Golden Dancer

by Tara Lain

  “Wow.”

  “That’s why trust means a lot to me. Without it, love isn’t love—it’s just sex.”

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  “So thank you for believing I had a reason to steal the Dancer.”

  Mac’s face asked the question.

  “Chaim ben Harrari is my distant relative. That was part of my shitty family’s myth. That they weren’t Jewish and weren’t related to that clan. When I discovered that I was, I began helping the various causes the ben Harraris support, mostly in worldwide education. After a particularly notable contribution, Chaim asked to meet me. When I told him our connection, he slowly began to open up to me. He told me about the Dancer. That’s when I tried to buy it. “

  “He’s over ninety, right? I can imagine he’d want to restore it to his family.”

  “Not the plan. He’s sold it to a private collector who is happy to pay an exorbitant price and keep it under wraps as long as he can own it. The money will support the network of schools the family builds around the world. I told him I’d give him the money, but in truth, the statue is worth more than I can probably afford to give him. Plus, he’s an independent cuss. Besides, he owns the Dancer and should be able to sell it if he wants to.”

  Mac grinned. Shit, he had a nice smile. “Well, he owns it now. Is the private collector you?”

  Daniel chuckled. Tricky devil. “No. Believe it or not, I have no compunction about stealing from Von Berg, but I do shy from the idea of owning stolen property, even if stolen from a thieving Nazi’s son.”

  Mac smiled. “Daniel, I like who you are. So, I must confess to curiosity about the details of the theft. How did you—”

  There was a rap on the door. Must be important or Carlos would never interrupt. “Yes, Carlos.”

  The door opened quietly. “Sorry, sir, but Mister…”—he glanced at Mac. “Mr. S is on the phone, and he’s quite insistent.”

  “He’s always insistent. How do you say ‘fuck off’ in German?” Oh wait. “On second thought, Mac, you might enjoy this. Give me a moment, and then put him through in here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He looked at Mac, who was watching with interest. “This is SS, the hacker. You might get a kick out of listening to the guy, since you’ve heard about him.”

  Mac looked a little sheepish. “I actually heard him once when you were talking to him. I didn’t set out to eavesdrop, honest. Just ended up in the wrong place at the right time.”

  “Maybe this will explain a little of how it was done.”

  The phone rang on the side table between him and Mac. He hit Speaker. “Terrebone.”

  “Ach, Herr Daniel. I have considered your offer again.”

  “It’s not an offer, Stefan. If you want to get paid the balance, you need to give me a copy of the program. It’s clear, I think.”

  “But if I give away my program…”

  “You will have met the bargain we made.”

  “I’m thinking I will get my money when pigs fly.”

  Daniel watched Mac suppress a laugh.

  “Doesn’t have to be a porcine adventure, Stefan.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know how to get paid quickly with no further discussion. I always pay my debts, one way or another.”

  “Are you threatening me, sir?”

  “Take it in the spirit in which it is offered.”

  “We will speak again when pigs fly!” The line went dead.

  Mac laughed. “I heard him use that expression before. Hell, where do you think he got it?”

  “Amazing, isn’t it? I always want to laugh, but the man makes up for his technical brilliance with a complete lack of sense of humor.”

  “Why not just pay him?”

  “I want a copy of the program he used to hack Von Berg’s system.”

  “Is he likely to blackmail you with it if he keeps it?”

  “No. He can’t accuse me without implicating himself. And as you say, Von Berg already knows I did it, he just can’t prove it. I actually plan to give it to my own in-house hackers to develop an antitheft program for advanced security systems. Keep people like me out.”

  Mac laughed. “Tricky devil.”

  “Always.” He sipped his champagne. “Hey, remember when you thanked me for your office?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How you sat on my lap?”

  Mac grinned. “Yeah, when we looked like what Trelain would describe as two water buffaloes snuggling.”

  Daniel attempted a strange moo. No self-respecting water buffalo would claim that sound. “I kind of liked it.”

  Mac bounded up from the other chair straight onto Daniel’s lap and kissed him.

  “Oof. Maybe I forgot the full weight of your affection.”

  Mac pulled back, laughing. “If anyone had ever told me it was possible for me to be this sappy, I would have called them nuts.”

  Daniel buried a hand in the thick, dark curls, pulled Mac’s head back, and kissed him. “It’s good for a guy to be sappy sometimes.”

  A vibration tickled Daniel’s groin. “Yikes. That feels good. I thought you didn’t want to fuck anymore.”

  “Nitwit.” Mac dug the vibrating cell phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. He frowned. “It’s Von Berg.”

  Daniel nodded and Mac hit the Send button. “MacAllister.”

  His frown deepened. “Slow down a second, Horst. What are you telling me?”

  He glanced at Daniel. “Okay, so you no longer need my collaboration. Have you given up the investigation?” He nodded. “I see.” His frown got deeper.

  Shit. Whatever the Nazi bastard was planning probably wasn’t good. Daniel felt the tension in Mac’s body.

  Mac sat up on Daniel’s lap. He looked down at Daniel with concern in his eyes. “Uh, Horst, I understand you plan to give up the investigation, but I have some additional data I want to give you. I’m going to be in New York…uh, tomorrow. Can I come and see you? I think this will be of interest.” He listened. “No, it’s something I have to show you, and I’d prefer to do it in person. It could make a difference in your decision.” He formed a tight smile. “Yes, I look forward to meeting you. Tomorrow, then, at your home? Have someone e-mail me the directions. Good. See you then.”

  He clicked off and stared at Daniel. “He says he’s giving up the investigation. This makes me really uneasy. I can’t believe he’d give up without that statue in hand, and one of his minions told me Von Berg has a foolproof way to get it back.”

  “You’re going to see him?”

  “Yeah. Maybe if I can get close to the man, I can figure out what the hell he’s thinking. I’ll show him the photo of you with ben Harrari and act as if I think this is news to him. I’m a news reporter. Maybe I can get him to reveal something useful.”

  “We’ll use my jet. I’ll come with you. I don’t like the idea of you alone with Von Berg.”

  Mac waggled his eyebrows. “Why, is he a German hunk?”

  Daniel smiled. “Hardly. Besides, he’s old enough to be your father. No, I just don’t trust the bastard.”

  The intercom on the phone beside him rang. Mac moved to the other chair to give him room, and Daniel picked up the phone. “Yes, Carlos?”

  “Sir, there is a person who will not identify himself on the phone. He says it’s urgent, but will not tell me why.”

  Daniel felt a slow panic build in his chest. He took a deep breath. “Put him on.” He looked at Mac with wide eyes. He heard the click. “This is Daniel Terrebone. Who are you?”

  A muffled voice answered. “Don’t ask questions; just listen. I have the dancer.”

  What the hell? “The dancer is not my property; why should I care?”

  “Because I’ll kill him—or worse, maim him—if you don’t cooperate.”

  Ice. He turned to ice. “You mean you have Trelain Medveyev? That is the dancer you mean?” He looked up. Mac’s face had gone white.

  “Of course. And if you w
ant to see him again, you’ll return the statue to its rightful owner. Instructions will be sent to you. I’m sure you won’t go to the police. Just do as I say. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  “Then we understand each other. Do not fail, or Medveyev will never dance again.” The line went dead.

  No. Turn back time. Make it go away. Not Trelain. Please. He looked at Mac. “Von Berg’s foolproof plan. Jesus, Mac, he has Trelain, and I don’t even want to think about what he could do to him.”

  Mac’s chocolate eyes were huge. “But he won’t hurt him if you give back the statue, will he?”

  Daniel thought his heart would burst. “The statue is gone, Mac. The man who has it paid a huge price for it and will never give it back.”

  Daniel watched that somber face that made Mac look older than he was. The reporter shook his head. “Then we have to find him. We have to get him back. And we have to do it before Von Berg figures out he’s not going to get the statue.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Mac knelt in front of Daniel and took the man in his arms, feeling him shaking. Daniel shook his head against Mac’s neck. “Oh God, I did this to him.”

  “No, we both did.” He kissed Daniel’s cheek, then got up and paced toward the windows with their ocean views. “And we’re going to get him out.”

  “We have to go to the police.”

  “And have you thrown in jail? Shit, no. We’re going to find him.”

  Daniel stared at Mac, glassy-eyed. Then he seemed to pull that bright mind through his panic. “It makes sense that Von Berg would hold him somewhere in New York. He could take him anywhere. But why? He figures I’m just going to cough up the statue and maybe he’ll give me Trelain…or not. He’s ruthless, but he’s also smart. I don’t think he’ll harm Trelain until he has the statue in hand.” He put his head in his hands. “But what if I’m wrong? Oh God, Mac, what if he hurts him, maims him so he can’t dance? What if I ruin his life?”

  “That kind of thinking is poison. It’ll paralyze you. We have to find him. When I go to Von Berg’s tomorrow, I’ll try to get something. No, I will get a clue about the location.”

  “Okay. I’ll have investigators following all his men to see if we can find some movement pattern. Maybe they’ll reveal the location. But damn, it’s all risky. Trelain will be held all night. He’ll be frightened, and who knows what kind of thugs will be keeping him. Shit…if they hurt him.”

  Mac stood and walked behind Daniel’s chair, reaching down and gently massaging his neck. “The police won’t find him any faster, and if they do show up, who knows what those guys will do to Trelain.”

  Daniel’s eyes showed too much white. Mac reached down and circled his neck. “No, no, I don’t mean that. I’m just saying this is the better way. We’ll find him, and we’ll get him back.”

  “If we don’t have a solid lead by tomorrow noon, I’m going to the police.”

  Mac hugged tighter, “Okay. Now, call and get the plane ready.”

  * * *

  Well bloody shit, this was uncomfortable as hell. Trelain looked around the plain, wood-floored room with the one high window. Some kind of warehouse building. Rocking on the wooden chair, he pulled at the ties holding his wrists together behind his back. Wap. His head snapped back from a smack on the skull by some bloody fucking nerd-looking guy with long hair and glasses.

  “Back off, pretty boy. If you get loose, where the hell do you think you’d go? It’s two stories up, and the doors are locked six ways with special security.”

  “Then take these bloody restraints off. Why tie me if I can’t get away?” Trelain twisted again and got another smack.

  “Because the boss told us to tie you, that’s why.”

  “Who the fuck is the boss? Why the hell am I here? You can’t think that no one is going to notice that I’m missing for very long?”

  “No, we feel sure someone will notice you’re missing.” He giggled inanely. “But it’s not likely to be very public, since your ballet company thinks you’re off fucking some billionaire, so no one’s going to be very concerned now, are they?”

  Shit. That was the truth. The ballet company would think he was with Daniel, and Daniel would think he was still finishing up at the company. “So you’re looking for ransom?”

  “Of a sort.”

  A weirdly high, heavily accented voice came from behind Trelain. “Shut your mouth. You talk too much.”

  Okay, that would be the meanest-looking son of a whore Trelain had ever seen. The bloke called Rutger was so scary he was a cliché, but Trelain didn’t feel inclined to laugh. He looked like one of those self-haters who detested fags and, just to prove it, would have to fuck Trelain until he bled. He nearly retched thinking of it… Had to be a way out of this fucking hole before that big bastard worked himself up enough to justify his own cruelty.

  He glanced around. What the nerd said seemed true. Though it was dark now, earlier the tiny sliver of a window showed only sky beyond, suggesting they were high. Only the nerd and the big blond German had come in and out so far, and they seemed to go through an elaborate ritual to accomplish it. Shit. There had to be a way. “May I go to the toilet?”

  The nerd started to stand from his wooden chair like the one Trelain sat on, but the voice from behind stopped him. “I will take him.”

  Bloody hell. Not his intention, that.

  The big man came around and roughly pulled him to his feet. A push sent him toward the closed bathroom door. Trelain made some show of stumbling though, in truth, he could have balanced on a swinging rope over the Grand Canyon. The German opened the door.

  Trelain looked over his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to undo my hands? I can hardly hold my penis in my mouth.”

  For a moment, the German’s unguarded expression conveyed exactly whose mouth he’d want to put that penis in. Trelain shivered. But the man did untie the restraints.

  Trelain unzipped his jeans, then glanced up at the man. “Would you bloody well mind stepping outside or turning around or something?”

  The thin lips curved slightly. “Yes, I would very much mind. Get on with it.”

  Trelain pulled out his cock and made the mistake of glancing up at the German. The huge man’s eyes were riveted on his dick while a tip of tongue wet his lips. Fuck!

  Trelain looked down and breathed deeply, trying to produce a stream of urine from a now very bashful bladder. Intense focus produced a respectable flow. He cleaned off, zipped up, and washed his hands while trying to look around. Like in the outside room, the bathroom wall had a high, narrow window that one would assume would not accommodate a man’s body. Of course, that would be an ordinary man’s body.

  * * *

  Mac’s cell phone rang. One of the many benefits of a private jet. He’d already called Woo and told her he needed some time and that he was abandoning the Terrebone story. She’d been amazingly philosophical.

  “No good leads from that German cat, huh, Mac Mac?”

  When he said no and that he’d lost his taste for the story, he could practically see her shrug. “Always said it was Neverland, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, you did, Woo, and I’m sorry I wasted so much time on the story.”

  “Hey, that ballet dancer story is the biggest thing we ever had from a readership point of view, baby. Didn’t matter if somebody likes ballet or not, that golden guy with no clothes is the biggest heart-stopper of all time. You can’t believe how many new subscribers we got.”

  Mac had to put a hand on his chest to hold back the pain in his heart. “I’m glad, Woo. I’ll try to make this up to you.”

  “Hey, no problemo, kiddo. Let me know when you’re ready to come back. And if you got any more of those dancer pictures, I’ll buy everything the photographer took.”

  “I’ll see. Thanks, Woo.”

  There were reasons why he loved that crazy-like-a-fox woman.

  He looked at his phone screen. Shit, it was Devin calling. Should he wait?
He glanced up to see Daniel engrossed in his own conversation. Okay, hell. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hey, Mac, long time no hear. What’s going on?”

  “Sorry I’ve been so quiet. I’ve had, uh, a lot going on. I’m on my way to New York.”

  “What? You mean right now? I called your cell.”

  “Yeah. It’s a private jet. Long story.”

  “I’ve got time, Son.”

  “Oh, it’s…” Suddenly, some kind of dam cracked. “I’m on my way to New York to try and help Trelain. He’s in trouble.”

  “What? You mean Trelain Medveyev?”

  “You know any others?”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass. What kind of trouble? How can I help?”

  “It’s serious. I can’t talk about it yet, but I will tell you when I can. For now, please don’t tell anyone but maybe Mom. I’m not kidding. It could make matters worse.”

  “Drugs? Women?”

  “Not drugs and, of course, not women. Hell, Dad. Promise me.”

  “I promise.” There was a pause. “Why is it you getting him out of trouble? I didn’t realize you were such good friends.”

  Mac sighed. “You don’t want to know, so don’t ask.”

  There was a longer pause. Mac could feel the tension. “So you are good friends?”

  “Yes, we’re lovers.” No response. “I said you didn’t want to know. If you decide to deal with the fact that your son is gay, give me a call sometime when the man I love is not in trouble.”

  “Mac. Wait. I dealt with the fact that you were likely gay a long time ago. When you never acknowledged it or talked to me and your mother, I thought maybe I was wrong.”

  “What the fuck? Don’t give me that. I never heard anything from you except how crappy it was that people thought you were homosexual when you had a wife and kid.”

  There was a sigh. “Yeah, that’s true. I was and am very sensitive about it. I had a lover before I met your mom. His name was Gavin. I loved him deeply, and he died. I thought I’d never love anyone again until I met your mother and discovered I was bisexual, or at least, I was for her. She knew about Gavin, but I never wanted her to think she was second place in my heart, even though she came into my life second. I’ve been completely faithful to her all these years, and it pisses me off that people would call our wonderful marriage a sham and make her feel like she wasn’t enough to hold me. So yeah, I resent being called gay when I so clearly have a happy heterosexual relationship and family. And I don’t think that men should be forced out of dance because they aren’t gay.”