Reap the Wind

by Iris Johansen

  Chelsea’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes glowed brilliantly as she looked challengingly out over the audience. “That’s all. Now it’s up to you. Don’t be stupid and blow your chance like I almost did. You may not ever get another one like Jonathan Andreas.”

  She turned and walked away from the podium and down the stairs.

  The audience was on its feet and the noise level deafening as she walked up the aisle toward Jonathan.

  “My God!” Alex whispered.

  “Yes.” Caitlin’s eyes were stinging with tears as she rose to her feet, applauding with the crowd. “Will they blow it, Alex?”

  Alex took her arm. “I have no idea.” He started to lead her from the stage. “But no one can say it wasn’t one hell of a campaign kickoff.”

  “I know it took a little emphasis off the perfume, but I couldn’t refuse to let her do it.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Alex grinned. “If they do make it to the White House, Chelsea’s speech will be broadcast for at least the next eight years. You can’t buy this kind of publicity.”

  Chelsea stopped before Jonathan and lifted her chin. “I suppose I should have told you I was going to do this. I hope you haven’t changed your mind about marrying me. It’s too late now.”

  “Then I guess I’m caught.”

  “Do you think Jennings will be angry?”

  “Furious.”

  “Do you care?”

  “Hell, no. Why should I? I have you to protect me.”

  “That’s right, you do. How lucky can you get?” She took his hand and pulled him toward the entrance. “Come on, we have a news conference with Alex and Caitlin and I want to check on Marisa first.” She caught sight of Tyndale standing behind the barricade and stopped in midstride, lifting her chin defiantly. “I hope the show suited you, Tyndale. Are you going to vote for my husband for president?”

  “Undecided.” The corners of Tyndale’s lips indented with what might have been the faintest smile. “But I might vote for you if you decide to run.”

  She blinked and then grinned at him. “Didn’t you notice? I threw my hat in the ring. It’s a team operation.” She sailed past him, her arm slipping through Jonathan’s. She whispered, “You know, I believe I like him. How do you think he’d do as press secretary?”

  He laughed. “You’re already making appointments?”

  But she had forgotten Tyndale and was frowning thoughtfully. “I think I’ll phone my publicist and find out if he can get us a spot on Carson and Nightline tomorrow night. That way we’ll have both the entertainment and the news audience cornered. I figure if we can ignite enough interest and popularity to make us zoom up in the polls, the party will have to give you the nomination.” He was laughing and she tried to look at him sternly. “I’m serious. We have to make this work for us. Twenty years from now I’m not going to have you blaming me for robbing you of the presidency. They’re not going to take away a job you want. We’re going to fight them.”

  “I’m sure we are.” Jonathan leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “And I can hardly wait.”

  There is no love like that snatched from beneath the shadow of the sword. . . .

  The words came back to Caitlin as she stood on the hill, looking down at the rose field below her.

  The sword had fallen, devastating Vasaro, but through that devastation she had found another love and other friendships that would endure through the years.

  As Vasaro had endured.

  Somehow she had still expected to smell smoke, but there was only the clean scent of earth. The land had been cleared, the earth turned, and below her she could see Jacques and the workers planting the cuttings they had salvaged from the original bushes. In another row other workers were planting two-foot bushes purchased from nurseries.

  Then she saw Alex kneeling in the dirt, frowning with concentration as he planted a cutting. His appearance reminded her of those first weeks at Vasaro. He wore a blue chambray work shirt and faded jeans, his dark hair held off his forehead by a blue and white bandanna.

  He looked up and smiled as she started down the hill. Her pace quickened until she was almost running.

  “You didn’t leave a note,” she said breathlessly as she came to stand, looking down at him. “I woke up and you were gone. That’s getting to be a bad habit with you.”

  “I thought you’d know where I was.” He finished patting the earth around the cutting. “We’d done all we could with the promotion. It was time to get to work here.”

  She fell to her knees, facing him. “Jonathan, Chelsea, and Marisa are leaving for New York this afternoon.”

  “I know. I phoned Jonathan and Chelsea before I left the hotel to say good-bye.” Alex sat back on his heels and looked at her. “We may not see them for a while.”

  “Interpol called Jonathan just before I left the hotel. The ‘Mona Lisa’ has been recovered.”

  He went still. “What?”

  “The insurance people were contacted and a finder’s fee negotiated two days ago. An exchange of cash for the painting took place on one of the islands in the Azores yesterday afternoon.”

  “What kind of finder’s fee?”

  “Five million dollars.”

  Alex gave a low whistle. “I suppose it was an anonymous transaction.”

  “Yes, I guess they would have bargained with the devil himself to get it back.” Caitlin looked down, nibbling at her lower lip. “I . . . I thought it might have been Kemal.”

  His reply was noncommittal. “Negotiating with the insurance companies is a lot cleaner and smarter than trying to fence art objects that famous.”

  “But do you think it was Kemal?”

  “I don’t know.” He reached out and lifted her chin on the arc of his fingers. “Accept it. We may never know. The man who made that deal could have been the captain of the Argosy.”

  She nodded. “But if the Wind Dancer shows up, if Jonathan is contacted about a deal . . . We’d know then, wouldn’t we?”

  Alex nodded. “I don’t see how anyone else but Kemal could have the Wind Dancer.” He paused. “But he also knew about the contents and he could parlay those cures into an empire if he chose.”

  “If he’s alive.”

  “Yes.” His hand fell away from her face. “If he’s alive.”

  “I asked Jonathan to let us know as soon as he heard anything from the insurance company about the Wind Dancer.”

  “Good.” He reached into his pocket. “I have something for you. I ordered it when I first got back to Nice, but we were so busy, I didn’t have time to give it to you.” He held up a pendant by its delicate gold chain and dangled it in front of her eyes. “I know it’s not the Wind Dancer, but it’s the best I could do.”

  An exquisite golden Pegasus with emerald eyes.

  Memories rushed back to Caitlin of that twilight time long ago. “Jacques told you?”

  He nodded. “I couldn’t locate the one your father gave you, so I had this one made. I know it won’t mean the same—”

  “No, it’s not the same.” Sunlight glittered on the gold as she held it up to look at it. “It’s more beautiful.”

  His gaze met hers. “And I’ll never let anyone take it away from you. I’ll never let anyone take anything from you again.”

  “Then it means more too, doesn’t it?” The Pegasus shimmered through a veil of tears as she lowered her arm. “You didn’t need to do this. I can’t help hoping the Wind Dancer isn’t lost, but I don’t need it any longer. I needed the dream and we fulfilled that dream. Now Vasaro, a new Vasaro, is the dream.” She sat back on her heels. “What’s that big truck parked in the driveway?”

  “Trees.” Alex grinned. “Twenty-year-old orange trees. I figured we’d get a head start. I still want to be around when they become useful to us. Another truck comes this afternoon with the rest of the rosebushes, and an architect will be here tomorrow for a consultation about the new manor house. You can have any style you like as long as I have my say abo
ut my study. I like space to move around.”

  “You’re certainly looking ahead. I assume you’re footing the bill? I can’t afford all this.”

  He looked away from her and didn’t speak for a moment. When he did, the words came awkwardly. “My treat.” Another silence. “I thought perhaps we could come to an arrangement.”

  “An arrangement?”

  “We could make a deal. I’d restore Vasaro for you and maybe you’d let me stay around awhile.”

  She held her breath. “How long?”

  “I don’t know.” He moved down the row and began overturning the earth with the spade. “What about starting off with forty or fifty years? After that we’d renegotiate.”

  She let her breath out in a rush. “I thought you didn’t want roots.”

  “I told you once that everything changes. Is it a deal?”

  “‘Give them what they want and they’ll give you what—’ ” She stopped as he swiftly lifted his head and she saw his expression.

  “Name anything in the world you want and I’ll give it,” he said thickly. “If you’ll just let me stay with you.”

  “You will?” A luminous smile lit her face. “Then I’d be an idiot to refuse you, wouldn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  She chuckled as she reached out and took his hands. She laced her fingers through his own and the golden Pegasus was caught between them. “Fifty years, you say?”

  “At least.”

  “Marriage?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind.” She paused, suddenly tense. “Do you love me, Alex Karazov?”

  “Of course,” he said, surprised. “What else is this all about?”

  Her joyous laughter rang out over the rose field.

  There is no love like that snatched from beneath the shadow of the sword. . . .

  Epilogue

  The Wind Dancer was not returned to Jonathan Andreas.

  During the next five years all the other works of art stolen by the Black Medina were redeemed by their respective countries in exchange for staggeringly large amounts of money in finder’s fees.

  Charles Barney was never apprehended for the murder of Rod McMillan.

  As far as could be determined, the Argosy and its crew had vanished from the seas.

  Vasaro

  Jack Kilon parked his gray Renault rental car on the driveway at Vasaro, jumped out, and walked toward the limousine that had drawn up ahead of him before the steps of the brick manor house.

  The chauffeur was helping Marisa Benedict from the car as he reached the limousine, and she smiled at Jack. “You’re going to like it here. It was once one of my favorite places in the whole world.”

  He already liked it here. He had grown up on a farm in North Carolina and he missed the sight and smell of new growth. Being a Secret Serviceman for the presidential family had its perks, but he’d never liked living in big cities. Therefore when he had been assigned to guard Marisa Benedict after her stepfather had won the presidency he had found it a painless assignment. Her job as a marine biologist in San Diego usually took him far away from Washington’s political hotbeds, and besides, he genuinely liked the woman. She was always pleasant, even chummy, and reminded him a little of his sister back in Bostic. “It’s a beautiful place, Miss Benedict.”

  A faint shadow knitted Marisa’s forehead as her gaze wandered past the flowering lime trees lining the driveway to the road leading to the village. “It looks different from the last time I was here.”

  Jack had been briefed about the attack on Vasaro when he had been assigned to protect her. “No need to worry this time, Miss Benedict. Nothing is going to happen. When the president and your mother arrive tomorrow, there will be enough security to stop an army.”

  “I know, Jack.” She smiled again, that grave, sweet smile she always gave him. “It just brings back memories.”

  “Ah, you must be Marisa.” A dark-haired young man dressed in a dazzling white suit had come out of the house and was strolling down the steps toward them. “I have been expecting you. Caitlin and Alex have gone into Grasse to arrange additional security and asked me to welcome you if you came before they got back. I am Luis Delgado.”

  Jack stiffened and automatically took a step back and to the side to enable him to move quickly should it become necessary. He had been briefed on everyone who was supposed to be at Vasaro, and there was no Luis Delgado on the list. “Just who are you, Mr. Delgado?”

  “Secret Service?” Luis Delgado nodded approvingly. “And very alert. You’re quite right to question me. Caitlin and Alex purposely didn’t give you my name when they furnished your organization with the list. I’m a surprise for the president.”

  “We don’t like surprises.”

  “I assure you that the president will like this one. It must get very dull in the White House at times.”

  “Why would additional security be needed? We manage pretty well on our own.”

  “Ah, I’m sure you do, but I’m very finicky about my luggage, and Alex indulged me by arranging it be properly protected.” He turned to the chauffeur. “Take Ms. Benedict’s bags into the house. The housekeeper will show you which room.” He turned back to Marisa. “I chose it for you myself. I saw you in a yellow room, radiant with sunshine.”

  “Why, how kind of you.”

  He nodded. “I can be kind.” His smile suddenly flashed in his olive-dark face. “I will always be kind to you.”

  Jack saw the arrested expression appear on Marisa’s face and felt a flutter of apprehension. Cripes, if nothing worse, this bozo could be some kind of gigolo or confidence man and Chelsea Andreas would have his head if he let him near her daughter. He stepped forward. “I think we’d better check out the house before you go in, Ms. Benedict.”

  “By all means. And I’m sure you’ll want to contact your superiors and Alex and Caitlin about me. It would be remiss of you if you didn’t.” Luis Delgado took Marisa’s arm. “In the meantime, I will show Ms. Benedict the rose field. It’s in bloom now and the sight is breathtaking. I’ll be sure to keep within your sight.”

  Before Jack could protest, they were strolling across the lush green front lawn toward the field in the distance. He muttered a curse and hurried to his car phone to patch through a call to Nice to Sam Gesler, his superior, who was handling the arrangements for the president’s arrival the next day.

  “A surprise package,” he told Gesler grimly as he kept his eyes on Marisa and Delgado. “A man called Luis Delgado met us at Vasaro. Do we have anything on him?”

  He heard Gesler rustling through papers. “No mention. What kind of profile?”

  “Good-looking, dark, about thirty, two-thousand-dollar suit, smooth. Knows his way around the place. Doesn’t seem to be evasive.”

  “It’s possible he could be okay.”

  “Do you want to tell that to Chelsea Andreas?”

  Gesler sighed. “You know better than that. We have to make sure damn quick. I’ll see if I can check him out. I hate these hurry-up trips. The president gets one telephone call and he drops everything to run to France. What the hell could be that important?”

  Jack had been wondering that himself. “Maybe a family emergency. Why else send his daughter here?”

  “Damned if I know. Stay on Delgado. I’ll get back to you.”

  Jack hung up the phone and hurried after Marisa and Luis Delgado.

  Luis Delgado threw out his hand to indicate the crimson glory of the carpet of roses below them. “Is it not magnificent? Can you not feel the strength of renewal? Caitlin and Alex have done well.”

  “Yes.” Her gaze wandered back to the road leading to the village.

  “You are thinking about the man who died for you.”

  She stiffened and turned to face him. “You know about Peter?”

  He smiled gently. “It was not your fault. A man chooses himself what is important enough for him to die for.”

  How had he known? Even her
mother had never guessed the guilt that had haunted her over the years.

  He said, “I thought when Caitlin told me the story that there are few women extraordinary enough to arouse that response in a man.”

  Marisa glanced at him curiously. “Alex and Caitlin wouldn’t confide that story to just anyone. You must be a very good friend, Mr. Delgado.”

  “Luis. Yes, very good, though we have not seen each other for a long time. I live on an island off the coast of Chile and I don’t get to Europe often.”

  “An island?”

  He nodded. “You would be very interested in my island. I understand you’re a marine biologist. I have funded a research laboratory on the north shore to study dolphins. My group has been coming up with some amazing research lately. Perhaps you’ve heard of the Delgado Institute?”

  “You’re that Delgado? I’ve read papers from some of your people.” Her face was alight with enthusiasm. “You also funded the last Save the Dolphin campaign?”

  He nodded. “My niece is very interested in the dolphins as well. She would like to meet you.”

  “Did you bring her with you?”

  “Not this trip. Melisande was involved in an experiment and I have personal business to conduct.” He stopped on the hill and looked out over the rose field. “It is time I married. I have brought a marriage settlement to buy a bride.”

  “Buy?” Marisa smiled. “Here? Surely, even in South America, arranged marriages and settlements have gone out of fashion.”

  He shook his head. “The old ways still linger. Marriage settlements are important. They show good faith and a promise of fine treatment for a bride. The bigger the settlement, the stronger the promise.” His gaze shifted from the field back to her face. “And I have brought her father a bride price richer than any man has ever given for any woman.”