Part 20 (1/2)
”You know this is exceedingly bad, don't you, Gloria?” Bridgeman said.
She looked down at the toes of her black pumps. ”Yes, sir.”
”Have the Maryland authorities figured out Catapult's involved?”
She shook her head. ”I've been keeping tabs. At the moment, they have several theories. One is Chapman's guards stopped a robbery, and the robbers ran before the authorities could get there. There are a lot of valuable things in his place. They're hoping Chapman's attorney has an inventory and can tell them what, if anything, is missing. Another top theory is that it was a revenge killing for one of Chapman's equity deals. He wasn't exactly an angel to the people whose companies he bought or to the banks when one of his big house-of-cards deals crashed, especially since he somehow always made a profit.”
Bridgeman heaved a sigh. ”Langley knows?”
”Of course not. That's your decision.”
”Where are they?”
”Judd and Eva? I don't know.”
He stared at her.
She moved uneasily in her chair. ”Honestly, I really don't know.”
He nodded. ”If they call, tell me instantly. Now it's time for damage control. It's unlikely they're staying in the United States. Makes them too vulnerable. Notify Interpol. Tell them we want Judd Ryder and Eva Blake for possible involvement in a multiple homicide that includes two international a.s.sa.s.sins, and that a third a.s.sa.s.sin is likely roaming around somewhere with Ryder and Blake. All are armed and dangerous-the usual warnings. Send photos, bios, everything you have. We want them shut down as quickly as possible. That's it. Get to work.”
Gloria did not move. ”Tucker was right-international a.s.sa.s.sins were operating inside the country. He could be right, too, that it's just the beginning of something very bad. Shouldn't we find out what they were up to?”
”Tucker lied so much I doubt he knew when he was telling the truth. But there isn't a hint they were doing anything illegal except killing each other off. And in some quarters, fewer a.s.sa.s.sins is a good thing.”
”And Martin Chapman's death?”
Bridgeman shrugged. ”Chapman was shot and killed. It could've been Tucker's bullet.”
”If it was Tucker's bullet, then it was self-defense. The whole thing in the library could've been an attack on Tucker, Judd, and Eva.”
”Or the reverse. It could've been them going after Chapman. Unfortunately, Chapman's not alive to tell us, and it's hard to believe anything Tucker, Ryder, Blake, or the Carnivore claims.”
Her eyebrows rose. She changed the subject. ”Would you like me to gather the staff in the lunchroom so you can tell them about Tucker's head injury? If you'd rather not, I'll talk to them. They're going to be upset.”
He frowned. ”Of course I'll do it,” he said firmly. ”It's my job. Let me know when everyone's there.” He would praise the legend of Tucker, not mention the sh.e.l.l of an intelligence officer the old man had become.
Gloria nodded and opened the door.
Bridgeman spoke again: ”You'll notice I didn't ask you why you didn't call me as soon as you got off the phone with Ryder. That's a dereliction of your duty. I'll let it go this time, but don't ever give me reason not to trust you again.”
50.
Marrakech, Morocco Katia felt like a cat, purring and stretching in bed. She sighed contentedly. They had slept long. It was nearly noon.
”h.e.l.lo, darling. You're awake?” Pyotr was coming out of the bathroom stark naked, toweling his hair dry.
”Yes.” She snuggled back down, peeking over the covers and staring at his long lines, the spray of black hair on his chest, his curly pubic hair black, too, and his c.o.c.k at half mast. ”More?” she asked.
He had been walking to the window to check the day. Abruptly he turned. Wadding the towel, he stalked toward her, head lowered, grinning widely. He hurled the towel at her. ”You're going to wear me out.”
She rose up and caught the towel. ”I don't think so.”
Pyotr left to go to his room to put on fresh clothes while she showered. By the time he returned, dressed in a pressed white s.h.i.+rt and bone-colored linen slacks, she was out of the bathroom and wearing her favorite blue sundress.
”You're beautiful.” He handed her a pink rose. ”I stole it from a vase in the hallway, but as long as it remains in the hotel, it's not stealing, right?”
”Don't expect me to absolve you of your petty sins.” She grinned. ”Thank you anyway-I love it.”
Not only Pyotr had arrived, so had breakfast. Well, brunch, Katia thought. They'd had a long night of off-and-on lovemaking and sleeping. Sitting across from each other at the little table by the window, they drank their lattes and devoured their croissants.
”I'm going to get fat if I keep eating croissants,” she warned.
”Not likely. But if you do, there will just be more of you to love.” He smiled.
”Were you always so handsome?”
He laughed. ”No. The cosmetic surgeries helped. Why?”
”I would've thought anyone who wanted to go unnoticed would've had surgery to make them look as plain as possible.”
”Under ordinary circ.u.mstances you'd be right. My last surgery was just after I retired, and being somewhat attractive made me seem less likely to have been in my profession.”
”Are you growing a beard?” She reached across the table and stroked his holiday stubble. The hair was longer now, springy and soft.
”I'll wait until winter to cultivate a beard. I hope you'll like it.”
She had a catch in her throat. Was he saying- ”You look stunned.” He was grinning again. ”What did you think? Of course we'll still be together this winter, and next winter, and next.” He frowned. ”Unless of course you don't want to.”
She tested her emotions. There was no way she had enough sense right now to test her brain. ”I'd like that. One day at a time, okay?”
He sat back, his latte cup in one hand. ”I need to talk with you about something that happened last night. I didn't want to scare you, but I was worried about the woman who was taking pictures of you. I figured if she were really following you, I might be able to spot her outside the hotel. So I got up around three o'clock and went out. I didn't find her, but I did find her employer, the person who was the real surveillor. She was operating under the name Laura Billingsley. She'd hired the older woman to take photos as a distraction, because it was me she was following, not you. Billingsley ended up killing her, probably because she was the only witness to what Billingsley was doing.”
Katia covered her mouth with her hand. She was speechless, horrified.
Pyotr inhaled. ”Billingsley had done a good job on me-she knew who I was, and she'd overheard enough of our conversation to know we speak Russian and you have two names. She pulled a Luger on me. I had to shoot her. She's dead.”
Katia gasped.
”My past haunts me,” he said quietly. ”I try over and over to leave it behind, and then something like this happens.”
She was silent.