by Mary Birk
“Can you ask her to call me?”
“Does she have your number?”
“Of course she has my number, you fuck.”
“Then I’m sure she’ll call when she gets a chance. If she wants to talk to you, that is. Have a pleasant day.” Harry hung up the phone. He looked at her. “You’re not going to talk to him?”
She shrugged.
“You want me to beat him up?”
“Shut up, Harry.” She stood up and headed toward the lav.
He called after her, “Don’t take too long primping in there, princess, we’ve got work to do.”
The room was quiet, and Harry realized Frank and Oscar had been listening. He grinned, and gave a what-are-we-going-to-do-with-her look. “She’s going to get in trouble, our little Allison. She’s leaving a lot of frustrated blokes out there.”
Frank didn’t look amused. “That’s their problem.”
“I’m only saying what I’ve been told.”
“Which is?”
“She’s got a reputation as a bit of a cocktease. She acts hot, but turns them down when it comes to the point.”
“Just because she’s not like the girls you muck about with, doesn’t mean something’s wrong with her.”
Harry made a half serious sorry-if-I-offended-you face, wondering if he’d missed something. Harry had always seen Frank and Allison’s relationship as a father-daughter thing, but now he wondered if he’d gotten that wrong. Frank wasn’t that much older than Harry himself, probably in his mid-to-late thirties. His wife had left him after he’d become a paraplegic, but that didn’t mean Frank didn’t feel anything anymore. Was it possible Frank thought Allison and he might . . .?
Oscar took off his glasses and started cleaning them. “I’m with Frank. If the blokes she goes out with don’t get that she’s not a casual shag kind of girl, too bad on them. Besides, better to have that kind of a reputation than the other kind. Especially with a bunch of coppers who don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.” Oscar replaced his glasses. “When someone says something shitty to me about one of my teammates, I tell them to shut their gobs. I’d expect my teammates would do the same for me.”
Harry felt his face burning, knowing they had the right of it.
“Speaking of gossip,” Oscar said, “I heard Reid’s leaving us.”
“What?”
“Word is he’s going to head up MI-5 Scotland.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Harry felt like he’d been knocked over.
“Saw it on some internet chatter.”
Frank shook his head. “It’s not final yet.”
Harry couldn’t hide his shock. “You knew about this?”
“I see his appointments, and take his calls. Not hard to figure out.”
Harry’s chest tightened. “What about us? Our team? Shreve will get rid of us in a heartbeat if Reid isn’t here to run interference.”.
“Reid won’t leave us hanging.” Frank sounded confident. “This team is his baby. If he takes MI-5, it’ll be because he feels like he has to, not because he wants to.”
“Yeah, sure.” Harry tried to make his voice sound confident, like he didn’t care, instead of how he really felt, like he’d been thrown out of a building.
* * * * *
Lizzie had been force-fed a tranquilizer to make her docile about a half-an-hour before they arrived at the dock. The woman who called herself Mistress was with her, along with three guards. She’d been bathed, and her hair washed and arranged. She was dressed in a robe like she’d seen Muslim women wear, and a veil was draped across her mouth. Underneath the robe she wore the little toga she’d worn for the Christian martyr film they’d made of her. In her arms, she held the fourteen white lilies she’d asked to carry with her. She hadn’t told them why she’d chosen the number or kind of flowers. She doubted they knew the story of Saint Maria Goretti, or of how she’d appeared to her attacker after her death holding fourteen white lilies, and giving him her forgiveness.
The woman had been silent most of the way, not in her normal surly way, but in a different, more troubled way. When she helped Lizzie out of the limousine, she looked intently into Lizzie’s eyes. “I never would have given you to this man, if it had been up to me. Unfortunately, he offered the most money.”
“I understand.”
“He’s not a good man. Don’t make him angry. He’ll kill you.”
“May God forgive you.” Lizzie made the sign of the cross, feeling at peace. “I already have.”
Then, walking calmly toward the fishing barge where three men waited, she lifted her rosary to her lips.
Chapter 25
REID PLAYED Anne’s last message again on his mobile. He wished he hadn’t told her Paris. He hadn’t known where he was going when he made up his mind to leave, and Paris had been the first place that came to his mind. Then he’d thought of Stirling and ended up off the Spanish coast near Malaga. He should at least let Anne know where he was, but how to explain the change in his itinerary? Or that he really hadn’t gone for work?
He still hadn’t decided when he heard a knock on his cabin door.
“Terrence, fancy a drink before dinner?” John Stirling’s voice was casual, but Reid heard the note of worry. “It’ll just be us.” When he didn’t answer right away, Stirling added, “Turns out the ladies had a prior engagement they’d forgotten about. I’ve had them taken to shore.”
Reid wasn’t fooled. Stirling had gotten rid of his companions in deference to Reid’s presence, despite the fact that they, not Reid, had been his invited guests. He’d known Reid would be uncomfortable with a bunch of single women hanging around.
“Sure, I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
Reid changed into jeans and a t-shirt and went up to the top deck. Stirling was reading a book on one of the sofas.
“Don’t tell me even the perpetually young John Stirling has been reduced to using reading glasses?”
Stirling looked up, touching the frames of his glasses. “I’ve been told they make me look distinguished.”
“I’m sure you have. What’s the book?”
“It’s a professional journal, actually. A symposium on remediation of oil spills. Your sister-in-law’s one of the authors.”
Reid poured himself a drink. “Ah, Meg.”
“My research team is trying to enlist her to work on a project we have starting this summer. So far no luck.”
“Would it be in Scotland?”
“Aye. Aberdeen. Maybe the fair Anne could put a word in for us. It would mean having her sister closer.”
“I’ll mention it to her.” But, he wondered silently, would Anne still be in Scotland by then? Or would she have left to go back to California, back to Andrew Grainger?
Stirling put a bookmark in the journal and set it aside. “Do you know if Meg’s taken a job anywhere else?”
“Not that I know of. She may be waiting for her divorce to be finalized.”
“When will that be?”
“Sometime toward the end of the year.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not sure we can wait that long to hire.” Stirling raised his drink to his lips, took a small sip. “Are you going to tell me why the sudden visit, and why without your wife and the little prince?”
“Same old story.”
Stirling groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I wish I were.”
“Grainger?”
“Darby brought him to Glasgow, to the MacTavishes’ Easter do.”
“So?”
“He wants Anne back.”
“I repeat, so?”
“I’ve got to give her the freedom to make her own decision. I needed to get out of the way so she could decide what she wants without me there to influence her.”
“Are you barmy?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Why in blazes do you keep trying to get her to leave you?”
“I’m not. It’s just . . .”
�
�You’re one of the few men in the world who actually have what they want. For the love of God, stop trying to muck it up.”
“You don’t understand. After the party, she acted so different, so distant, with me.”
“She was probably worried you were going to kill him.”
“I wanted to.”
“You don’t think she knows that?”
“Probably.”
“You’d better call her.”
“I’m trying to give her some space.”
“You have no clue about what women want.”
“You think you’re telling me something I don’t know?”
“But you never seem to learn.”
“I have learned. That’s why I left.”
“Leaving her with another man doesn’t seem like progress to me.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re a hopeless case.”
“Thanks so much.”
“On a more manageable subject, what’s going on with the missing nanny case?”
Reid explained Harry’s theory. Stirling poured them both refills before answering.
“Harry might be right. There’s a big price tag on young white virgins in some of the Arab countries. Extra if they’re American.”
“American? Why’s that?”
“Rumor has it they’re uninhibited and adventurous.”
Reid raised his eyebrows.
“Don’t look at me, Reid. I’m not the one who married an American goddess.”
Reid smiled in spite of himself. “Shut up, you arse.”
“Right, then. Call your goddess, and afterwards, we’ll have dinner. Giving her freedom to choose doesn’t mean you have to step out of the picture. You’re one of her potential choices, aren’t you?”
Reid reached for his mobile, then pulled his hand away. “I’ll call her tomorrow. She’s busy finishing up a big proposal right now. I don’t want to disturb her.”
“You are completely clueless about women.”
“You’re one to talk. You still haven’t managed to get married.”
“Ah, but that’s because I don’t want to. I plan to die single.” Stirling got up and went over to the intercom. “I’ll have the cook start the steaks.”
TUESDAY, APRIL 6
Chapter 26
TABBY FELT LIKE she was on a wonderfully exciting adventure. She and Lady Anne were driving in one car, and Sebastian, the bodyguard who was also the housekeeper, followed them in another. He was such a hunk—big, dark-skinned, and super-hot. His arms were thick with muscles but when he held the baby, he looked gentle. She was sure he wasn’t gay, and he didn’t have a wedding ring on. Her mother wouldn’t approve of her getting involved with a black man, but it had been a long time since Tabby gave a rip about what her mother thought. That life was behind her; she was entering a whole new world. A world of rich men and big homes and housekeepers and bodyguards. A world of endless possibilities.
Lady Anne was speaking to Sebastian right now on the car’s speaker phone. He’d called, and after ignoring the ringing for a while, Lady Anne sighed, rolled her eyes, and answered. Her voice was patient, her face unperturbed, although Sebastian seemed exasperated with her choice of route.
“I know what Terrence said, but I just want to drive by it. It’s not out of the way and it’s on a public road. I won’t stop this time.”
“He doesn’t want you on this road. He was very clear.”
“He wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.”
“He’ll mind.”
“He won’t know unless you tell him.”
“I’ll have to, and you know it.”
“Blame me. Tell him you did your best, but there was no stopping me. Besides, I’m sure the place is deserted.”
The phone disconnected on the other side. Sebastian was not one bit happy with Lady Anne right now.
Tabby studied her new, temporary employer. Anne Reid was breathtakingly beautiful, although she looked a little tired. She’d been up late, she said, finishing her garden plans. Sebastian had made breakfast and they all let Lady Anne sleep in. The baby had eaten a huge bowl of rice cereal, then Tabby mashed up a banana, and he snarfed that up, too.
She and Sebastian had laughed themselves silly over Michael’s almost maniacal glee with his new food, but Lady Anne had seemed disappointed that the baby hadn’t cared about nursing when she woke up. Tabby didn’t get it; Lady Anne should be glad that soon the baby wouldn’t be nursing anymore. It had to be a little bit of a drag, having a baby pulling on you all the time. Especially when she had a husband like Lord Reid who could be touching her instead.
Maybe, though, Tabby thought, Lady Anne’s husband didn’t want to touch her anymore. Maybe that’s why he went on trips to Paris without her. Tabby had read that some men got turned off when their wives became mothers, in which case maybe he’d be interested in someone new, someone younger. Someone like Tabby. She imagined Lord Reid coming to her bed and running his hands along her body, and doing the same to him. It would be much more exciting than running her hands along Peter’s still-protruding tummy, though she doubted Lord Reid would be quite so grateful. He probably got a lot more offers than Peter.
Lady Anne’s voice interrupted Tabby’s fantasies. “I understand you know one of the nannies who’ve gone missing.”
“Yes, Lizzie Frost. We’re really good friends.” Tabby thought she could be forgiven for the slight exaggeration.
“You must be very upset.”
Tabby was torn. Should she be honest and say she wasn’t worried, or play the more rewarding role of distressed best friend? She decided on, “I’m worried, but I have a feeling she’s okay.”
Lady Anne turned toward her, and Tabby wished her own eyes were that clear, deep blue. “You think she left on her own?”
“I wouldn’t blame her. That house was awful. Five kids and the parents didn’t help at all, plus she had to do a lot of the cleaning and all the laundry.”
“Wouldn’t she have told her mother where she was going?”
“I wouldn’t tell mine.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“No way.”
“You and she don’t get along?”
“She’s got a live-in boyfriend. He’s a jerk.”
“What about your father?”
Tabby leaned back to check on the baby. He was still asleep. If he was always this good, she’d have an easy week. “My parents divorced when I was a baby. My dad split, never to be heard from again.”
“That’s too bad.”
“He’s probably a jerk, too. I suppose your parents are still married.”
“My father died when I was eight, and my mom never remarried.”
“She must have had boyfriends?”
“If she did, she never told us,” Lady Anne said. “I don’t know if she’s even had a date since my father died.”
“Lucky you. This guy my mom’s with doesn’t even have a job. Just hangs around the house all day, bossing me around.” Tabby was happy now about having been sent away. If she never had to put her mouth on Fred again, she’d die happy. He wasn’t even good-looking. If he ever tried to shove her face onto him again, she’d make him sorry.
“That sounds awful.”
“Yeah.” Tabby reached into her purse and pulled out her lip gloss, put it on, then glanced back at the car following them. “Why do you need a bodyguard?”
“It’s not really for me. It’s more for kidnapping protection for that little traitor back there who prefers rice cereal and bananas to his mother.”
“Oh, right.” Tabby remembered the news stories. “I’m sorry about that little girl.”
Lady Anne nodded and bit her lip. “Her name was Lenore.”
“Does Sebastian carry a gun?”
“Yes.” When Tabby didn’t say anything, Lady Anne turned to her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not scared; I think it’s great. Not all parents care about protecting their kids.” Tabby�
��s mother sure hadn’t protected her. She’d all but told her to let Fred do anything he wanted so long as he never touched her between her legs, or put himself inside her. Her mother would go to work, or to bed with a headache, and Fred would come to Tabby. For a while, Tabby had even kind of liked it. She’d liked that he wanted her instead of her mother, but she didn’t like that he made her do all the work, while he had all the fun. Never again, Fred.
Lady Anne’s voice interrupted her thoughts, gesturing toward a big house with an iron gate guarding the driveway, and slowing the car down to a crawl. “I renovated the gardens there last year.”
Tabby turned in her seat to see. “Nice. What’s that big stone thing supposed to be?” It looked like photos she’d seen of the Washington Monument, only smaller, and with a ball on top. It was kind of cool, the way it set off the big house behind it.
“I’m not sure it’s supposed to be anything. It was put there in the 1940’s; we just had it repaired. But it looks great at night when it’s lit up. Water comes out of over fifty different spots all the way down and around the sculpture, and then into the reflecting pool.”
“I like it.” She wouldn’t mind living in a house like that.
“Not my style, but it’s got clean, modern lines.”
Tabby thought it might be her style. No more crappy little apartments for her. One way or the other, she was never going back.
Sebastian hit the horn, and Lady Anne hit the accelerator, muttering about over-protective men.
* * * * *
Harry tried to contain his frustration. Frank had hit a brick wall trying to get the subpoena for the chat room’s internet provider. Shortly after that, Allison announced that she couldn’t access the chat room anymore. Harry tried himself, and realized that it wasn’t that the password had been changed, but that the whole chat room seemed to have disappeared.
Their research on the market for Caucasian virgins had been more successful. They were definitely a hot ticket item. Harry had received an email early that morning from Reid with intelligence information about rich African buyers interested especially in American girls. Intelligence, Harry surmised, that Reid had gotten from Stirling, as Reid’s message said he’d changed his plans, and hadn’t gone to Paris, but was working in Malaga on John Stirling’s yacht. Reid hadn’t given any explanation about why his plans had changed, or what he was doing off the coast of Spain. Nor had he mentioned his plans to desert the team.
