by Dylan Madrid
Reed let out a small laugh. “No, I’m not married.”
“Then why didn’t you do it?”
Their eyes locked again. “I think you and I both know the answer to that, Quintin.”
Indeed we do, Reed Ashton. You like men just as much as I do. Just as I thought.
“Then why are you here? Why come all the way to Belgium just to bring me back to work with a woman you don’t like? Makes no sense.”
“Because I want out. I want as far away from her as possible,” he said. “She refused to agree to my reassignment unless I did this last favor for her.”
“That sounds like blackmail.”
“Call it what you want. I’m just happy I found you,” said Reed. “Now that I have, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Quintin smiled. “Be careful,” he said. “That almost sounds like destiny.”
Reed leaned in closer as if he were about to reveal a secret. “Who were you with?” he asked in a whisper. “You can tell me.”
“In Belgium? I told you…I was by myself,” Quintin said.
“Bullshit.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“No, because you’re lying.”
“Why would I lie?” Quintin said. “I don’t know you well enough to lie to you.”
“I don’t know, but I’d sure like to find out.”
“What do you care?” said Quintin. “You’ll be leaving soon. A new assignment. Hopefully one without a temperamental woman.”
“And what will happen to you, I wonder?” Reed said. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”
“You sound concerned. Should I be worried?” Quintin asked.
“I worry about anyone who comes within reach of Regina’s grasp.”
“Is she that bad to work with?”
“No, as long as you agree with everything she does and says. I didn’t. I’m sure it won’t be long before I’m blacklisted around the world. She likes power. She loves to use it.”
“Why me, though? She could hire anyone. That’s what I don’t get.”
Reed grinned. “Maybe she wants to sleep with you.”
It was Quintin’s turn to laugh. “Why would she?” he said. “I mean, look at me. Not to mention the fact I don’t sleep with women.”
“You underestimate yourself, Quintin. You can’t have low self-esteem and handle a woman like Regina Bremington. You need to toughen up and believe in yourself. Otherwise, she’ll walk all over you. And it will happen before you even realize it.”
“That sounds like a warning.”
“I’ve worked in that house for almost a year now,” said Reed. “Let’s just say I know what she’s capable of.”
The moment Quintin had heard the boat pull away from the shore beneath the beach cottage, he was sure of two things: he had no choice but to accept the assignment and get a confession out of Regina Bremington, and he and Luca would see each other again.
He decided to get as much information out of Reed as possible.
“Is she dangerous?” he asked.
Would she kill?
“When she wants her way, yes. And she has a lot of connections with…less-than-desirable people.”
“Less than desirable? Who uses phrases like that? Do they teach you this in security service school?”
“Don’t mock me. I’m too easy a target for ridicule. And you’re far too clever for me,” Reed said. “Maybe you should be working for the government instead.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is. I have no idea why this is so…important to her, why she made you come all the way to Belgium in the middle of my holiday. I figure I’ll meet with her. We’ll have a conversation. She’ll see I’m clearly not cut out to help her with a political campaign. Then before I know it, I’ll be back in my cubicle editing the next issue of the Pensioner Weekly and having dinner every Thursday night with my friend Fiona Cassidy.”
Reed gave Quintin a look. He had suspicion in his eyes. “Who said anything about a political campaign?” he asked.
Oh, fuck.
“You did.”
Reed’s posture tensed. “No, I didn’t.”
“At the magazine office. In the lobby. That’s what you said.”
“If Regina Bremington is planning to enter politics, that’s news to me,” he said. “She wants to hire you to write her biography. To tell her story. She never mentioned anything about politics.”
Quintin tried to shrug it off. He reached for his cappuccino. “I must have misunderstood.”
He could see the wheels turning behind Reed’s eyes.
“Why would she even consider launching a campaign of her own when her husband was just murdered?” he wondered aloud.
Quintin already knew the answer. “For sympathy?”
Reed locked eyes with him. “Are you suggesting something?”
Quintin took a breath before he spoke. “Maybe I am. People love a widow.”
“She’s already playing the part very well,” he said. “Maybe she practiced for it.”
“It doesn’t hurt that she’s beautiful.”
“Or the fact that she has access to a lot of money,” he said. “You really think she’s capable of something like this?”
Quintin leaned in. “You tell me,” he said. “You think she was involved with it?”
Reed dropped his voice to a whisper again. “I’d bet my life on it,” he said.
“Let’s hope for both our sakes you don’t have to.”
“Why do you suspect her?” Reed asked.
“I think she has an agenda. Women like her usually do. That’s all I’m saying.”
“And what’s yours? Why leave a lover in Belgium just to come back to life in London? You didn’t seem that anxious about working with Regina when you disappeared on me at the magazine office.”
“I needed some time to think about…things.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?” Reed asked. “From what I gather, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“You must know a lot about me.”
“I know you’re lonely,” he said. “Like me.”
“What else do we have in common?”
“More than we probably both realize.”
“Two Americans alone and looking for love in London?”
“We sound pathetic,” said Reed with a half-smile.
“Trust me, Reed Ashton. Pathetic is a word I would never use to describe you. I’ll stick with intriguing.”
“You’re far too kind. I appreciate it.”
Quintin had one final question.
“Were you born with a desire to protect people?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Reed. “And so far I’ve done a terrible job at it.”
“I take it the ambassador is not the first person you’ve…lost.”
“No,” he said. “But I’m going to make damned sure he’s the last.”
The Disappearance
Quintin had never been so happy to see his apartment. But the reverie was short-lived. Only seconds after they’d walked in the front door, Reed’s cell phone buzzed.
“I have to take this in private,” he said. To Quintin’s surprise, the security agent walked out the door with his phone pressed to his ear. “Hello?”
Alone, Quintin’s mind started to race.
I could climb out the window, make my way down the fire escape, and jump on a bus.
But to where? I have no idea where Luca is or even how to look for him.
Quintin started to have second thoughts about the assignment. Doubt clouded his mind like a heavy fog.
I can’t do this. It’s too dangerous. Besides, Regina Bremington will never give me the confession I need. And if she does, I will be the one responsible for sending her to prison. I’ll live my life with a target on my back.
There was a knock at the door. Was Reed back so soon? And why did he even bother knocking?
It’s not like my life is private anymore.
�
�We don’t have much time,” Arianna said when Quintin opened the door. She removed her dark sunglasses from her eyes and tucked them into her flamingo-covered straw beach bag. She was a burst of color and glamour in bright yellow and stark white.
“I thought you were Reed,” Quintin said. “Where is he?”
“Downstairs. He got an emergency phone call,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “What’s the emergency?”
Arianna walked into the apartment. It seemed odd to see her standing there, next to his tiny kitchenette—the refrigerator that constantly vibrated and hummed, the bright-red teakettle, the mismatched dish towels, the unplugged electric hot plate. It felt to Quintin as if Arianna was in the wrong place, the wrong setting. She didn’t belong in a shoebox of a flat that reeked like poverty.
Yet she was at ease. She appeared just as comfortable standing in the apartment as she had at Trafalgar Square and the beach cottage.
Maybe because she rules any space she occupies.
“I don’t know,” she said. There was a thin layer of frustration in her voice. “I’m sure my grandmother will think of something. She can be very convincing.”
Her family knows no limits. They’ll do anything.
“He’ll be back any second,” Quintin said. “He’s taking me back to the Bremington estate.”
“We need to hurry. He can’t see me here. It will ruin everything if he does.”
“Tell me everything I need to know.”
“Once you arrive, you will be given a pen by my mother,” Arianna said. “There’s a recording device inside it. You must click the top of the pen to activate it. Use this to get Regina’s confession.”
Quintin felt his body tense. His shoulders ached at once. “She’s not going to just come out and admit to me she murdered her husband,” he said. “That’s ridiculous. She hardly even knows me.”
Arianna gave him a look. Her eyes were so beautiful, so commanding, Quintin was certain she used them when she needed to get her way. “She will if she thinks you are on her side.”
“I’m a journalist, not an actor. I’m not trained for this like you are.”
“We have faith in you, Quintin. We know how important it is to you to do the right thing. You’re a good person,” she said. “If there’s any trouble, we will bring in my brother.”
Quintin couldn’t help but smile just at the mention of him.
“Luca?” he said. “Where is he?”
“Waiting for you in Cinque Terre. In our hometown. In Manarola. You will love it there, Quintin. It is very romantic and colorful. Just like you.”
Romantic I agree with, but colorful? Since when did I become colorful?
There was another knock at the door. Quintin felt his pulse quicken. He looked to Arianna for instruction. She seemed unfazed by the sound.
Nothing rattles her. She’s like steel.
“It’s not him,” she said.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Answer the door,” Arianna told him.
He moved across the room. “Who is it?” he asked through the wood.
“Detective Sergeant Mallory Evans,” the voice on the other side said. “I just have a few more questions for you, Mr. Pearson. This won’t take long.”
Quintin turned back to Arianna and asked, “What do I do?”
Arianna’s composure was still intact. “Talk to her,” she said. “Otherwise she will be suspicious.”
“How do I explain who you are?” he asked.
The detective was growing impatient out in the hallway. Her voice was firm. “Mr. Pearson?”
Arianna offered Quintin a reassuring smile. “I used to work at the magazine with you,” she said. “We haven’t seen each other in a few months, since I went home to Italy to marry a wealthy man.”
He almost laughed, but his body felt too nervous to do anything but breathe. “Sounds like a nice life.”
“Open the door,” she told him.
Quintin complied.
Mallory Evans looked exhausted and irritated. Her piercing eyes were a darker shade of blue than Quintin remembered. Her thick red hair was piled up on top of her head in a halfhearted bun and held in place with a yellow pencil. Her dark-green pantsuit was wrinkled as if she’d slept in it the night before.
“Detective Sergeant Evans,” said Quintin. “Hello.”
“Forgive me,” she said without sounding genuine. Her eyes glanced over Arianna in a quick inspection. “I didn’t realize you had company. Is there some place where we may speak in private?”
I need to get her out of here. Reed could be back at any second. Arianna was very clear—he can’t see her. They mustn’t come face-to-face. I just don’t know why.
“What about?” he asked. “I’m actually in the middle of something at the moment.”
“There have been some new developments in the investigation of the murder of Ambassador Bremington.”
Quintin tried his best to look and sound surprised. “Oh?”
Mallory held up a photograph.
The sight of it caused the air to escape from Quintin’s lungs.
“Do you know this man?” she asked.
Numbed, Quintin only nodded in reply. It took him a few seconds to find his voice, to form the words. “Yes, of course I do,” he said. “His name is Kevin Mayberry.”
It was a picture Quintin had never seen before.
Where did she get it?
The photograph was already put away, shoved into the wrinkled front pocket of her blazer.
“How do you know him, Mr. Pearson?” she pressed.
I have nothing to hide. There’s no reason to lie.
“He lived here…with me…for over a year.”
Mallory gave him a look. Because he felt dizzy, he tried to focus on the features on her face. He started to count the freckles on her skin. He only made it to three when she asked, “And where is he now?”
Quintin looked away. For a brief moment he was surprised to see Arianna still standing in the living room. Nothing else seemed to matter. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m sure. He left in the middle of the night five months ago,” said Quintin. “He disappeared.”
“And you haven’t seen him since?”
She was starting to anger him. Why bring it up now? The five months had been so long and lonely.
“No,” he answered.
“And you say his name is Kevin Mayberry?”
“Yes.”
“He’s an American?” she asked. Quintin nodded. “Where is he from exactly?”
“I’m sorry,” Arianna said in an almost-perfect British accent. “What is this about?”
“I’m afraid this matter is none of your concern,” said Mallory.
“Obviously it is because you’re upsetting my friend,” Arianna said. For effect, she placed a comforting hand on Quintin’s arm.
“Strange,” the detective said, “you certainly don’t look like someone Mr. Pearson would associate with.”
Quintin was surprised by the sound of his own voice. “His family lives in Boston,” he said.
“Have you met them?”
“No,” he said, “but he spoke to his mother on the phone regularly.”
“What about?”
“The usual things a son talks to his mother about,” he said. “What does Kevin have to do with any of this? What am I dealing with here?”
Mallory sat down on the sofa and crossed her feet at the ankles. Apparently she had no plans on leaving any time soon.
Quintin’s eyes darted to the front door and then to Arianna, who held his stare.
They both knew Reed would return at any moment.
As if on cue, Arianna’s cell phone vibrated.
That’s our warning. Reed is on his way back upstairs.
“This is about a false identity,” Mallory said from her relaxed perch in the living room.
A momen
t passed while her words sank in before Quintin could speak. “What?” he said, stumbling heart-first into a state of disbelief.
“Kevin Mayberry doesn’t exist,” she said. “He never has.”
The Infiltration
Quintin held his breath for a moment when Regina Bremington entered the room. He could sense her presence approaching even before he saw her from where he sat on a green leather love seat, not far from a stark-white baby grand piano.
The room was big and wide, with high ceilings and potted palms. Sunlight streamed in through the massive windows and sheer curtains, creating a gauzy, soft haze.
Regina strutted into the room, exuding confidence and power. She was wearing a royal-blue skirt suit and black heels. Her platinum hair was slicked back into a ponytail. Her perfume swam around the room, causing Quintin to cough a little when he stood up to greet her.
Her full lips curled into a smile. There was a mischievous, almost devilish quality to her expression. Immediately, Quintin thought of the Cheshire Cat and his famous grin. This was indeed a version of Wonderland, this new world he’d stumbled into. Only Regina was not the sweet, demure, inquisitive Alice. She was the ruthless Queen of Hearts.
“I’m so happy to see you again, Mr. Pearson,” she said and Quintin almost believed her.
He looked her directly in the eye, trying to catch the glimmer of evil that would give her away, reveal her true personality—the mean streak that was cruel enough to order her husband’s assassination.
How could she do it?
“Please,” he said. “Call me Quintin.”
“And you may call me Regina,” she said. “I already feel like we’re old friends.”
“That’s very kind of you to say. I appreciate the…invitation…to see you again. I know this must be a difficult time for you.”
Funny. You don’t seem very distraught. Where’s the sadness, Regina? Where are the tears?
A quick flash of anger seeped into her eyes, as if Quintin’s words were a reminder of the sorrow she was supposed to be bearing.
“Yes,” she said, lowering her gaze. “It’s a tragedy what happened to my husband.”
She’s pretty convincing, but she won’t look me in the eye now. Maybe she’s not as good a liar as everyone thinks she is.
“I’m so sorry for your loss…Regina.”