Whirlpool

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “Shit,” Cahill said, disgusted, “he isn’t even worth working for.”

  While the prisoner stood and punched in the limousine’s cellular number, Cruz signaled Laurel to come to his side.

  “Mr. Hudson?” Cahill said. “I’m inside and in control of the situation.”

  He paused to listen.

  “No, Rowan didn’t give me any problem,” Cahill said, shooting a sideways glance at Cruz. “Most men are reasonable when they’re looking into the muzzle of a gun.”

  Pause.

  “The ruby? Uh, well, that’s a problem. There was a message from Novikov on Ms. Swann’s answering machine. He’s coming by within the hour to pick it up.”

  Hudson’s response made Cahill’s mouth curve into a nasty smile.

  “Yeah, I thought you’d feel that way,” Cahill said. “But neither Ms. Swann nor Rowan is talking about where they hid it. If you and Ms. Toth want to help me, I figure we have three times as good a chance as if I was tearing the place apart on my own.”

  Cahill listened.

  “Sorry, Mr. Hudson, no can do,” Cahill said. “You want Ms. Swann slapped around, you take care of it yourself.”

  A few moments later, Cahill hung up the phone and turned to face Cruz. “They’re on the way.”

  “Laurel,” Cruz said, “watch the walk through the front shutters. Remember, don’t—”

  “Move them at all. I remember.”

  As soon as she was out of the room, Cruz looked at Cahill.

  “I’d like to trust you,” Cruz said, “but I’m paranoid about Laurel’s safety. So turn around and put your hands behind your back, wrists together.”

  “Hell.”

  Cahill turned around and put his hands behind his back, wrists together. An instant later, Cruz slapped on tight plastic restraints.

  “Straddle this and sit,” Cruz said, turning a kitchen chair toward the other man.

  Cahill straddled and sat.

  Cruz turned and started for the back door.

  “What, no gag?” Cahill asked sarcastically.

  “If you want to sing out a warning and bring a murder-one charge down on your head, I’m not going to stop you. If you want to get up and walk out of the kitchen and get shot, I’m not going to stop that either.”

  Hoping with each step to hear Gillespie’s special signal floating up from the underbrush, Cruz went out the back door and down the walk to the driveway. What he heard was Hudson and Toth coming up the path from the street. They walked right up to the front door and knocked.

  Cruz took the steps behind them like a big ghost.

  “Open it up, Laurel,” he said.

  Hudson and Toth made startled sounds and spun around. The Uzi’s blunt promise of violence stared back at them.

  “One at a time,” Cruz said. “Hudson, you go first.”

  “Now see here—” Hudson began.

  “Shut up. Get inside. You first.”

  Hudson looked for a long moment at Cruz, then turned and went into the house.

  “Now you,” Cruz said to Toth.

  “Jesus, is that you, Rowan?”

  “Yeah. Walk.”

  “Damn. Nobody has a voice like you, babe. Makes me hot just listening to you.”

  “Get inside.”

  Once inside, Cruz frisked Hudson thoroughly. He wasn’t armed.

  When Cruz turned to Toth, she smiled and put her hands behind her head. The action parted her stylish silk jacket and thrust her breasts against the thin silk of her blouse.

  “I’m ready if you are,” she said in a throaty voice.

  Shocked, Laurel watched from the back of the room. Toth moved sinuously beneath Cruz’s hands, turning a routine pat-down into frank sexual foreplay.

  “A little lower, babe,” Toth said, smiling. “Ah, that’s it. Now harder. Harder.”

  Cruz schooled his face to show nothing as his hands went over Toth’s spectacular body. He didn’t back off until he was certain she wasn’t carrying any weapon she hadn’t been born with.

  “That wasn’t bad, babe,” Toth said huskily. “Want me to do the same for you?”

  Cruz turned to Hudson. The older man was standing still, watching, thinking very hard.

  “Do you have the ruby?” Hudson asked bluntly.

  “Do you have the egg?” Cruz asked.

  “Yes.”

  “We have the ruby.”

  “I was going to pay Ms. Toth three million for the ruby. I’ll pay you four.”

  “Why?”

  “I want my exhibit to be a success.”

  “Yeah. Right. Why didn’t I think of that?” Cruz turned to Toth. “What about you?”

  “Jamie blackmailed me into helping him steal the egg.”

  “Is that why you killed him?”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, her black eyes wary.

  “Poison.”

  “Not me, babe. Uh-uh. Jamie was the best I ever had. That man could go all night and be the first one up in the morning. Studs like that are hard to find.”

  Cruz grunted and turned to Hudson.

  “What about you?” Cruz asked. “Did you poison him?”

  “Has he been poisoned?” Hudson asked calmly.

  “Yes or no.”

  “Five million.”

  Cruz ignored him.

  “Six,” Hudson said.

  The temptation to backhand Hudson was so great that it shocked Cruz. It told him how furious he was.

  On the other hand, knocking Hudson out would limit the number of people Cruz had to watch. If all three got smart and jumped Laurel at the same time, he wouldn’t be able to shoot for fear of hitting her.

  Christ, Gillie. Where are you?

  “Laurel,” Cruz said, his voice harsh.

  She jumped as if he’d flicked her with a whip.

  “Go watch the back door,” Cruz said. “I’m expecting the sergeant-major, so don’t shoot until you know who it is.”

  When she walked out of the room, Cruz breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “Sit on the floor,” Cruz told Hudson and Toth.

  “Listen, young man—” Hudson began.

  “Sit down or get knocked down.”

  Hudson sat.

  Toth was already sitting. She was a much better judge of male anger than Hudson was.

  “Listen up, gang,” Cruz said. “You’re all nominated for grand theft and first-degree murder. But all of you don’t have to hang. One of you can get off absolutely free. All you have to do is give me the egg and tell me who poisoned Jamie Swann.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Hudson said quickly. “He doesn’t have any evidence or he wouldn’t be doing this.”

  “What about you two?” Cruz asked, looking from Toth to Cahill. “You don’t have billions to buy your way out. All you have is the egg and the knowledge of who killed Jamie Swann.”

  “I didn’t do it,” Cahill said. “I’ll swear to that in any court in the land.”

  “He’s lying,” Toth said. “He was the one who knocked poor Jamie senseless. If Jamie is dead, it’s his fault, not mine.”

  “What about the egg?” Cruz asked Toth. “Where is it?”

  “Last I knew, Jamie had it.”

  Cruz made a disgusted sound. “What about you, Cahill? Can you give me the egg?”

  “I—” Cahill began.

  “Cruz!” Laurel called from the kitchen.

  “Not now, honey.”

  “She really does not have a choice,” Novikov said.

  56

  Los Angeles

  Wednesday night

  Cruz spun and brought Novikov under his gun.

  Pushing Laurel ahead of him, the Russian walked into the room. In one hand was an automatic pistol. In the other was a fistful of Laurel’s black hair. The muzzle of the pistol was jammed up beneath her jaw. It was a very professional hold.

  “Let her go,” Cruz said.

  “Drop your gun,” was Novikov’s answer.

  “No.
You’d kill us anyway.” Cruz looked at Laurel. “Take a deep breath, honey. You look like you’re going to faint,” he said, stressing the last word slightly. “You okay?”

  As she looked into the pale, crystalline blue of Cruz’s eyes, her breath stopped. The focused intensity of him was almost tangible.

  Faint.

  Abruptly her knees buckled and she went down toward the floor like a stone. The movement dragged Novikov off balance. Her foot hooked around one of his ankles and finished the job.

  Fighting for balance, Novikov flung up his arms. The gun muzzle jerked away from her jaw.

  Cruz fired even as he lunged forward. The bullet shattered Novikov’s right wrist and sent the gun spinning away. Before it landed, Cruz’s foot lashed out, connecting with Novikov’s jaw.

  The Russian hit the floor and didn’t move.

  Cruz didn’t bother to check on him. He knew precisely what his kick had done.

  He spun around to cover Hudson, Toth, and Cahill. No one had moved. Hudson and Toth looked stunned. Cahill looked very wary.

  “Laurel?” Cruz asked, not looking away from the three captives. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m—okay.”

  Laurel forced herself to take a deep breath, then another. It had been very easy to fake a fainting spell. She’d been close to the edge anyway.

  “Can you stand up?” Cruz asked.

  “Y-yes.” Her voice trembled, but she stood up without help.

  “Get Novikov’s gun and stand with your back to mine,” Cruz said. “Novikov’s bodyguard is still out there somewhere.”

  Laurel picked up the Russian’s gun and looked over at the boneless sprawl of his body. Quickly she looked away. She took up a position with her back to Cruz and forced herself to focus on the pistol Novikov had used.

  The safety was off. The gun was cocked.

  “Nine-millimeter,” she said. “Just like yours.”

  “Is it good to go?”

  “Yes, the—Cruz, there’s somebody by the front door.”

  There was a startled grunt, a thump, and a crash from the front of the house. Then an odd four-note whistle came through the darkness.

  “Don’t shoot,” Cruz said. “It’s Gillespie. Come on in, Sergeant-Major. It’s about goddamn time you got here.”

  A moment later Gillespie walked into the room. He had an automatic pistol in one big hand and Gapan’s limp body thrown over his shoulder.

  “Found him lying back in the shadows,” Gillespie said, dumping the bodyguard onto the floor.

  “Probably waiting for me to get the ruby and the egg together,” Cruz said.

  “It would be the smart thing to do,” Gillespie agreed. “Ms. Swann, if you like, I’ll take over now.”

  Laurel looked up, way up, into Gillespie’s beautifully sculpted features.

  “Thank you,” she said, lowering her weary arms and flicking the safety on in the same motion. “I wasn’t cut out for this.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Gillespie said, smiling.

  Cruz smiled too, but the muzzle of his gun never wavered.

  “Who’s the black beauty?” Toth asked, looking Gillespie over from head to toe and back.

  “Shut up,” Cruz said. “The next person who talks without permission gets what Novikov did.”

  Silence.

  Gillespie went and stood behind the three conscious prisoners. Each of them was within reach of his big hands.

  “We’re ready for you, Ambassador,” Gillespie said.

  Ambassador Redpath walked into the room and stood beside the sergeant-major. She carried a sleek, deadly-looking pistol, muzzle down, along the side of her leg. She glanced around the room, frowned at Novikov’s body, and turned to Cruz.

  “Is Aleksy dead?” she asked.

  “Doubt it. I try not to kill clients before they pay the bill.”

  Redpath smiled slightly. “The egg?”

  “Hudson and Toth say Swann has it. They’re lying. One of them has it stashed somewhere.”

  “What about him?” she asked, gesturing to Cahill.

  “He says he doesn’t have it. I believe him.”

  “The ruby?” Redpath asked.

  “I have it.”

  “Excellent,” she murmured.

  Redpath put the safety on her weapon, looked at the three prisoners, and smiled like a shark. “Let the negotiations begin.”

  57

  Karroo

  Four weeks later

  Thursday afternoon

  With shuttered eyes, Laurel Swann looked around Cassandra Redpath’s office. Nothing had changed since she’d last been to Karroo. The office was still filled with rare intellectual treasures. The desert sun was still hot. And she was still trying to understand why she’d been drawn to Cruz Rowan as she had never been drawn to any man.

  Too bad it hadn’t been mutual.

  But life was an unpredictable bitch. If Laurel had learned nothing else in the past month, she’d learned that.

  “Ms. Swann,” Redpath said, rising graciously from behind her desk. “It was good of you to come all the way here.”

  Laurel’s smile was bittersweet. “Your invitation was irresistible, Ambassador. I’ve been curious to know how it all turned out.”

  What she didn’t say was that she hungered to see Cruz Rowan again, if only for a moment. She wanted to know if the shadows in his eyes were the same as hers. She wanted to know if he dreamed of water hidden within a rocky canyon. She wanted to know if he’d discovered the agonizing difference between alone and lonely.

  She doubted that he had, but she had to be certain.

  If she was certain, maybe she would stop seeing his face, stop hearing his voice, stop remembering what it had been like to be with a man who expanded her possibilities as a woman rather than limiting them. She already had part of an answer to her questions. She didn’t like it, but she accepted it because there wasn’t any way to hide from it.

  Cruz hadn’t been on the plane that picked Laurel up.

  He hadn’t been waiting at the private strip to take her to the compound.

  If he was anywhere in Karroo, he hadn’t bothered to walk a few yards and say hello.

  Which meant he hadn’t missed her. Not really. Not the way she’d missed him, like having part of her body cut away.

  Maybe he’s out saving some other woman’s life, Laurel thought, then giving that life back to her and leaving without a word, taking her heart with him and not giving a damn.

  “Please sit down,” Redpath said softly. “You look…different.”

  Laurel shrugged at the diplomatic tact. She knew that she looked different. Older. More wary. Colder.

  More like her father.

  “No surprise there,” Laurel said. “One way or another, it’s been a hell of a month.”

  “For all of us,” Redpath muttered under her breath.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “No matter. Do sit down, Laurel. I have the feeling you’re going to vanish without notice.”

  Laurel’s smile was like her eyes. Distant. But she sat down.

  “You don’t look a bit different,” she said to Redpath. “Obviously you’ve found your stable center in the whirlpool of life.”

  “That stable point isn’t mine alone.”

  “I didn’t think it was. How is the sergeant-major? Still drop-dead handsome?”

  “Oh, yes.” Redpath smiled. “Would you care for something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. When your invitation came, I wondered if I should accept it. Now I know. It was a mistake. The sooner I leave Karroo, the better off I’ll be.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t pretend ignorance,” Laurel said evenly. “I’ve seen you in action. So tell me, Ambassador, what happened after Cruz drove me to the emergency room to check on Dad?”

  And left me there, Laurel added silently, bitterly. Not a word. Not a glance. Not even a wave.

  “I thought Cruz might have kept you informed.”
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  “He might have. He didn’t. I kept hoping to see something in the newspapers, but all I found were bits and pieces.”

  “Such as?” Redpath asked, curious.

  “Oh, such as a story buried way back in the Los Angeles Times about two Russian visitors named Aleksy Novikov and Georgi Gapan being mugged in big bad Hollywood. One broken wrist and two mild concussions.”

  “They were fortunate,” Redpath said blandly. “City streets have become quite dangerous these days.”

  “Then there was the card in front of the Ruby Surprise’s empty case at the Hudson Museum exhibit.”

  “I didn’t attend.”

  “Then you wouldn’t know that the egg was damaged in shipment from Tokyo,” Laurel said dryly. “During the repair, it was discovered that the piece was probably a fraud rather than a Fabergé and therefore was withdrawn from the show.”

  “Sad. One wonders what the world is coming to.”

  “This one wonders in particular what happened to Damon Hudson and that…creature.”

  “Claire Toth?”

  Laurel nodded curtly.

  “I’m afraid Mr. Hudson’s health has taken a dramatic turn for the worse,” Redpath said. “It’s to be expected in a man of his age, I suppose.”

  “His age? He looked the same age as my father.”

  “Unfortunately, he was taking some illegal, highly experimental rejuvenation treatments. They worked rather spectacularly for a time. Then he developed an allergy to the drugs.”

  “When?”

  “About a month ago.”

  “Really,” Laurel said. “Remarkable.”

  Redpath made a murmuring sound of agreement that was suspiciously close to a purr. “The doctors are fascinated by Hudson’s withdrawal symptoms. His body is quite literally aging before their eyes, like a match being consumed by an invisible flame. They expect the process to go to completion rather soon.”

  “Completion?”

  “Death.”

  Laurel took a deep breath and let it out softly. “I see. And the creature that poisoned my father?”

  “Ah, yes, the spectacular Ms. Toth.” Redpath glanced at the complex, worldwide clock which was one of the few modern features of her office. “As we speak, Ms. Toth is crossing the terminator into darkness.”

  Laurel looked at the glowing line separating night from day on the clock. The line was sweeping slowly, majestically, from east to west across Europe.