by Rebecca York
“Barbara wanted John out of the way—to make room for her husband. So she helped us get access to John.”
“You’re the woman he was sleeping with! I sent Brady to find you. You’re Grace Cunningham.”
“I’m Grace. But I didn’t have an affair with your husband. That was Karen Hilliard. You can think of her as Kevin’s twin sister.”
“No,” Lydia said, but her voice was weaker now.
“I’ll fill you in on all the details later,” Brady said. “But I want your help now. We have to find the man who was responsible for…” He stopped and glanced apologetically at Grace “…for having the clones created.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows about the conspiracy, but he doesn’t know which clones are involved. So he’s killing all the ones he can find.” Brady gave Lydia a hard look. “The only name we have for him is ‘the Paladin,’ and we need your help to find him.”
He could see her internal debate.
“John’s scheme to kill Kevin was immoral. You can do the right thing by helping us find the man who hatched the whole plot.”
“How?”
“The man acted as a gatekeeper for access to the clones. John told him he wanted a new heart. The Paladin decided he wasn’t sick enough to sacrifice his clone. That’s why John asked me to locate Kevin. John and the Paladin obviously had some correspondence, and I’d like to go through his computer and find it.”
He held his breath, waiting for her answer.
Lydia lifted her chin. “I want something in return.”
Chapter Sixteen
“What are you demanding?” Brady asked.
“I knew Barbara Frazier was ambitious for her husband. I didn’t know that would extend to murdering John. I want her punished.”
“You don’t mean in a court of law, do you?” Ian Wickers asked. “Because that would mean exposing what John did to ensure himself a perfectly compatible organ donor.”
Lydia thought about that.
“I think we can arrange a suitable punishment,” Wickers said.
“What?” Lydia demanded.
“Probably it’s better if you don’t know what it will be. That way, you don’t have to deny anything.”
She considered that and nodded. “All right.”
“I’d like access to John’s computer,” Brady said.
“It’s in his office. I haven’t touched any of his things.” She looked at the others and offered a grudging invitation. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
Grace looked at Brady.
“Go on,” she said. “I’ll stay here.”
He wanted to keep her in sight, but he figured he’d better do the job he’d come for and get out. So he followed Lydia upstairs to his brother’s office, sat down at the desk and booted the computer.
Lydia settled into an easy chair in the corner, watching him, and he wondered if she believed he was going to find evidence of her husband’s murderous activities. Doing his best to ignore her, he went into John’s e-mail, going back to the period just before his brother had asked him to locate Kevin Parsons.
A month before his meeting with John, he found an e-mail with the subject “Lifeline.” The reply said, “Sorry. Access denied.”
He was pretty sure the cryptic message was from the Paladin, but when he tried to find the name of the sender, he found it had gone to a mail clearinghouse that charged large fees to forward correspondence.
Brady had been in the computer field before he’d taken on the role of private detective, and he knew he wasn’t going to get past the gatekeeper at that site. Hoping the rigid set of his shoulders didn’t give away his emotions, he started scrolling farther back through his brother’s mail, looking for the exchange between the two men.
He hit it lucky with some correspondence about a month before the denial, when John had contacted a company called Executive Traders, asking about ordering a replacement for his hard drive. Brady didn’t recognize the company, which was interesting because his brother usually consulted him about computer-related problems.
He took down the name of the firm, then checked it out on the Web. It didn’t sell computer hardware at all, as far as he could see. In fact, their business was financial services. Digging further, he saw that the initial request had been routed to the executive offices, where John had been given an “out of office” automatic reply. He assumed there had been some other contact after that, using a different method—culminating in the “access denied” reply.
There was a phone number, but he didn’t want to call it because he didn’t want an inquiry traced back to him—or to the Ridgeway household.
His next stop was the “about us” section of the Web site, where he scanned the names of the officers, but he couldn’t tell much from the quick look.
“Where’s John’s laptop?” he asked Lydia.
She went into the bedroom and brought it back. “What do you want it for?”
“Additional research.”
He booted it up, got the company’s Web site and took the computer downstairs, where Wickers, Grace and Kevin were waiting.
“I think I might have a lead on the Paladin,” he said.
When they all looked hopeful, he added, “But we need to make sure we’ve got the right guy.”
After explaining the route he’d taken, he said, “We’ll each take an officer of the company. Grace, you can use the Light Street laptop I brought along. Kevin, take this one. And I’ll use John’s computer upstairs. By going into the backgrounds of the officers of the company, we should be able to figure out which one is the Paladin.”
After getting them started, Brady went back upstairs. Twenty minutes later, Kevin and Grace joined him.
“I think it’s Charles Hancock,” she said. “The vice president of the company.”
“Why?”
She grinned. “Well, here are his political contributions,” she said, showing him a very fringe Web site. “They match the kind of philosophy he’s exhibited with the cloning project.”
Kevin explained, “He has several different houses. But his base of operations is his McLean estate. Once Grace put me on to him, I used Google Earth to get a picture of the estate.” He showed it to Brady. “His compound is heavily fortified. There’s no reason the owner of a financial firm would need that kind of security. His real-estate taxes indicate that the property cost fifteen million dollars.”
Brady whistled through his teeth. “A nice piece of change.”
“And he’s been spending a lot more money than the business brings in. Which says he has other sources of income.”
“We both checked into his finances,” Grace continued. “He owns several companies—including one in the biotech field. One of the subsidiaries was Bio Gens.”
“Where Cortez did his nasty little experiments,” Brady said.
“Exactly.”
“That pretty much nails it. Good going.”
“But we can’t go after him until we’re positive,” Grace said.
“Now that we have this information, we can put the Light Street Detective Agency on the case. I want to make sure he’s the Paladin, and I want to know everything we can about him. I want to know how he thinks. How he’ll react.”
“We have a pretty good head start on that,” Grace murmured. “He’ll react with aggression.”
“I believe we can use that.”
“THERE’S BEEN SOME unusual activity at the Ridgeway Estate,” Charles Hancock’s chief of security informed him.
“Like what?”
“Delivery vans going in and out. Flowers. Catering.”
“That’s not so unusual, given that Lydia’s husband just died and she’s been having a lot of company.”
“I’ve taken that into consideration. It’s more than you would expect. And there have been several different companies.”
“Let me see.”
The man handed Charles a list, and he looked over the entries.
“Y
ou might have something here,” he conceded. “What do you think is going on?”
“I think Brady Lockwood and Grace Cunningham have been sneaking onto the estate.”
“For what purpose?”
“I don’t know. But we may be able to nail them there.”
“Or make Lydia Ridgeway tell us where they are.”
“Her security is a lot more lax than it used to be.”
“Okay. I want you to have a chat with Lydia. Tonight. I want to know everything she knows.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
THE RANDOLPH SECURITY facility was too far from the center of the action, so they’d moved from the western Maryland location to a safe house in American University Park, provided by the Light Street Detective Agency. It was on a quiet street, where they could easily keep track of the traffic. The two-story house was set well back from the curb. The backyard was shielded by a high fence. And there were an alarm system and cameras, which they were monitoring on a twenty-four hour basis.
Still, Grace was nervous.
She, Brady, Max and Hunter had settled in for a long wait, while they worked on plans for their next move. Common sense urged her to get out of town—far, far away from the Paladin. Yet she knew that wasn’t really an option, not with innocent people dying.
“Here’s another one,” she said, pointing to an inside page of The Washington Post.
Brady took the paper from her and read an item about a young man who had been killed while riding his bike in Sligo Creek Parkway. The driver had hit him and sped off.
“You can’t be sure that’s the Paladin’s work,” Brady said.
“No. But there’s a spate of fatal traffic accidents involving people in the right age range. And there’s another item, about a murder during a burglary.” She pointed to the front page of the Metro section.
“Can we prove any of it?” Brady asked.
“Yes,” Max answered.
They both looked at him. “There was a wound on the arm of that robbery victim. I assume the killers stopped to remove the transmitter. And the same with the hit-and-run.”
She dragged in a breath and let it out. “As far as we know, they’re operating on the East Coast?”
Max shook his head. “There are some suspicious reports from the Chicago area. We’re assuming they also have an assassination team there.”
“Have the police made any connection between the cases?” Brady asked.
“I don’t think so. At least that’s what my sources in the various departments are telling me. There isn’t a pattern that they’re going to pick up quickly if they’re not looking.”
Frustrated, Grace got up and walked to the window, where she stared out into the nicely landscaped backyard.
“I don’t like living in comfort while the Paladin’s killing people,” she whispered.
Brady got up and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against him.
“I know,” he whispered. “But we don’t want to make a fatal mistake.”
She nodded, knowing he was right, yet she was hardly able to deal with the wait.
“We should have some dinner,” he said.
“I don’t have much appetite.”
“Neither do I, but you can’t make yourself sick.” He forced a laugh. “Of course, that might happen anyway if I fix the dinner.”
“That’s your ploy to get me to cook?”
“Yeah.”
She followed him into the kitchen, praying that the wait would be over soon.
IT WAS JUST AFTER midnight when Lydia Ridgeway woke to find a large hand clamped over her mouth.
She’d taken a sleeping pill, and at first she thought the hand was part of one of the nightmares that had been plaguing her since John’s death. The hand pressed harder, and she knew it was real.
A jolt of fear zinged through her. A man was in her bedroom. Although she couldn’t see his face, she felt his malevolent presence.
The Light Street team had warned her that something like this could happen, and she’d dismissed the danger.
Now her heart started to pound as she struggled to sit up.
“Scream and I’ll kill you,” a harsh voice said close to her ear. “Do you understand?”
She nodded, and the hand was removed. A breeze blew on her face, and she knew it was from the window, which had been closed when she’d gone to bed. The beam of a small flashlight switched on, hitting her in the eyes, making her blink.
“How did you get in here?” she whispered.
The intruder answered with a harsh laugh. “Your security is a joke.”
“What do you want?”
“Information.”
“Like what?”
“Where are Brady Lockwood and Grace Cunningham.”
“I don’t know.”
“They’ve been here.”
“No.”
“That’s a lie.” The sharp words were punctuated by a slap across her face.
Unprepared for the pain and violence, she whimpered.
“The Cunningham woman was having an affair with your husband.”
Was that true? It wasn’t what Brady had told her, yet they certainly had their reasons for lying.
“Were they here?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“What did they want?”
“They wanted to find out about Karen Hilliard,” she lied, hoping he would believe her.
“Where are they now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Not good enough.” He gave her another slap, and she felt hot tears springing to her eyes.
“Leave me alone. I haven’t done anything.”
“You know where they are.”
“No. He was too cautious for that. I mean, I don’t know where they are, but I have a phone number. It’s in the drawer.” She fumbled at the bedside table and pulled out the pad of paper where she’d written the number. After handing it over, she trembled while she waited. This man could kill her now, and the maid would find her body in the morning.
He shined the light on the numbers. “This better be legit. Or you’ll be sorry.”
“It’s the number. I swear.”
“After I leave, don’t call the cops. And don’t call Lockwood to warn him.”
“I won’t.”
“You’d better not. Or you’re dead.”
Sure that he had her totally cowed, he backed away, toward the window where he’d come in. When he’d left, she drew in a shaky breath, wondering what would happen next.
But that wasn’t her concern, she told herself.
She had survived, and she wanted to stay alive.
GRACE LAY RIGID in bed. Beside her, Brady slept, and she admired his ability to relax under the present circumstances. It was hard to believe that the Paladin’s men weren’t closing in on the house. The Light Street Detective Agency had left men here, but what if the Paladin’s thugs came in a helicopter and dropped a bomb on the house?
Stop it, she ordered herself. Stop imagining the worst possible things that could happen.
She took a deep breath, then felt Brady’s hand close over hers.
“Did I wake you?” she murmured.
“No. But since we’re both lying here in the middle of the night maybe we can take advantage of the situation.”
He raised up on one elbow, leaning over her, his warm breath feathering her cheek before his lips touched down on her for a sweet persuasive kiss.
When she’d been young, she’d imagined marriage and children as part of her adult life. Then Karen Hilliard had contacted her and shattered that image of herself.
Although she’d hardly been able to admit it, she’d thought of herself as less than human, That was why she’d been willing to let herself be sucked into Karen’s scheme. Instinct had sent her running from the Ridgeway Consortium, but she never would have survived on her own. Brady had saved her. More than saved her. He’d made her want to live
again. She’d allowed herself to start imagining a future with him. Really, she ached for it, yet she was afraid that it would all be snatched away from her.
But if she was going to be wiped off the face of the earth tomorrow, she’d grab what she could with the man she loved now. She hadn’t told him how she felt because she didn’t want to put any pressure on him. But she could savor what they had now.
She pulled him closer, increasing the pressure of her lips against his, then stroked her hand down his back to his ass, pressing him more tightly against her.
“I see you’re fully awake,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Thanks to you.” She caught one of his hands and cupped it over her breast, smiling at his indrawn breath.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered.
She wanted a normal life with him, but she wasn’t going to say that; instead she ran her hand down his body, finding his erection. After pressing her hand over him, she slipped into his shorts, wrapping her fingers around him. Gratified by his response to her, she brought her mouth back to his for a passionate kiss.
When their lips finally broke apart, they were both trembling. He was leaning over her, his hand stroking down her body, when his cell phone rang, and they both froze.
He sat up and reached for the phone.
“Hello.”
“Brady Lockwood?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“I’m called the Paladin.”
Brady sat up straighter and switched on the light, then looked at Grace. “Did you hear that?” he mouthed. She nodded.
“Who are you?” Brady asked, pretending he didn’t already know the answer.
“That’s not important. Is Grace Cunningham with you?” the Paladin asked.
She saw Brady swallow. Before he could answer, she reached for the phone.
“Hello?”
“Ah, Grace. I’m so pleased to be in touch with you.”
“How did you find me?”
“That’s proprietary information.”
“If you have this phone number, you can figure out where we are.”
“Possibly.”
“Give me a number where I can call you back.”
The man on the other end of the line hesitated.
