"After we had the argument on the roof."
"What did Doug say?"
"Well, a lot of incomprehensible nonsense about compositions for the clarinet. I don't know what excuse I would judge to be adequate justification for this behavior, but a love for the clarinet isn't it. I gave him what I think was an effective dressing-down."
"And did you tell him your plan?"
"As a matter of fact, I did."
"How did he react?"
"Grateful."
"As well he should."
"He told me how to get in touch with Dennis Halcourt. I'm meeting with Halcourt tomorrow afternoon."
She looked at his eyes then, her own full of surprise and alarm. “So soon?"
"I don't want to drag this out more than necessary. Not with who knows what going on with the FBI. I want to get this all over with."
"So you're meeting with Halcourt tomorrow?"
He nodded.
"Where?"
"What does it matter where?"
"Someplace safe?” she asked anxiously.
"Now you sound like Mark. Halcourt isn't going to try to kill me."
"How do you know?"
"I don't know. I just know. It doesn't make any sense to kill me now. Anyhow, we're meeting right here, so I should be fine."
"You're meeting here at the Bienvenue?"
"I figured why not give the FBI as much ammunition as they need?"
"Give a man enough rope...” she said. “What time are you meeting him?"
"In the afternoon. Two o'clock."
"You'll tell me how it goes?"
"Of course I will. I'm sure it will be just fine. This has got to be an outcome he would desire, wouldn't you think?"
"I suppose so. I don't know. None of this makes much sense to me, Gray."
There was a moment of silence. “I'll pay some sort of foolish fine. I'll do some community service. This will all be a very distant memory in a few months. Then we'll go away, just the two of us, and forget about all of this. I'll take you some place lovely, like Monaco. Have you been to Monaco?"
"Yes, while I was in Europe."
He looked a little disappointed. “Oh. Well, did you like Monaco?"
"I did. Monaco was lovely. Gray, I don't think it's going to be as simple as you seem to think. Maybe we should hold off on vacation plans for a little while."
"Why wouldn't it be simple?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
* * * *
The plan formulated itself. She wasn't sure she played any conscious part in it. It just came to her that morning, while she was pretending to work on Sophie's portrait.
Because Gray had made contact with Halcourt, he no longer feared for anybody's life. He felt they were comfortably safe and, for that reason, they weren't penned up in any suite together. She was alone in her own suite, painting Sophie, when it occurred to her that this whole situation was stupid. And then the plan came to her, sprung fully formed.
Clearly this plan was supposed to be implemented, too, because luck was on her side. When she took the elevator to the lobby, walked through it, still vaguely uncertain how to put it all into action, she encountered Danny almost immediately. She said his name in pleased recognition. Yes, clearly this was a sign.
"Miss Thomas,” he replied. “Gray's in his office, I think."
"Yes, I know. I was wondering if you have an idea which hospital Mark's wife is in. I wanted to pay her a visit."
"Oh. Oh, yes. They would have gone to St. Teresa's. That's the nearest. And I think that is where the secretaries told me they were sending the flowers."
"Great.” She sent him a wide smile. “That's very helpful. Thank you."
It was no trouble at all to find Monica's room. Aubrey's luck, blessedly, continuing to hold because Mark was there too, Madison seated on his lap, all three of them watching something on television. The baby, a small bundle of blue blanket, was asleep in a portable bassinet in the corner of the room.
Aubrey knocked on the door, and all three Daileys looked up at her. It was Monica who said, “Aubrey. How nice of you to stop by."
Aubrey supposed she should pretend she had come to see the baby. “Well, I thought ... Since Gray is such ... I mean, Gray himself would be here, but—"
"The baby's sleeping,” Monica interjected. “But you can still admire him."
The baby. “Of course.” Aubrey forced a smile, leaned carefully over the bassinet, had a vague impression that the baby had a properly formed nose. That was always good. She straightened and turned back to Monica and Mark.
Mark was watching her closely, suspiciously, looking like he dreaded something. He had a severe black eye. Gray had seemed to show no wear and tear at all from the fight.
Monica was clearly waiting for an empty compliment so Aubrey gave it to her. “He's beautiful. Congratulations. Can I talk to you for a minute, Mark?"
"Yeah, sure,” he answered with a trace of grimness in his voice. He stood, deposited Madison from his lap to his chair and said, “I'll be right back,” and then followed Aubrey out of the room.
"I'm sorry,” she said in a low voice, turning to him, “I hate to bother you like this—"
He shook his head. “Don't worry about it. What's the problem?"
"We have a situation."
Mark lifted his eyebrows. “I see. And we didn't before?"
"Oh, we did before. It's just that this situation is much, much worse."
"How the hell could this get any worse, Aubrey?"
"I found out who's laundering the money."
"You did? Why, that's good news. I mean, the only way it could be bad news is if it actually is Gray.” Mark's eyes sharpened. “It isn't Gray, right?"
"No, it's not Gray. It's Doug."
Mark was silent for a second. She could see thoughts racing behind his eyes while he stared at her. Then he swore.
"Yes, you see?” she agreed. “It's worse."
"Worse? That's not even the word for it. Doug? Doug is laundering money? You're sure?"
"He's really just Halcourt's contact. I don't think he's the mastermind."
"Why the hell would ... Have you told Gray this?"
"Yes,” Aubrey admitted.
"Oh, that wasn't a good move,” said Mark.
"I realize that now."
"What ridiculous scheme has he concocted?"
"He's going to confess to the money-laundering."
"To protect Doug."
"Yes."
"And what's he doing about Halcourt?"
"He's meeting Halcourt today. At two o'clock."
"Where?"
"At the Bienvenue. Mark, we can't let him do this. I won't let him do this. I've never heard anything so stupid—"
"Gray does stupid things. This sounds just like Gray. Oh, dammit."
"Mark, please. You've got to help me. Try to convince him—"
"I'm not going to convince him. Gray's stubborn. You know that. Surely you've already tried to talk him out of it?"
"Well, of course I—"
"If he didn't listen to you, he's sure as hell not going to listen to me."
"But, Mark, you have to try. This is—"
"No, no, you're right. This is unacceptable. We have to fix this. Give me a second to think.” Mark leaned against the wall, stared up at the ceiling. Aubrey stood next to him, trying not to fidget, until he finally said, “Okay. Yes. I think I know."
"You think you know what?"
"I know what to do. I think it will work."
"What is it? What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to need you to get Gray out of his office for me. Can you do that?"
"Well, yes, I—"
"Okay. Good."
"Mark, what are you doing to do?"
"Gray has agreed to assist the FBI in apprehending the real money-launderer. And that's just what he's going to do."
* * * *
She used sex to get Gray out of his office.
She felt a little bad about
that. Seducing him—which she was discovering was both more and more fun and easy—should not have been used as a trick. But, if she was going to save him from his disastrous self, then there was nothing for it.
And he acquitted himself quite well, as he usually did. He also gave her a long, lingering, slightly melancholy kiss when he departed, and she felt like telling him that he should put an end to the stupid plan and stay with her. But, since he wouldn't stay even if she asked, and as she wasn't certain what Mark had planned, she didn't say anything at all and let him leave.
Then she showered and threw on clothing and went to meet Mark where he had told her to meet him—at the Bienvenue spa. She thought it was a strange place, but she also supposed that it looked completely innocent if anyone was watching her: she went to the spa and got a massage. The massage room she was led to contained Mark and another man she didn't recognize.
"This is Agent Markham,” Mark told her, looking none too thrilled about making the introduction. He was kicked back on a chair in the room, which was cramped, not having been made for three people.
Agent Markham was seated in another chair. He had been involved with some sort of electronic device on his lap, but he looked up abruptly when Aubrey entered. Now he narrowed his eyes at her. “Who the hell is this?” he demanded, obviously of Mark.
Aubrey frowned at him.
"This is Aubrey Thomas,” Mark replied.
"Ah. Delamont-ay's belle du jour."
"The e is silent,” Aubrey informed Agent Markham.
"What's she doing here?” asked Markham.
"Aubrey warned me about what Gray's planning on doing."
"That's great. The federal government is grateful for your assistance in this matter. Now if you don't mind—"
"She's staying,” Mark interjected.
Aubrey, who didn't think there was even a question of this, pulled herself onto the massage table, perched on the edge of it. “So what's the plan?” she asked.
"She doesn't even know what the plan is?” Markham complained.
Mark ignored him. “While you had Gray out of the office, I wired it."
"You wired his office?"
"Yes.” She looked at the electronics in Markham's hands—a recorder, she now saw.
"And we'll be able to hear everything, and tape it too,” Markham added.
"It will clear Gray?"
"Hopefully."
She looked back at Mark. “Halcourt won't discover that the place is wired, right? He's not going to figure it out and take anything out on Gray, right?"
"I'm good, Aubrey. I'm very good. He won't find the wire. And Gray will be perfectly safe."
Aubrey tugged at a fingernail with her teeth, something she hardly ever did. “I'm nervous."
"This is all going to be fine."
The recorder clicked on. Gray's voice came over it clearly. “Marjorie?"
"Yes, Mr. Delamonte?"
"I need you to get hold of Harry Winston's. I want them to send a selection of jewelry up to Ms. Thomas in my suite, so she can pick something out."
Aubrey blinked at the recorder.
"That's probably something you're going to want to pretend to be surprised about,” said Mark.
* * * *
Sending jewelry up to Aubrey was a pleasant task. It was much better to focus on that than the meeting he was going to be having in a little while. Because he was nervous. Nervous as hell.
Aubrey seemed to have the attitude that he was doing this just to spite her, just to ruin whatever magical path their lives might have decided to go down together. That was far from the truth. If this was his fear of commitment reasserting itself, it was choosing one hell of a way to do it.
Gray stood, restless, sighing, and walked to his window. He could kill Doug. He could kill himself. He wished desperately he could see another way out of this. But if he let Doug take the fall, even if it was what Doug deserved, he would always feel guilty. Always. Throughout that magical life he could have envisioned with Aubrey. The guilt would have ruined everything, as effectively as it was already being ruined, only slowly, excruciatingly.
It was better this way.
Gray prowled through his office. He looked up at Study in Gray. He picked up the television remote control and flipped through channels. Marjorie walked in, saying, “Harry Winston's wants to know what sort of selection."
"I don't know. Whatever is stunning. Tell them everything stunning. I don't know much about it. Whatever they think a difficult to please woman would like."
"Yes, Mr. Delamonte."
"Oh, and Marjorie?” Gray called after her as she began to turn away. She turned back toward him expectantly. “Tell them no rings. But anything else they can think of is fine."
"Yes, sir,” said Marjorie as she left.
Gray turned off the television and walked back over to the window, leaning against it, looking down at the Bienvenue's deserted pool area. What passed for a cold snap in Las Vegas had moved in. No hardy soul had ventured out by the pool.
"Mr. Delamonte,” said Marjorie.
Gray grunted in response.
"Mr. Halcourt is here."
Gray looked at his watch. Halcourt was early. He supposed that was to throw him off. “Send him in,” he said, and shot his cuffs in a nervous gesture that he immediately regretted as Halcourt walked in and caught him at it.
"Gray,” he said jovially, walking forward to the desk.
"Mr. Halcourt,” Gray replied simply, keeping the desk in between them as a barrier.
"Please call me Dennis. Do you mind...?” Halcourt waved his hands, indicating two men in dark suits who had followed him inside. “I'd like to check to make sure you're not taping anything."
"Go ahead,” said Gray, and sat in his seat.
"I know that there's always a camera in a casino,” Halcourt smiled.
"Not in my office. This is a private zone. As is my suite. But then, you already know that."
"What would make you think I know that?” inquired Halcourt innocently.
"You've been there."
"I've been in your suite?” Halcourt sounded shocked.
Gray had to smile in irony. “By extension, yes."
The dark suited men abruptly exited. Halcourt sat without being invited.
"Are we ready?” Gray asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"Yes, we can do business. You are a man whose attention is difficult to get, Gray."
"I'm busy. I've learned to prioritize."
"Yes, I've noticed how adept you are at keeping your schedule clear for the various women that flit in and out of your life. It's really quite impressive."
"Thank you,” said Gray dryly.
"So I've been maneuvering to get into this office for quite some time. Why am I suddenly successful?"
"Do you have to ask?"
"I can only assume that I must have done something to finally catch your attention."
"Using my casino for illegal purposes tends to have that effect."
"Well, well. It did take you long enough. Do you mind if I smoke?"
"Very much. I knew the money-laundering was going on. For quite some time. And I also knew you had to be involved. I was waiting to figure out who your contact was."
"Yes, I thought that would get your attention. You'd be interested in my scouting report on you: very devoted, very loyal brother. Using your family was definitely the way to get to you. The only thing more effective would have been a redheaded Red Sox fan. Unfortunately, you met Ms. Thomas before I did."
"He's a kid, Mr. Halcourt. You took advantage of a kid. I suppose that part of what I did wrong in this whole situation was that I assumed you'd play fair."
"Yes, that was foolish of you, Gray. And anyhow, he's not a kid. He's twenty-four years old. When I was twenty-four years old ... When you were twenty-four years old, for that matter ... It amazes me, you know. You have quite the reputation for an iron constitution. How you're related to such a weak-willed brother is one of those co
nundrums of nature."
"He isn't weak-willed. He's young."
"Well, at any rate, he is the reason your little quasi-empire is quickly crumbling."
"Aren't you eager to hear what drastic measures I've decided to take in order to preserve what's left of my quasi-empire?"
"I wait with bated breath."
"I don't know what you hoped to accomplish by persuading my brother to betray me and this company, but here are the moves I've decided to make. Tomorrow I am turning myself in to the FBI, quite the hat trick, as I am completely innocent."
"You know that. I know that. The FBI will only hear what it wants to hear."
"That's what I'm banking on. So I turn myself in, which gets Doug off the hook. And then you leave everyone alone. For instance, Aubrey. Your henchman, while on his errand to so helpfully inform me that my best friend was spying on me, almost killed Aubrey. I don't want any more of these unfortunate accidents. Not to Aubrey, Doug, Sophie, my mother, not to anybody I care about, Mark and his family, Danny, Lucy. We're done with that."
"What makes you think we're done with that?” asked Halcourt mildly,
"The fact that you're getting everything you want. You continue to money-launder. I won't roll over on you. If you're more clever about the money-laundering this time around, you should have a pretty successful time of it."
Halcourt smiled. “This sounds like a lovely deal."
"Yes, I thought you would appreciate it. I mean it about my family and friends. Leave them alone. You beat me this time around. Quite soundly. I'll admit that. But that's only because I wasn't prepared for this round. It isn't because I'm not up to the challenge. If you cross me again, it isn't going to be pleasant."
"No,” Halcourt agreed as he stood. “I didn't think it would be. I thought I only had one chance to blindside you this marvelously. But take heart, Gray. You're a Red Sox fan. Wouldn't you say you're used to losing?"
Gray frowned. He was about to say something when his office door flew open and Doug walked in. “Good,” Doug said upon catching sight of Halcourt. “I'm not too late."
Halcourt's companions had followed on Doug's heels, into the room. Marjorie had also scurried in.
"We have this covered, Marjorie, thank you,” Gray assured her.
She looked less than certain but she left.
That issue resolved, Gray turned his attention to Doug. “Doug,” he said harshly, “what are you doing here?"
Twenty Hours in Boston Page 39
