by Davis Bunn
“That’s impossible.”
“This is the company your father thinks is trying to sink his ship, right?”
“He and Joshua both.”
“Can you give me some details?”
Kayla looked out the front window. “While he was still working for them, Daddy started making inroads with the Oxford colleges and their endowment programs. He went to the MVP board and asked them to set up an Oxford office. He said the university required a different approach from the normal City edict of profit above all else. He said this new office should be quasi-independent, allowed to take an altogether different approach.”
“But MVP refused your father, didn’t they?” Adam filled in the blanks. “So Peter quit the company, started up his own group, and made a success of it. And they’ve been after him ever since.”
She shuddered. “We have to leave here, Adam.”
“Kayla, listen to me. This is going to be hard for you. But we’re after solving a problem. A very serious crisis. And we can only do this with your help.” He turned to the detective and asked, “How much longer?”
Bill Foley glanced at his watch. “Any moment now. According to the lass I spoke with, you could set your watch by this bloke. By all accounts he’s a work hard, play harder type. Him and his pack, they go to that champagne bar you see round the corner there. Leave the premises bang on time, claim the same table every day. Leastwise, that’s what I was told.”
Kayla looked from one man to the other. “Who?”
Adam made sure the video was up and running. His fin-gers were trembling slightly, but his voice remained steady. “Watch closely.”
Bill pointed out the window. “That’s him coming out of the front doors now.”
Adam held back just far enough to ensure the taxi’s shadows hid his camera. He was amazed at how calm he felt. Tremors touched his viewfinder every now and then. Even so, far more than the camera’s lens detached him from everything going on out there on the street. And even here inside the taxi. He heard Kayla’s sharp intake of breath. Beside her on the seat, the detective said, “Best stay back, miss. Don’t want him seeing you now, do we?”
“This can’t be happening!”
Adam zoomed in more tightly on the man walking down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. The camera went out of focus, then sharpened. Adam was grateful for this distance, very grateful indeed. “That’s him, isn’t it? Geoffrey. The thief.”
chapter 18
Adam had never had much contact with American cops. But he suspected they held a lot of similarities to their British counterparts. They were seated in an office on the third floor of the new Scotland Yard headquarters. Outside the window to the right of his chair, Adam could see the red buses trundle past, the black humpbacked taxis, the white-stoned buildings of ancient London town. The two policemen seated across from them were members of the Fraud Squad. Their accents were clipped, their uniforms and badges distinctly British. But they gave Kayla the same flat cop-gaze. And they responded with the same blunt directness.
The male policeman occupied the chair behind the desk. “I’m afraid there is very little we can do for you, Miss Austin.”
“I’m handing him to you on a plate,” Kayla protested.
“Hardly that. You are describing a crime that took place on the soil of a different sovereign nation.”
“Involving money from a British trust.”
The younger of the two officers, a dark-haired woman who made up for her diminutive stature with a rock-solid density, said, “She has a point.”
The male officer gave her a sour look. “The crime took place in Kenya.”
“Tanzania,” Kayla corrected. “We operate in both countries, but our central office—”
“Kenya, Tanzania, Timbuktu, the result is the same insofar as this office is concerned. The crime took place outside our jurisdiction.”
The female officer, however, was a trifle more sympathetic. “We could send a flyer to the local authorities.”
“That won’t help us,” Kayla said glumly. “They lost interest in Geoffrey’s theft the moment they heard everything was taken. Which meant there was nothing left to bribe them with.”
The male officer checked his notes. “I thought you said his name was Derek.”
“It was. Is. But I knew him as Geoffrey.”
The officer started to make a note, but thought better of it and set down his pen. “That changes nothing so far as we are concerned.”
“But—”
“Let’s just review what we have, shall we?” He glanced at his associate, clearly arguing with her as well. “This Derek or Geoffrey was hired by your organization. He worked with you for, how long was it?”
“About six months.”
“He then left. At the same time, your bank account and your office safe were both allegedly cleaned out.”
“There’s no alleged about this!”
“We have nothing except your word to go on here, Miss Austin. And even if we accept that a crime took place, we have no way to tie him to this.” Another look at his associate, then he added, “As far as we are concerned, you might have stolen the funds yourself.”
Kayla turned bitter. “From my own father?”
“It’s happened before. Six hundred thousand pounds is a substantial sum.”
“Then why would I have come in here?”
Adam spoke for the first time since entering the office. “Thanks for seeing us. Come on, Kayla. We’re all done here.”
The female officer accompanied them back to the elevators. She introduced herself as Inspector Walton, pushed the elevator button, and said, “I for one accept that a genuine crime was committed.”
Kayla was evidently too hot from the exchange to respond. So Adam said, “Thank you.”
“My children insist on eating Fair Trade produce every chance they get. I admire you for what you’ve tried to do.” She handed Adam her card. “If you can come up with anything concrete that ties this character to the deed, do please let me know.”
On the train back to Oxford, Kayla flashed continually back to the shocking moments. In the early days, her parents had often spoken of MVP’s tactics. How they were bent on destroy-ing her father’s new company. How nothing was too low for them.
And now this. Geoffrey Rambling, the man she assumed was lost and gone forever. Walking down the sidewalk, flashing his pirate’s grin at the people to either side. The man in control. The winner.
The only thing that kept her anchored to earth was Adam’s hand. He sat beside her and did not speak. One hand was entwined around hers, the other rested on the seat behind her head. She felt his warmth and strength radiating out, enveloping her. Giving her the ability to draw the world back into focus and say, “I want to kill him.”
Adam did not speak. His dark gaze held coppery glints of light. He watched her with an unblinking calm.
“Find a gun, walk up to him, let him get a good look at who it is, and bang. Finished.”
Adam held her gaze and remained silent.
“Don’t you have anything to say?”
“I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
“For you to get over the shock and come back to earth.”
“You don’t think I’m serious?”
“I know it’s not going to happen. And so do you.”
She turned to the window. The train passed a bend in the river Thames. A village of thatched houses and open timbers passed by. The winter waters were still and slate gray, the party boats gone for the season. “How can you be so calm?”
“I had a couple of hours to work through it before you arrived. And I wasn’t the one he stole from.” Adam paused, then added, “At least, not directly.”
Kayla felt a hint of warmth touch a spot that had been frozen since seeing Geoffrey’s photograph. She did not care what name the detective might give to the thief. To her, he remained Geoffrey Rambling, the man who used his looks and his smile to lie a
nd steal and destroy.
She said, “I have to tell Daddy.”
“Not yet.”
“What?”
“He’s still at the office. The company is still in crisis mode. And I’ve been fired, remember?”
Kayla glanced at her watch. It was not yet four o’clock. Which was impossible. The day already seemed eons in length.
Adam said, “On the way out, you said you’d spoken with Honor.”
“I don’t want to talk about that now. I can’t.”
“Just tell me this. Was I right to call and speak with you like I did?”
She wanted to push it away. Her mind was too full. But Adam’s face was tense with an expectancy so powerful it looked almost like worry. “Yes. You were.”
“Great. That’s great.”
“What made you say what you did?”
He hesitated a fraction, then replied, “I had a tutorial.”
“What?”
Adam said, “It would make more sense if I showed you.”
Adam found a spot for her father’s big Mercedes just down the road from the boardinghouse where he lived. He sat looking at her reflectively.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I know this has been a really hard day for you.”
“You could say that.”
“If you want to stay in the car, it’s okay. But I’d really like it if you could come in with me.”
“You want me to sit in on a tutorial you’re having with Dr. Beachley?”
“That’s what she calls it.”
“What’s your name for it, then?”
“All I can tell you is, she makes me think in different ways. Will you come?”
When they entered the front parlor, the professor’s delight was evident in her voice. “Young Master Wright. And you brought Kayla. How splendid. I fear you shall need to make your own tea. Mrs. Brandt has gone off to do some Christmas shopping for her grandchildren.”
“We don’t need anything.”
“Stuff and nonsense. It will do us all a world of good. You know where everything is, Master Wright.”
Adam sounded oddly formal. “I’d appreciate it if you’d call me Adam, ma’am.”
“Adam. The good china resides in the cupboard beside the boiler. And see if there’s not a fresh packet of Scottish shortbread in the pantry. My dear, perhaps you would be so kind as to turn on a lamp or two. The daylight is failing as fast as my eyes.”
Kayla switched on lamps made from whalebone and bronze. The light formed golden islands in a room of shadows and soft edges. The world beyond the gauze curtains was dappled gray.
“That’s much better. Come sit down and tell me how you are.”
Kayla took the horsehair chair opposite the round side table from the professor. “The day has been incredible.”
“I take it from your expression that this incredibleness is not altogether good.”
“No.”
“Nor welcome.”
“That’s a harder one.”
The professor reached over and patted her hand. “My dear, I wish I could tell you what it means to have you sit here with me. It is as though my fondest recollections have grown wings and flown into the present to keep me company.”
Kayla found the internal tumult calming somewhat. “Mother loved coming to see you. I remember when it was cold outside, you let me sit at your table and color in my books.”
Dr. Beachley cleared a corner of one eye. “You were such a dear child. And so very much like your mother. The resemblance was quite astonishing. Then and now.” Dr. Beachley beamed as Adam brought in a tray. “How nice. I’m sure your young man has prepared a splendid tea.”
Kayla felt an automatic desire to reject the words your young man. Especially today. But she remained silent as Adam set the tray on the table between them. He served tea to the ladies, then drew over a chair and poured another cup. By then it was too late, the words drifting in the parlor’s cozy atmosphere.
Your young man.
The professor asked Adam, “Have you been working on your topic, young man?”
“Yes.” Adam drew out the yellow sheets from his jacket pocket. He unfolded them carefully. “I’m not done yet.”
“With such questions, the answers may require a lifetime to be fully realized.” Her demeanor had altered subtly. The professor accepted the pages and set them on the table beside the tray. “I shall inspect these later. Can you summarize your findings for me?”
“I had to split the issue,” Adam replied. “First I needed to figure out how I got the initial parameters so wrong.”
“Not wrong, young man. Merely flawed. You did the best you could at the time. But you have grown beyond where you were. You now recognize your initial boundaries as inadequate. You seek to redraw your parameters. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“So. Flawed how?”
Adam set his cup back on the tray and bundled his hands into his lap. “I established parameters for love based on pain. Which meant I assumed love was the same as loss and helplessness and rage.”
“I don’t understand.” Kayla pointed at the pages on the tray. “All that work you were doing, I thought it was about Geoffrey working for my father’s company.”
“I don’t know how it all fits together. But my gut tells me that it does.”
The professor pressed gently, “You were speaking of how you had equated love with pain.”
“Not consciously. But that’s how I structured my life. I wasn’t going to be hurt. So I kept love out.”
The professor fumbled in the process of settling her cup on the tray. “So there are two parameters you are now questioning, are there not?”
“That love does not always bring pain.” Adam’s forehead creased with the effort of seeing the answer. “And I’ve been wrong to try and remain in total control.”
“Oh, I say,” the professor murmured. She reached over and gripped the cane leaning against the arm of her chair and began kneading the top. “Well. It would be unrealistic to assume that if you open your heart, your mind, the very essence of your being to another, that you can remain free from pain. Would you not agree?”
Adam rocked the entire upper half of his body. “Yes.”
“And yet there is the willingness, at least with some, to accept this risk of pain. How is that possible? Whatever would make such a peril worth taking?”
Adam continued to rock. Back and forth. His hands locked in his lap. His gaze inward. Distant.
“So. That is a question for another time. Now, young man. You said you had confronted another issue besides the flawed parameters themselves.”
When he cleared his throat, it sounded as though he was fighting against something locked around his air passage. “I need to figure out how to establish boundaries of love that are based on love, and not on fear. Not on experience. But on hope.”
Kayla felt as though she had become locked into an invisible cage. One fashioned by gentle words and a room of soft light and soothing shadows. She wanted to lash out, to remind them of what she had just discovered that day. To draw the discussion back to the jagged edges of a man who stole everything and now worked for her father’s enemy.
Instead, she was ensnared by a high-backed chair and a retired professor and a man who rocked now in silence. She wanted to weep, she wanted to reach out and grip this man so hard she could draw the goodness from him. Find in herself the ability to search as he was doing. Because she knew with utter certainty why Adam had wanted her to be with him here. And why he sought these impossible answers.
Impossible that he would ask this of her. To love. To hope. To reach beyond everything she had endured. Even today. Impossible.
Dr. Beachley allowed the silence to blanket them all for a moment, then said, “Knowing the proper question, defining the issue, is the essential element here. You have done a commendable job of that, young man. As I said, the answers may take a lifetime, or they may come with a blinding flash of
realization. But you are asking what you must in order to grow beyond the past.” Her hands were joined on the cane, softly rubbing the ivory handle. “I would award your first tutorial the highest possible grade.”
Adam tasted a smile. His gaze drifted up but did not quite connect with Kayla’s. “Thank you.”
Dr. Beachley broke the moment by turning and asking, “From your earlier comment, young lady, might I assume there is a different issue than Adam’s that has brought you here today?”
Adam looked at her now. “I’ll tell her if you want. But I think you should.”
“Tell her?”
“About Derek and your project.”
“Geoffrey,” she corrected faintly.
Adam nodded. “Geoffrey,” he agreed.
“So,” the professor said. “Now I have two students. How excel-lent. Some queries proceed so much better if they are shared.”
Kayla found no logic whatsoever in speaking about the day with this woman who was a friend of her mother’s yet a stranger to her present life. But the act of listening to Adam had left her without the ability to close herself off. What was the word that Adam had used? Parameters. The boundaries of her life had been fractured, such that Kayla found herself relating the day, and then answering further questions about her project and her father’s company and their involvement, and the theft. And where she had just come from. And what she had just witnessed. She spoke in parcels that were rather breathless and often not in complete sentences. The professor listened with an intensity matched by the force within Adam’s dark gaze.
When Kayla finished, the professor said, “Before Adam’s first tutorial, I mentioned a dilemma another of my former students is currently facing. One for which I had no answer save prayer. But what I have heard from you two today, I can only take as a sign that here in this room lies the solution to my former student’s problem. She is a biochemist doing quite remarkable research on the eradication of pain. Yet she has been severely scalded by some underhanded dealings.” She kneaded the head of her cane, staring into the distance. She then took a long breath and straightened in her chair. “On that matter I must speak with her and come back to you. In the meantime, I shall begin your next assignment by sharing with you a bit of history. The house you see here was purchased with your father’s help.”
