushed his chair back to stand up, but Parrick looked at the documents one last time. “And about Thunderhead...”
“The Tlaloc mask?” Blaze asked.
“Yes. This number will have to much higher, of course. It’s my master acquisition. It wouldn’t do to have it at a level equal to the other pieces.” Parrick gazed upward. “You understand that as well, don’t you?”
Whatever you say, boss Blaze thought.
“Why don’t you list the numbers you’d like to see on the policy,” Blaze recommended, “and when I type up the final report, they’ll be in there.”
“Well now,” Parrick said, a broad smile crossing his face. “You’re even more reasonable than I thought you’d be.”
Blaze returned the smile, knowing that in twenty-four hours’ time, the version of the mask Parrick hadn’t would not only be inauthentic, it would also be uninsured by the real Davenport-Frasier, as would the rest of the collection. And Parrick would be none the wiser to all of it.
So much for having all the power, Parrick, he thought as he turned and waited for Dawes and Hanson to escort him back to his room.
N I N E
Helene hadn’t exaggerated; the prior magnificence Blaze had seen in the treasure room was dwarfed by the elegance of the gala that night. The space was filled with a smoky haze from the incense bowls; the chattering sounds of jungle creatures mingled with tribal-symphonic music and the voices of the guests as they surrounded the relics in their displays. Blaze watched it all from the entryway as Dawes and Hanson in tuxedoes escorted him onto the premises yet again. Their lapels were adorned with small masks that mimicked the Tlaloc relic, right down the eerie green eyes.
The Parricks were nothing if not detail-oriented.
The night was balmy, and the thick air drifted into the
room when the doors slid open, adding another layer of mystique. “All this for a mask,” Hanson said, shaking his head as they entered the drama-filled space.
“Imagine what kind of party they’d throw for the rest of the costume,” Blaze said.
Hanson laughed at that, but Dawes did nothing more than smirk. His attention was trained on the crowd, and on the rest of his security duty stationed throughout the room in identical tuxedoes and ties. They all had small primitive mask-shaped lapel pins that matched those worn by Dawes and Hanson. Every so often, the left eye on the mask would blink, and the guards’ heads would tip toward them, their mouths moving. Comm system, Blaze thought, disguised in fashionable accessories to make the guests feel unwatched...very clever. His vision circulated the shadows near the ceiling, searching for the cameras again. Small red lights in the corners reminded him where his visual surveillance was, a different consideration with the effects of the room going at full tilt. He felt his right cufflink to be certain the audio was switched on. Then he straightened his tie and made sure the tie tack camera Zed designed was pointed directly ahead. He cleared his throat, and heard Zed’s voice in his earpiece, “Visual is working...and it is dope as hell in that place,” he said. “These billionaires sure know how to party.”
Blaze stifled a laugh as he made his way to the entrance of the exhibit. Attendants stood at each display, ready and waiting to explain their significance and answer any questions the guests might have. Gabrielle was there, standing across from the veiled Thunderhead display, a look of worry penetrating the serviceable warmth of her smile. Blaze wandered slowly from piece to piece, making careful small talk with the other guests as they buzzed about everything—chatter about the artifacts, about the Parricks, about the extravagance of the room and the level of detail to which Helene had gone to make the fete a top-notch event. “At least two million spent, I would guess,” he heard a woman say.
