Notorious in Nice

by Jianne Carlo

  “Terrence, it’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The young man shrugged off Thomas’s arm and stepped forward, hand outstretched.

  Breathing hitched, she prayed, fingers curling into a tight ball, and let out a long sigh when Terrence shook the man’s hand.

  “And you must be Su-Lin. I have also heard about you, albeit only recently.” He hopped in the water, making a little splash, and bowed at the waist. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

  “Did you like the map?” Su-Lin asked, surprised by the Frenchman’s flawless Bostonian-accented English.

  “Very much so.” He grinned, a flash of pearly whites showing through a one-sided smile. “My Thom indulges my hobbies, I’m afraid. He spoils me dreadfully.”

  Fascinated by the softening of Thomas’s flattened mouth, the gentle glance he and Jean-Michel exchanged, Su-Lin checked Terry’s expression. He hadn’t said a word.

  “Have you told him?” Terry’s tone held a hint of steel.

  “I know,” Jean-Michel said. “And I’ll be coming to New York with Thom for the operation. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “No.”

  “Aren’t you two cold?” Su-Lin asked.

  “Water’s heated, see the steam?” Jean-Michel waved a hand at the fountain.

  “What was last night’s emergency?”

  “Jean-Michel threatened to come to the ball in drag.” Thomas’s scowl rivaled Terry’s, and both men’s eyebrows slashed together. “Why are you here?”

  “You weren’t answering my calls.”

  “My battery died, and I left my charger behind. Sorry. Didn’t mean to worry you,” Thomas said, and he stomped forward, caught Jean-Michel’s hand in his, and helped him out of the fountain. “Let’s go inside. Have a drink with us?”

  “We’d love to,” Su-Lin replied, sidling closer to Terrence. “Thank you.”

  Striding barefoot up the path, Thomas and Jean-Michel didn’t take the main staircase to the balcony but traipsed around the corner of the left side of the château. Thomas shot them a glance over his shoulder.

  “The pool entrance is this way.”

  Terry and Su-Lin followed; she tugged on his arm. “Are you going to be okay? With Thomas and Jean-Michel?”

  “How long do you think they’ve been together?”

  She stumbled in surprise. “Awhile. He said Thomas indulges his hobbies. And the way they looked at each other. They know each other well. And they’re obviously in love.”

  They came upon an open set of sliding glass doors leading to an Olympic-sized pool. Chlorine hit her nose and she wrinkled it, trying not to sneeze. Thomas, a white towel slung low around his hips, another mopping at his neck and shoulders, pointed to an open archway.

  “Conservatory’s through those doors. Jean and I are going to grab a quick shower. Drinks and canapés should be out there too. Are you all right, honey?” Thomas ambled close enough to touch her cheek. “You look a little pale.”

  “I had to rush her to the hospital last night, Thom. Someone slipped her a Mickey at the ball. They had to pump her stomach.”

  “At a charity ball? Each couple paid ten grand just to attend. We aren’t talking about pauper guests here.”

  “A few of the ladies missed jewelry today, and they complained of feeling drunker than they thought they should have.”

  “Curiouser and curiouser. We need to analyze this situation. You two make yourselves comfortable. We’ll be with you shortly.”

  “The chlorine’s making my nose tingle,” Su-Lin murmured.

  “How are you feeling?” He cupped her elbow and led her through the doorway.

  “Much better.”

  Twenty steps later, she raised her face to the last rays of the sun. The octagonal-shaped, glassed-in area proved enchanting, filled with blooming flowers, pink azaleas, blue forget-me-nots, simple yellow daisies, and climbing jasmine. Decorated with overstuffed white chairs and matching ottomans, glass and wicker armoires framed the entrance to the area.

  “Come here, darlin’,” Terry said and pulled her to him. “I haven’t had you in my arms for the whole day, and I need a fix.”

  She buried her nose in his sweater. “You smell nice.”

  “So do you, especially your hair.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and then lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. “I like the way you smell here.” He peppered a line of open, moist kisses up her nape to one oversensitive earlobe and grazed on the plump skin there.

  Thomas cleared his throat.

  Su-Lin stifled a moan and pushed her hands against Terry’s chest. Her mouth curved into a wide smile, and she said, “I think you and your brother are very alike, Terrence O’Connor.”

  “I mentioned to him the other day that we probably share similar appetites, and he visibly blanched.” Thomas’s voice came from behind his twin. “Before we start to discuss this situation, let me just say, I won’t apologize for my lifestyle or for my relationship with Jean-Michel.” By the time he finished speaking, Jean-Michel had appeared at his side.

  “Thom, there’s no need,” his lover said. “Your brother is very protective of me, Terry, as you probably are of Su-Lin. But we’re all civilized, n’est-ce pas? I have a very fine Château d’Yquem, a 1983 vintage, that I have been saving for a special occasion.”

  “Are you up to wine, darlin’?” Terry turned so that they stood side by side, his arm around her waist, and his thumb stroked her side.

  “No, I think I’ll stick to water for the rest of today.”

  “Then we’ll save the d’Yquem for another occasion.”

  “Jean and I were going to have a few small appetizers, drink some wine, and barbecue a couple of steaks.” He checked his watch. “It’s almost five. Why don’t you two spend the night?”

  “You got a new one,” Su-Lin exclaimed and grabbed Thomas’s left hand. “I don’t recognize this brand, but it’s beautiful. Look, Terrence, it doesn’t have all your fancy dials, but it’s very different. Why’re you blushing, Thomas?”

  “I had it made for him,” Jean said. “I worked with a gentleman called Kees Engelbarts. He hand-makes watches. We came up with the design. Do you want to tell them, or should I?”

  Thomas’s complexion grew pinker, and his features mimicked that aw-shucks expression Harrison often wore.

  “Looks like I’m moving here, fingers crossed, after the operation.”

  “How often must I tell you, positive thoughts?” Jean linked their fingers. “I did not go through all the trouble of coming out to my family to lose you. We are going to grow old together, cher, and that’s all there is to it. Voilà.” Jean kissed the back of Thomas’s hand and flashed him a crooked half smile.

  “Would you prefer a Jameson, Ter? Jean-Michel has quite a selection, and he has a supply of vintage, hand-rolled Churchills made by HRH’s supplier.”

  Terry’s mouth curved. “You two live a decadent lifestyle.”

  “Non, we are not always like this. I have these few weeks with Thom, and we decided to make every second count. We don’t know how long his recovery will be. But tonight, you two have questions. Tell us what happened last night.”

  While Terry summarized what he and Suresh had pieced together, Jean-Michel served the twins whiskey, neat, and both men chose cigars.

  Su-Lin sipped on carbonated water with a slice of lemon, and Jean-Michel nursed a glass of Bordeaux burgundy. While the twins discussed different brands of cigars, she told Jean-Michel she’d prefer to have a simple salad as she still felt queasy. He murmured his understanding and assured her a salad always accompanied a meal at the Fragonard estate.

  Spirals of smoke puffed clouds above Thomas’s and Terrence’s heads. Both men sprawled in the same position, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, faces pointed to the domed glass ceiling each time they blew out a perfect circle.

  Jean-Michel drank his wine, one knee bent, bare foot resting on the edge of a white cushion. Su-Lin noticed his tanned toes curlin
g under Thomas’s thigh. Every so often, Thomas threw him a squinted warning, and his toes retreated.

  It felt like family.

  She snuggled closer to Terry, absorbing the warmth of his large, hard body, as the two men speculated and threw out different theories.

  “The absinthe bit puzzles me. The first time you’d heard of it was in Nice. Who else could have known that?” Thomas asked.

  “You didn’t mention anything about drinking absinthe in Nice.”

  “I didn’t drink it then. The words were on our umbrella, and I asked Thomas what it meant. He told me it was an aphrodisiac.” Heat scalded her cheeks. “I’m sure the whole thing is just a weird coincidence.”

  Terry shook his head. “I’m becoming as paranoid as Geoff, who by the way is using all the MI5 data banks to do his own digging. I spoke with him after Suresh.”

  “Where is Geoff?” she asked.

  “He had to fly back to London early this morning.”

  “Time for the steaks.” Jean-Michel tapped Thomas’ shoulder. “Your job, mon amour.”

  The minute they sat down to eat their charred-on-the-outside, bloody-on-the-inside bone-in ribeyes and Su-Lin’s salad, Terry’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the glowing LCD and hit receive. “What’s up, Geoff?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Terry heard the first few words Geoff said, and slid down in the chair, long legs scraping the tiled floor for purchase. He fought the natural arching of his eyebrows, the flattening of his lips, and any other obvious stunned reactions. Instead, he turned so Su-Lin couldn’t see any trace of his outraged fury. Stabbing mute with his thumb, he swiveled in his twin’s direction and asked, his voice gravel and dirt, “Thomas, is there a study? Someplace I can access the Internet?”

  “Of course. Su-Lin, Jean, go ahead and eat. I’ll show Ter the library, and then I’ll rejoin you.” Thomas frowned and angled his head in the direction of the sliding glass doors leading to the conservatory.

  Thigh muscles contracting, Terry lurched to his feet, punched another key, and spoke into the receiver, “Geoff, hang on. I’ll call you back in a few.”

  Fear coated his mouth, making it acrid to the point of nausea.

  As soon as they rounded out of the room, Terry grabbed his twin’s arm, pulled him into the first empty room he found, and snapped the door closed.

  “Su-Lin’s mother doesn’t have a brother. Annika Taylor was an only child. Geoff needs a photograph of James and Emma Lockheed, pronto.” He dragged sweaty palms through tangled locks and winced on a stubborn knot. “Jaysus, I never saw this coming.”

  Save for a brief dilation of his pupils, Thomas’s features remained neutral, and his legal training took over. “Your instincts were bang on, brother. Someone drugged her. Let’s get to the library. It’s down the hall to the right.”

  His twin led the way, and both men loped along in silence.

  Terry put a lid on his panic by focusing on repeated special-ops procedures much favored by the Americans in Afghanistan, and ended up in the library without knowing how he got there.

  Thomas went straight to a decanter-laden sideboard filled with liquids of all hues and colors. He lifted a crystal stopper off a diamond-cut, squat carafe and sniffed. “Cognac?”

  “Anything to get my heart started again. Pour, will you? I’m wound so fricking tight right now, I’m likely to throw the blasted bottle against a wall.”

  In the act of grasping two tumblers with four fingers, Thomas’s head jerked up, and his mouth pursed. “I’d say we both have it bad, brother. Maybe it’s time you started thinking about wedding bands.”

  Terry gulped down a mouthful of the heaviest air in the world. “Sod it, Thom, not the time, nor the place. Geoff wants me to call from a landline. You realize that if this information’s true, then the implications are mind-boggling.”

  “Get a grip, Ter. What in bleeding hell’s behind all of this?”

  Downing the liquor in one swig, Terry welcomed the stinging path it coursed to his listing gut. “Su-Lin can’t know about this until we figure out who the fricking hell those two characters are. What on earth could they possibly want with her?”

  He set the crystal down on the wooden counter with a thud.

  “If it’s true, this is a bleeding elaborate scheme. A significant sum of money must be involved. Trust me, after the last ten years of practicing criminal law, I can guarantee you a deception like this comes down to one or two motivators -- sex or greed, or both.”

  “Su-Lin’s the part that doesn’t make sense. She’s a small-town, unsophisticated girl.”

  “Let’s hear what Geoff has to say. Use that phone on the desk.” Thomas angled his chin to the right, indicating an ugly black phone. He refilled the two glasses and handed one to his brother. “My mind’s bouncing in half a dozen directions all at once. If Lockheed isn’t her uncle, why spend money taking a stranger on an expensive Mediterranean vacation?”

  Terry hit the LCD display on his cell phone and thumbed out Geoff’s private line on the old-fashioned landline’s black keys. “I’ll leave it on speaker.”

  Geoff answered on the first ring.

  “It’s me.”

  “Can you talk freely?”

  “Yes, we’re in the library. Thomas is here too. Spill it.”

  “I had our Hong Kong office check out the Lockheeds. We received the report an hour ago. The photo IDs in my e-mail don’t match either James or Emma. By the way, I forwarded the pics to your mobile. The real Lockheeds are a well-heeled British couple. He’s in construction, and his company built the new Hong Kong airport prior to the handover to the Chinese.”

  “How solid is this information?” Terry checked the in-box on his cell, sucked in an audible hiss, and inclined the LCD to Thomas’s point of view.

  “James Lockheed belongs to the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club. The British ambassador personally verified his identity.”

  “We see the photos, Geoff,” Thomas said. “Chalk and cheese. The genuine couple are tall and thin.”

  “Who the fricking hell are our two?”

  “It’s an ominous situation your lady love’s got herself into,” Geoff stated, his accent becoming more clipped as the conversation proceeded. “There’s more.”

  “Terrific. What?”

  “What do you know about very high-denomination treasury notes?”

  Geoff never wasted a single word, so Terry waited for the dots to connect even though the change of subject proved bizarre indeed. He slouched into a guest chair, crossed his ankles, and steepled his fingers on his flat belly.

  “The US offered them after World War II but discontinued using them in the late sixties.” In a black leather executive chair facing him, Thomas rested his elbows on spread knees and waved a what-if gesture. “Why do I get the feeling we’re here for the duration?”

  “Stifle your impatience, Thomas. Treasury notes are coupon bearer securities. To redeem the interest on the bond, the owner hands in a coupon and collects the money once a year. Approximately six weeks ago, a five-hundred-million coupon was presented to a bank in Columbus, Ohio. The name on the bond was Annika Taylor, Su-Lin’s mother.”

  Shocked into complete silence, Terry could only stare at the phone’s display, the white numbers on the phone’s keys , while his mind clipped into black holes. “To collect the money, the bond owner has to show proof of ownership from the purchase date of the bond and must claim the interest in person.”

  “What’re you saying?”

  “The bank’s security camera clearly identifies Annika Taylor when she claimed the money. According to Federal Reserve records, three notes with sequential serial numbers were purchased a while back. The first is in the name of Annika Taylor, and the other two are in the name of Jenny Taylor.”

  “How did you get this information?” Thomas asked, balancing his chin on intertwined fingers.

  “I ran a check on all of them, Su-Lin, her father, Annika, and the Lockheeds. Because of the fraud associat
ed with these bonds, banks have stringent reporting requirements, including notifying the Federal Reserve when a bond is redeemed. When I ran Annika’s Social Security number, the bank’s software cross-checked the Federal Reserve’s system, and it triggered fraud warnings.”

  “Su-Lin knows nothing of these bonds. I can guarantee that, Geoff. Her uncle says he’s going to settle a bond on her, and she’s so fricking grateful. She said it would be the first time in her life she won’t have to worry about money. ”

  “Add to that, the fact she told me she worked two jobs to support her mother.” Thomas drummed his fingers on the desk. “If her mother knew about these bonds, why did they live in poverty?”

  The whole scenario percolated, and Terry considered all the angles.

  “Su-Lin’s mother’s death started the ball rolling,” Terry said. “The lawyer who handled Annika’s will contacted the Lockheeds.”

  “How did her mother die?”

  “No clue, Geoff. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Exhume the body?”

  “Go back a few steps, you two.” Thomas held up a hand. “How did our James and Emma find out about the notes? I refuse to believe this is blind luck.”

  “Agreed, Thom. But even more importantly, how did they manage the claim? You said the bank’s security cameras have Annika on tape. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Su-Lin told me her mother was almost completely bedridden, and she was her only caregiver from what I’ve heard. According to Su-Lin, her aunt and uncle never met her mother. They arrived in the US four weeks after she died.”

  “Only one face on the tape, Annika’s.”

  “Run a check on the relatives’ passports. Maybe they came in earlier than they wanted Su-Lin to know.”

  “Homeland Security’s now involved in New York, and we’re checking everything on our end. She’s in danger, Terry. I’ll lay any odds those two impersonators will cash the other two bonds in, and I’m betting sooner rather than later.”

  “I fricking got that point, Geoff. We’re between a rock and a hard place. We can’t spike James or Emma’s suspicions, which means not telling Su-Lin anything. But we can’t allow her to be alone with them, not for a fricking minute.”