As they climbed the stairs to the front door of the tailor shop, they both resettled their hats lower on their faces. Alfric waited for her to slip her shoes back on before opening the door and entering the cool, dim space.
Raia was standing on a platform in front of a multi-sided mirror. The little tailor was busily chalking the hem of the white suit they’d seen hanging on the rack the day before. He looked up at them and smiled. “Hewwo, hewwo. Wewcome!”
Alfric inclined his head without speaking.
“I be with you in minute?”
“Take your time, sugar,” Pleasance trilled.
Raia’s golden head turned slightly when she spoke and his long lashed blue eyes swept across them both, assessing. He seemed to find Alfric the more interesting of the two.
“Oh darlin’,” Pleasance exclaimed. “Look! It’s that beautiful white suit we admired yesterday.” She walked closer to Raia and clapped her hands, hopping around with excitement. “I’m more convinced than ever that you need one of these pretty suits, Dargen.”
Alf winced. He’d told her he wasn’t going to be a damned Dargen. He cocked his head at her and she bit her lip to keep from smiling. Then, he grinned evilly and retaliated. “Bambi dear, I just don’t know if I could pull off white.”
Pleasance coughed daintily behind one white-gloved hand.
“Au contrair, mon ami. You’d look quite dashing in white.” Raia had turned completely around and was pulling off the suit coat, apparently ready to offer it to Alfric to try on. He stepped forward with it, holding it toward Alf. “Please, try it on. I insist.”
Keeping his head low so Raia couldn’t see his face beneath the wide brim, Alfric glanced at Pleasance and she nodded eagerly. Her eyes were well hidden by the stupid hat, but her soft mouth puckered beneath its shadow with humor.
He pulled the pink jacket off and reached for the white one. “I thank ya kindly sir,” he drawled.
Raia watched as the pink nightmare came off, exposing Alfric’s wide, muscular chest to view under the tight, white dress shirt. He licked his lips appreciatively.
Pinned under the other man’s unhealthy regard, Alfric felt slightly sick. He threw Pleasance a glare and she coughed again behind her hand.
Alfric slid the coat on and it was predictably tight across the shoulders. Raia stepped forward to smooth the shoulders, trying to peer under Alfric’s hat to see his face better. “The coat molds well to your muscles, mon ami.” The terrorist’s pretty blue eyes slid to Alfric’s mouth and his tongue came out again, licking pale, dry lips. “I didn’t catch your name.”
Alfric’s smile should have been clear warning to the man, but he was apparently too saturated in lustful thoughts to notice. Alf reached a hand toward Raia, as if offering to shake, and then jerked him around when their hands clasped. With a single, violent twist he had Raia’s arms twisted behind him. Raia made girl noises as Pleasance ran to the door to signal Brita. Alfric shoved the smaller man to the floor beneath him.
“Alfric Honeybun,” Alf said as Brita burst into the small room with her gun drawn. “I believe we’ve already met.”
Chapter Nineteen
Bob Jones waved at one of his coworkers and continued on toward the hub. He knew it would be all but deserted that time of day. Only the young one would be there, and she would believe anything he said.
He knocked and waited for the snick of the lock before he shoved the door open. She was sitting in front of the console with a large, pink bubble exploding from between her lips. She turned to him and smiled as he entered, popping the bubble and sucking it back into her mouth. “Hey, Bob.”
He smiled at her, feeling as if his cheeks were made of stone. “Hey Candace.” He handed her the CD.
“What’s this?”
He shrugged, glancing around so he didn’t have to meet her eyes. “Apparently, this is the music they want us to play while the Senator’s here.”
She frowned. “First I’ve heard of that. Why does he need special music?”
Bob shrugged again, trying for a derisive chuckle and not pulling it off very well. “You know how politicians are.”
She watched his face for a moment. “You don’t look so good, Bob.”
He swiped a sleeve over his sweaty face. “I think I might be coming down with something.” He laughed weakly. “My luck it’s probably swine flu.”
Her pretty green eyes widened and she leaned away from him. “Well, you should go home then.”
He nodded. “You’re right. I think I will.” And maybe stay there for the rest of his life. Or at least until those thugs who took his daughter and blackmailed him into helping them were done doing whatever they were going to do.
Raia looked from Alfric to Brita and back to Alfric again. He shook his head, sending silky golden hair dancing around his narrow shoulders. He still wore the pinned and chalked trousers from his unfinished, white suit. “I assure you, Agent Honeybun, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m a simple, French diplomat with a fetish for white suits and pretty boys.” He shrugged. “That last bit is not widely known of course, but I’m telling you so that you’ll understand how silly it is to call me a terrorist. I’m a lover…not a killer.”
Alf lifted one eyebrow and fixed Raia with a hard, blue eye. “White suits and homosexual tendencies do not exclude you from the murder club, Raia, far from it. Some of the world’s most famous serial killers have been confused about their sexuality.”
The smaller man shrugged and examined an immaculate manicure.
Brita set her coffee mug down on the table and leaned back in her chair. She watched Raia for a moment and then said, “You’ll go to jail if you don’t start talking, Monsieur Raia.”
He snickered. “I have Diplomatic Immunity, Detective Muldane.”
Brita’s smile was not nice. “You’ve been sadly misinformed if you think you can do anything you want in this country and get away with it just because you have immunity.”
He shrugged, looking bored. Obviously he didn’t believe her.
“What do you know about the death of Agent James Wilkie?”
Raia shook his head, folding his small hands in front of him on the table. “I don’t know anyone of that name. Should I?”
Alf stood up and walked around the table, pacing behind Raia. He leaned over Raia’s shoulder suddenly, speaking close to the man’s ear. “He disappeared right after your little cocktail party several days ago, where he was last seen going after you. Funny about that little coincidence, eh?”
Raia turned his head and smiled. “I’m sorry, Agent Honeybun. I don’t know anything about a Mr. Wilkes.”
The two men stared at each other for a long moment. The only sign of Alf’s frustration was a flexing motion in his jaw. “I’m going to pin Agent Wilke’s death on you, Raia, and when I do, you won’t be returning to France to be tried. I’m going to make sure you stay right here, in the warm embrace of the United States prison system, for the rest of your miserable life.
Raia just shook his head, smiling.
Brita glanced at Alf before she played her trump card. “Ms. Roberts has already told us how you identify targets to your men around the country, Raia. You might as well tell us the rest and maybe you’ll win extradition back to France for your trial.”
Alfric glared at her. He’d told her before they entered the interrogation room that he wanted Pleasance left out of it. The last thing she needed was to have an even larger target painted on her back.
She stared back at him, willing him to stay quiet.
Raia just laughed.
They badgered him for two hours to no effect. He just sat quietly waiting for his lawyer to show up. When he did, Brita knew they were dead. Dilbert Palmer was one of the best defense lawyers in the country, with the political contacts to ensure that Raia would be released. Brita knew they had no real, physical evidence against him. All they had was the word of one young artist, who Brita knew was probably dangerously compromised by her own par
t in Raia’s schemes, and an agent who used to work for a little known government organization that had cut him loose. Her best hope had been that they could get the man to talk.
Brita growled low in her throat as she watched Jon-Luc Raia saunter out under his own steam an hour later. Alfric sat in a chair next to her desk and glared after them.
She dropped into her chair and scrubbed both hands over her face. “Now that he knows how close we are, Raia will either step up his plans or close up shop.” She lifted her head, fixing tired gold eyes on Alfric. “Either way we’re gonna have to be sharp to catch him.”
Alfric nodded and stood up. “I’ll get Pleasance and meet you at the house?”
Brita nodded.
“You’ll tell Percy?”
She lifted her weary gaze to him and grimaced. “Nope. You call him.”
Alf sighed. “Brita, he loves you…”
“And that’s not my problem,” she interrupted. “He made his choice.” She turned back to the paperwork on her desk and studiously ignored him until he gave up. He reached over and squeezed her shoulder before turning to leave. “See you at the house in an hour.”
“See ya.”
Brita lowered her head and didn’t watch him leave. Instead, she pretended an unwavering interest in the report she was filling out. When she was pretty sure he’d gone, she sniffled quietly, swiping at the moisture in her eyes before it could drop onto the paper on her desk. If she blurred the ink on the damn report she’d have to start over.
And for her, starting over was not an option.
Qamra stared hard at the little Frenchman, his cold, dark gaze willing the smaller man to look up. He fully intended to put the fear of Allah into the stupid, little man.
Raia settled a perfect, blond curl behind his ear with one finger and pulled the carefully steeped cup of tea closer. They’d stopped at Raia’s favorite tea shop after Qamra had picked him up from jail. Raia inhaled the soothing fragrance of the tea and smiled, closing his eyes in bliss.
Qamra’s dark face twisted. The man was more female than male. Tea. He was drinking tea like a girl. “What did you tell the police?”
Raia shrugged. “Nothing, of course.” He opened his eyes. “They know nothing. They were simply probing for information.” He shrugged and sipped his tea.
“The girl has told them about the paintings?”
Raia’s pretty, blue eyes sharpened. “She needs to be killed.”
Qamra just stared at the man. Of course she would be killed. Was he stupid? “They asked about the Agent?”
Raia nodded and picked up his tea again, obviously done with the interview. “You may leave.”
Qamra bit back the urge to leap from his chair and strangle the effeminate idiot. The man had temporarily regained the power edge because of Qamra’s wife. If Qamra didn’t cooperate, Raia would inform Qamra’s men that Cantara had been cheating on him. Then, he’d be forced to kill her to save his pride. So for the moment Qamra was biding his time and pretending submission.
But soon Raia would pay.
Tamarat smiled and Raia jerked at the sight, spilling tea on his sleeve.
Qamra stood up and inclined his head submissively. “As you wish, boss.”
Raia watched the man go with a speculative gaze. Tamarat climbed into the back of the limousine and it drove away, leaving Raia’s Porsche in the parking lot as instructed.
Tamarat was a wild card. A fanatic. He would step on or over anyone who got in his way to reach his ends. By contrast, Raia was a businessman. He knew the value of patience and being thorough. And right at that moment he knew there was one detail he needed to take care of. A detail that he couldn’t afford Tamarat to discover or the man would happily use it against him.
Raia slid a hand into his coat pocket and fondled the small gun Tamarat had brought him. He would go take care of that detail in a moment. First things first, however. Leaving a full cup of perfectly made tea behind would be uncivilized behavior.
And he prided himself on being a civilized man.
Qamra instructed the driver to pull into a parking lot down the street and wait. Raia was up to something. And Tamarat had a need to know what it was. Besides, he owed Raia something. And he was going to make sure the man got it. Before the sun set on another day.
Pleasance paid the cab driver and climbed out, looking around her neighborhood for signs of Raia’s or even Brita’s men. Nobody in the exclusive neighborhood seemed overly interested in her presence there. She took a deep breath and headed up the stairs to her brownstone townhouse.
As she reached the landing, the pristine, white door of the townhouse next door swung open with a creak and Pleasance jumped.
A small, round face peered through the crack. “Oh, there you are, sugar. I was getting worried about you.”
Pleasance smiled at the elderly woman. “Hello, Mrs. Bond. How are you?”
The door opened another inch and the woman reached toward Pleasance. Pleasance reached across the ornate wrought iron railing to clasp the woman’s soft hand. “After those men came by, I thought something had happened to you.”
Pleasance frowned. “What men? What did they look like?”
The elderly woman described Qamra Tamarat and a couple of Raia’s other thugs pretty accurately.
“Did you speak to them?”
The older woman grimaced. “I didn’t like the looks of them so I didn’t open my door. I’m pretty sure I heard them moving around in your place a few minutes later though. There was some thumping and I thought it might be you, so I called over there. But you didn’t answer. And a few minutes later I heard your front door close and those men walked back down the stairs. They got into a big, black car and left.”
Pleasance grasped the other woman’s soft hand between both of hers. It felt so delicate and frail. “If you see those men again don’t open your door, Mrs. Bond. You were right not to trust them. They’re bad men. Just call the police if you see them. Okay?”
Mrs. Bond frowned. “Are you in some kind of trouble, dear?”
Pleasance shook her head. “I’m fine. I just need to get some things from my house and then I’ll be going away for a little while. Promise me you won’t let those men into your house.”
Mrs. Bond opened her mouth to question Pleasance further but she cut her off. “I need to go now, Mrs. Bond.” She used her key to unlock her front door and went inside quickly.
The house was cool and quiet, looking pretty much the same as it had the night she’d left it to go to Raia’s party. That night seemed so long ago now.
Pleasance tiptoed toward the kitchen and peered inside. Empty and quiet. She moved down the hall and looked first into the living room and then her office. The living room looked untouched. Her office had been tossed.
It was a mess. She gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. Her computer was a broken mess on the floor. The monitor was cracked and the cord had been ripped out of it. There were papers strewn everywhere and her shredder had been upended and the bits of paper spread across the floor. Every drawer in her desk had been opened and dumped, either on the desktop or all over the floor.
It was obvious Raia’s men had been looking for something.
Pleasance knew what it was.
She forced herself to turn away from the mess and hurry up the stairs to her bedroom. Moving quickly, she went to the closet and pulled her overnight bag down from the top shelf where she kept it. She threw the bag onto the bed and opened it. Then, she started shoving clothes into it in a haphazard fashion.
Next, she headed toward the bathroom and grabbed what she needed there. Returning to her room she dumped her toothbrush, cleansing foam, and makeup into the bag. She was zipping it up when she heard a tiny noise behind her.
Pleasance whipped around with a gasp. That was when she realized the sound she’d heard was the click of a safety being released on a small, deadly looking, black gun.
Brita was putting the finishing touches on her report when
Alfric barged back into the bullpen. He was moving so fast and had such a scary look on his face a couple of cops stood up and grabbed their guns.
Brita knew what he was gonna say before he said it. “Damn! What did they do…pull her right out of the police station?”
They’d left Pleasance sitting in another interrogation room while they talked to Raia. The last thing they’d expected was that she would run.
Alfric shook his head. “Bonnie saw her climb into a cab outside. She appeared to be alone.” Bonnie was the desk clerk in the office, where gun permits were handled and parolee’s processed.
Brita grabbed her phone. “What cab company?”
“Quick.”
She glared at him. “I’m trying to be quick but I need the name of the cab company.”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “The cab company is Quick Cabs.”
Brita gave him a sheepish smile. “Oh. Sorry.” It took only a three minute conversation to get the address the cab had delivered Pleasance to. Jotting the street and number down on a small slip of paper, Brita grabbed her stuff off the desk and turned toward the door. “Let’s go. I can get us there faster.”
Something ticked quietly from inside the colorful structure in Legoland.
Around the brightly colored building made of real Legos, the largest mall in the United States stretched and yawned and prepared for its day. Clerks pulled metal screens from the fronts of over five hundreds shops and stores. Twenty feet away, a janitor polished the floor around the colorful display.
The digital clock inside the structure read five hours, fifty two minutes, and six seconds. When the display clicked down to zero, upward of five thousand people would be happily ensconced under the glass ceiling of the giant mall.
And many of them would die.
Chapter Twenty
“Where is it?”
Pleasance stood completely still, afraid to move for fear his finger would slip on the trigger of the gun. She licked her lips, thinking fast. Finally, she decided all she could do was stall and lie. She shook her head slightly, allowing all the fear she felt to flood her eyes so he’d assume she was too scared to lie to him. “Where’s what? I don’t have anything. You already stole all the paintings and my records.”
Life Liberty and the Pursuit of a Honeybun Page 16
