A threat was a threat no matter how nicely worded it was. He’d been in the business far too long not to recognize the subtle threats that his clients tossed his way after they upped his percentages to obscene amounts of money. More than he could ever spend in his lifetime.
Those same clients had their lifestyles in place, their money secured, their very lives shielded by layers and layers of protection while he was front and center as he scrambled twenty-four hours a day to make sure he kept both feet two steps ahead of the law. They were just waiting for him to make a mistake, and in his present frame of mind, it was just a matter of time before he slipped.
He knew he had been on the FBI’s radar screen for some time, knew it was just a matter of time before they made a move on him. He’d tried to warn his greedy clients, but they’d refused to listen. Because they refused to listen, he’d canceled his trip to the States. If his situation didn’t improve quickly, he would probably have to cancel his Christmas trip, too.
He realized that he was sweating even though the air-conditioning was turned to the coolest setting. Now he was going to have to change his shirt again. He thought he could smell his own fear as he ripped at the shirt he was wearing, a simple, fine linen, round-necked shirt that cost four hundred dollars. He was addicted to fine, costly things. It was the reason he worked on the wrong side of the law.
His diamond-studded Rolex watch told him he had just enough time to change his shirt, repack his bag, attach the manacled briefcase that his clients demanded he use to his wrist, and go downstairs to wait for the chauffeured car that would take him to the airport and his Gulfstream.
He was an attractive man, one men envied and women fawned over. Tall and lean, with sharp-chiseled features, penetrating gray eyes that could turn steely as flint, perfect ruler-straight teeth, and a crop of slightly wavy hair that was all his own. He tipped the scales at 180 and was perfectly proportioned for his six-foot height. He wore a year-round bronzed tan that flirted with his graying temples. More than one person told him he could have posed for Town & Country or GQ, a compliment so pleasing to him that he traded on it when necessary.
Jonathan gazed at his reflection in the mirror as his mind continued to race. Satisfied that he looked his impeccable self, he snapped the cuff onto his wrist, picked up his case, and started for the door. There was no time to wait for a bellhop. He’d cut it a shade too close this time around. He wondered why that was. Maybe because he was jittery, his nerves twanging for some reason. He’d been fine until the last few phone calls to Lucy. His stomach had protested by tightening up after their conversations because he’d heard something in his fiancée’s voice he’d never heard before. That was when he’d started to feel uneasy, and the feeling remained with him.
As he rode down in the elevator, Jonathan thought about his fiancée. It wasn’t like Lucy to be so careless that she’d fall and sprain her ankle. She was a runner, a true athlete. She was like a gazelle in motion. No, it was unlike Lucy to fall. Her voice had been so cool. On second thought, cool was the wrong word. The right word was strained. Now why would Lucy’s voice be strained? Unless…unless someone was around asking questions or somehow she had gotten some notion of the real reason he’d had her sign all those papers a year ago. He needed to call Lucy again to see if he was being paranoid or his survival instincts were on the money.
Jonathan stepped out of the elevator into the marble-and-tile lobby of the hotel. His gaze raked the interior of the lobby until he found the chauffeur standing near the wide double doors. He held up his hand. Within seconds the driver had his bag in his hand and was striding toward a luxurious Mercedes-Benz. A Mercedes-Benz and an experienced chauffeur were always at Jonathan’s disposal.
Outside, Chile’s humidity slapped Jonathan in the face. Perspiration beaded on his brow as he stepped into the icy-cold air-conditioning of the car. His destination, Zurich, Switzerland, for a nine-hour stay, then on to Mexico, where he would meet with his new client, back to Zurich for six hours, then on to Cairo. Within a week he’d probably have pneumonia. He constantly amazed himself at how he managed to stay hale and hearty with all the traveling from one intense climate to another. Hot to cold. Cold to hot. A good way to get sick. Maybe it was all the airtime or the rich food or…something else, but the past week he’d felt unlike himself. Almost as if a bug were creeping up on him in slow motion. He’d been popping aspirin by the handful to ward off whatever it was. Like aspirin could ward off fear.
Five minutes later, his baggage was stowed, his briefcase on his lap. He leaned back and closed his eyes for the 25-km ride from Santiago to Rudahauel, where the Gulfstream was waiting for him. His mind wandered back to his fiancée.
There was no way in hell she could know anything. His organization had so many firewalls installed that even he had trouble sometimes understanding the scope of his many operations. He definitely needed to call Lucy again just to satisfy himself that their relationship was on firm ground and it was only his imagination working overtime. The minute the Gulfstream reached its cruising altitude, he would call Lucy, regardless of the time difference.
Fifty minutes later the Gulfstream reached its cruising altitude. Jonathan undid his seat belt and motioned to the lone steward that he’d like a drink and a sandwich. While he drank and chewed his way through roast beef with mustard on fresh-baked bread, he thought about his fiancée and their upcoming wedding. Being married would make him more human in his clients’ eyes. He also knew if he wasn’t careful, being married could be dangerous. For Lucy more so than himself. Disgruntled, aggressive clients tended to get nasty and from time to time threatened to take out that nastiness on family members. Jonathan shrugged. Life was full of nasty surprises. Getting married probably wasn’t one of his better decisions, but once he’d made up his mind, all his future plans quickly fell into place. The fact that Lucy was a top-notch attorney was a plus he couldn’t deny. It wasn’t written in stone that he had to be in love to get married. He needed Lucy, needed her respectability, her background. And for a while he’d have a woman in his bed. When it was time for her to go, she would go. It was that simple. Would he shed any tears when that happened? Perhaps in public.
Jonathan shook his head to clear his thoughts, but somehow Lucy stayed right there with him. What really surprised him about Lucy was as smart as she was, she hadn’t picked up on anything. He chuckled to himself. Maybe when the lovebug bites a woman she doesn’t think about anything else.
At best, life with sweet Lucy would be boring, but that was what he needed. For a while, at least. But there was no way in hell he was going to live in that saltbox of a house she had bought in Edison, New Jersey. He’d go out of his mind in twenty-four hours if he had to live in a two-thousand-square-foot house. If the timing was right, and if things progressed the way he wanted them to, he might give serious thought to opening the house in Watchung.
Jonathan thought about his parents, who’d lived in a small house much like the one Lucy now lived in. His father had worked his whole life in the Firestone rubber factory in Akron. His parents had struggled to pay their mortgage, make car payments, meet other household expenses, while still trying to donate 10 percent of their salary to the church. The first chance he got, he moved them to the other side of the world, where they lived in the lap of luxury. He was a good son. He called regularly and tried to visit at least once every two months for a few days.
His fiancée had simple tastes: she wasn’t into designer clothing, jewelry, or fancy cars. She considered it all a waste of money, preferring to sock her money into a pension fund.
The dog was going to have to go, though. He would never live in a house that had a dog. That might pose a problem, with Lucy being such a dog lover. He could take care of that.
He’d told Lucy he wanted children, but he had lied. He’d been stunned when she said children were not in her immediate plans. That had clinched the engagement. It didn’t hurt that Lucy was a lawyer, one of the best in Manhattan, according to
his sources—sources who knew about such things. Her brother Steven was almost as good as Lucy in the courtroom. He remembered how angry he’d been when Lucy had said she was chucking the law. He’d called her stupid that day, and she hadn’t really gotten angry. He was going to need her legal expertise at some point. How she could turn down representing some of his clients on the shady side of the law for big bucks boggled his mind. Her knowledge of the law was one of the reasons he’d chosen her. The day he’d met her on the tennis court had been planned in great detail, and she’d never even suspected. Maybe he gave her too much credit for being smart. Maybe his original assessment that she was stupid was spot on.
Jonathan could feel his stomach muscles start to tighten up. Something, somewhere, was amiss. Had he made a mistake? More to the point, had one of his clients made a mistake that could lead back to him? In the twenty years since he’d started JSC Enterprises, he had never before been fearful. He could feel the fear, smell it; it was starting to choke him.
Jonathan unlocked the cuff on his wrist, massaged it gently, then opened his briefcase on the tray in front of him. He withdrew a digitally encrypted satellite phone and speed-dialed Lucy’s home number. He listened to the phone ring eight times before her voice mail clicked on. His brows knitted together as he tried to imagine where she was and what she was doing. If she had the flu, she might be sleeping. He grimaced at the thought. The phone was a lifeline to Lucy just the way it was to him. If she was there, she would have answered the phone. It was a long flight, he could always call later.
Jonathan pulled out his laptop, flexed his fingers. While he was by no means a bean counter or number cruncher, he did know what his assets were, down to the penny. He smiled as a blizzard of numbers raced across the screen. It would take him a lifetime to spend all the money he’d accumulated even if he spent a million dollars a day. He might be exaggerating but if so, it wasn’t by much.
He hoped he lived long enough to spend it all.
• • •
Lucy sat in front of the fire hugging her knees, tears dripping down her cheeks. She needed to get a grip on her life, figure out what she was going to do and stop relying on other people, well-meaning or not, to help her. When the agents arrived, she needed to act like the lawyer she was instead of this wishy-washy person she’d turned into in less than a week. A sob escaped her throat. A second later, the three dogs were circling her, Lulu leaping into her lap. Sadie pressed against her side, Coop’s big paws circled her neck. They whined, their bodies shaking at the strange sounds coming from her mouth. She spread her arms to encircle all three dogs, then laughed as she wiped at her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt. “I’m okay. Just a bad moment there. The bridal shop called to tell me my wedding gown is ready for my final fitting. If you stop and think about it, that’s pretty damn funny from where I’m sitting.”
Fear was for other people, not a savvy, high-priced lawyer like her. In the blink of an eye, she disengaged herself from the dogs and went up the steps, landing with a painful thump on her tender ankle. She ignored the pain as she limped into her bedroom, stripped down, and decked herself out in a long, paisley skirt with a delicious thigh-high slit up the side. She stepped into suede boots, mindful of her ankle, and donned a pumpkin-colored cashmere sweater. A lustrous set of pearls found their way to her neck, as did matching earrings.
In the bathroom she undid the ponytail and brushed her hair till it framed her face like a nimbus. Reaching for the atomizer, she spritzed the air and stood under the fragrant spray. Now she was ready for the federal agents.
The dogs followed her down the steps just as the doorbell rang. Lucy made one stop at the sofa to turn on the small cassette player, then placed it between the cushions where she planned to sit.
Through the beveled glass at the side of the front door, Lucy could see the same trio who had grilled her on Friday. They looked like they were freezing. Good.
Lucy glanced at her reflection in the mirror hanging in the foyer. She smacked her lips and wiggled them to distribute her lipstick evenly. She did her best to feather her eyebrows with her pinkie finger, fluffed her hair, and smoothed down her skirt. A wasted minute. She opened the door, her expression cold and hostile as she motioned the agents inside. The dogs sniffed and growled, but they didn’t bark. They did follow her to the living room and took up positions at her feet, their eyes wary, their ears flat against their heads. Even Lulu’s perky pink bow seemed to wilt.
Her eyes still cold and angry, Lucy crossed her arms over her chest. In body language it meant, take your best shot, but you aren’t getting anything out of me because I don’t know anything. She waited, staring first at one agent, then the other, and on to the third. The same way she stared at prosecution witnesses in the courtroom. Most of the time it unnerved people.
And then her head started to buzz. She could feel a distinct ringing in her ears, too. The sound was the same as when her brother Steven turned on his electric razor. She cautioned herself not to panic as she took long, relaxing breaths. She was partially successful. My anger or theirs? she wondered.
Then it hit her in a jumble of thoughts. The Chinese fire drill was back but in low gear. She could have been in Madison Square Garden or Shea Stadium, listening to a hundred people all talking at once. Concentrate, she told herself. Don’t think, make your mind blank. Listen. It was hopeless, nothing was coming through, and she suddenly felt stupid because she didn’t know what her expression was giving away.
To calm her twanging nerves, Lucy stood up and walked behind the sofa, where she had a good look at all three agents from higher ground. She liked to stand when she interviewed witnesses or cross-examined them. Those seated were always at a disadvantage. The person standing was the power person. “Well?” she said coldly.
There it is, she thought with elation. Maybe changing position has something to do with it. She felt like laughing out loud. No prairie flower…she’s had time to think…hard as nails…no backup…classy skirt…cost more than I make in a month…she’s not going to cave…she looks like she knows something we don’t…. dogs…not killer dogs…not guard dogs…where’s the neighbor…I’m never going to get warm again…hit her hard…right between the eyes…no wiggle room…give her just enough rope…throw out a carrot…offer a deal…maybe she isn’t as dumb as she looks. I wish I was on some warm island somewhere.
Lucy started to tingle all over. She could hear them thinking, but she couldn’t pin down which thoughts belonged to whom. She waited, feeling almost giddy at what she was hearing.
“How would you like to cut a deal, Miss Baker?” Agent Lawrence asked.
The chaotic transmissions—that was how she thought of what she was experiencing—suddenly stopped. She felt normal again. It might be a good time to throw all three of the agents for a loop. “I really am smarter than I look, Agent Lawrence. Throwing a carrot my way isn’t going to get me to tell you something I don’t know. You could toss me twenty miles of rope, and it isn’t going to make a difference. I’m a lawyer, and I know my rights. As a lawyer, I am always open to negotiations. What’s the deal?” she snapped.
Special Agent Connors reared back in her chair as Coop rose to his feet and growled. It pleased her that all three agents looked stunned. Why shouldn’t they? She’d just read their minds. In another minute they’d chalk it up to coincidence.
It wasn’t true what they said about male FBI agents being good-looking and manly, not to mention virile. Nor was it true about female FBI agents being beautiful the way they were portrayed in the movies. Agent Mason, who was packing twenty extra pounds around his middle, looked up at Lucy. “We want you to help us set a trap for your boyfriend.”
“And I would do so because…”
“You would do this because you are a responsible citizen and because we have you boxed into a corner. It’s the only way you’ll get off the hook.” She’ll go for it, I know she will.
Lucy’s head was back in play again. Yahooo. Her voice rang with angr
y confidence when she said, “You really think I’ll go for a deal like that?” The agent looked at her, his eyes popping wide. “I’m off the hook anyway because I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t scare easy, Mr. Mason. The burden of proof is on you. I can account for my time, my money, my savings, and anything else you want accounted for during the last ten years, way before I ever met Jonathan St. Clair. You know it, and I know it. We both know you can turn this into a messy circus, but in the end I’ll come out whole. Now if you want my help, spell it out, put it in writing, and maybe we can deal. That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
Special Agent Connors stood up to move closer to the fire. She must have been the one who was thinking she’d never get warm again. “We’re prepared to consider it,” she said. Lulu ran over to where she was standing, sniffed her boots, and barked. “Shoo, go away,” Connors said, waving her hands. Lulu continued to sniff and snarl.
“We want you to tell us everything you know about Leo Banks, no matter how insignificant you may think it is. Start from the moment you met him.”
This is where she’ll trip herself up. She has no clue what we know and don’t know. Lucy took a moment to puzzle over what she was feeling. The fire drill and Shea Stadium were gone. Her head was quiet, and her ears weren’t ringing. She was reading and hearing their minds. She was actually calm, shooting down everyone’s theory about anxiety and anger. “It’s not all that interesting, Agent Mason. If you’re hoping I’ll trip myself up, think again. Know Your Enemy 101. You’re probably thinking I have no clue as to what you know and don’t know. Just like you don’t know what I know and don’t know.” Lucy smiled. The FBI agent looked spooked. Good.
Special Agent Connors moved back to her chair, Lulu dogging her every step. The little dog positioned herself at her feet and stared up at the woman with bright eyes, defying her to move again. If she did, the fuzzy boots would go right out from under her. Terriers had a bad habit of sinking their teeth into something and never letting go. It looked to Lucy like Special Agent Connors knew all about terriers.
The Nosy Neighbor Page 10
