Endgame (Last Chance Series)

by Dee Davis

  "Except that the man can't stand me." There was a flash of something across her face, something personal. Cullen contained a smile.

  "I think you're overreacting. He's aloof, I'll grant you that. And he certainly doesn't like the idea of sharing command, but it isn't personal. Unless there's something you're not telling me."

  "No." Madison shook her head, still staring at the picture in her hands. "There's nothing."

  "Then I predict you'll manage just fine. You're a valuable asset to the team, Madison, whether Gabriel realizes it or not."

  "Thanks." Her smile was warm, and he felt a flood of emotion. She'd been a part of his life practically from the day of her birth, and at times it was hard for him to realize she was no longer a little girl. "It's not like I haven't handled worse."

  Rick Wagner. He'd taken Madison to the cleaners, both financially and emotionally. She'd fallen for his charm and good looks, not realizing it was only an illusion, that the man himself was nothing but a leech.

  Cullen sighed, sorry that she'd had to find out for herself. That she still bore the scars. But there was nothing he or her father could have done. Some things children had to learn for themselves. No matter the consequences.

  "Cullen, we've got to talk." Jeremy Bosner burst into the room, his face flushed, his anger apparent. He stopped, momentarily flustered to find Madison in the office. "Oh, God. I'm sorry. I've interrupted something."

  Madison held up a hand, shaking her head. "I was just leaving."

  "No, stay." Cullen kept his voice personable, but it wasn't a request.

  Madison shot a look at Jeremy, who nodded his agreement. With an answering nod, she replaced the photograph, moved to sit again in her chair.

  "I just got off the phone with Chiao Chien." Jeremy gave Cullen an appraising look. "We've got to get this thing under control or we're all going down with the ship."

  "I wasn't aware you knew him," Cullen said. Chiao was the primary negotiator for the Chinese delegation, and as far as Cullen knew not a close confidant of Jeremy's.

  "I know who I need to know, Cullen." Jeremy shrugged, walking over to the bar to pour himself a drink.

  "Anything to protect your interests." Cullen sat back, watching his friend, trying to read between the lines. Jeremy always had hidden agendas.

  "As if you haven't been doing the same thing. The honest truth is that we both have a hell of a lot riding on the success of this agreement. And with consortium members dropping like flies we've got problems. According to Chiao the delegation is restless—afraid that whatever it is that's plaguing us will turn on them, as well."

  "I don't think that's going to happen." Cullen steepled his fingers, still studying the man. "And I've said as much to Chiao."

  "Well, I think you're wrong, especially if the media keeps us front and center." He tossed a copy of the Daily News on the table, Candace Patterson's face splashed across the front page. "I thought the task force was supposed to take care of this." He shot a look at Madison, his expression a mixture of anger and apology. He'd always had a weak spot for Madison.

  "Jeremy, we've only been working a few days." Madison's tone was neutral. "These things take time."

  "I know you're trying." Jeremy's voice rose, his flush deepening. "But time is running out."

  "They're professionals, Jeremy. They'll get to the bottom of this." Cullen pushed the newspaper aside, and leaned forward to meet his friend's gaze.

  "Well, they'd better do it quickly or it'll be a pointless exercise." Jeremy sighed. "The Chinese are ready to walk. All we need is one more murder and they'll be signing with the Russians. And I don't have to tell you how that will sit with the president."

  "It's a bluff. You know as well as I do that Russian technology is far from cutting edge. The Chinese need us. Their threats are nothing more than posturing. At most it might cost us a bit in the deal, but they won't walk."

  "You'd better be right." There was an implied threat there that Cullen couldn't afford to ignore. "Or we may just need to rethink your value as a member of the consortium."

  Cullen's laughter was forced, a cover for the surge of dread that ran through him. "I don't see how you can lay any of this at my feet. I've been screaming about conspiracy for months now."

  Jeremy shrugged. "Let's just say if we need a scapegoat, you're it. You knew the risks when you stepped in to take Bingham's place."

  Madison shifted slightly. Cullen had almost forgotten she was in the room. He returned his attention to Jeremy, struggling to hang on to his composure. "I did what I thought was best for the consortium."

  "Without asking anyone else's opinion."

  "Are you saying that Cullen assumed the chairmanship unilaterally?" Madison asked, her voice deceptively soft.

  "Not exactly," Jeremy allowed. "I only meant that there were others equally qualified. Possibly even more so."

  "You're talking about yourself." Cullen threw the word out like a gauntlet.

  "I was next in line." Jeremy shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "And there are people who think I might have been a better bet. Look, the whole idea was to keep this all on the back burner until we got to the bottom of what was happening. But thanks to all of this, we're getting more attention than ever. The murders are continuing. And your team has done nothing."

  "I told you, we've been together for less than a week,"

  Madison interrupted, anger flashing in her eyes. "In that amount of time you can't expect miracles."

  "I know that, Madison. And I'm not trying to throw stones. Especially at you." His look was imploring. "But I need this accord to go through, and for my investment to pay off. It's as simple as that. And no matter how unpleasant the prospect, I'll do whatever is necessary to make sure that's exactly what happens." His attention shifted back to Cullen. "Am I making myself clear?"

  Cullen swallowed a bitter retort. There was no sense antagonizing the man. "I hear what you're saying, but I think you're worrying about nothing. Madison and Gabriel have excellent credentials. Between them they'll put a stop to this. Mark my words."

  "I hope so," Jeremy said, his gaze encompassing them both. "If not, there'll be hell to pay. If this accord fails, Cullen, I'll be the least of your problems."

  *****

  "WELL, IF THIS IS HOW the other half lives, I, for one, wouldn't mind giving it a go." Gabe stepped into the heavily paneled entry hall, his eyes passing over the lavish fittings to settle on what could only be an original Picasso.

  "Appearances can be deceiving," Nigel whispered, watching the butler disappear behind a pair of double mahogany doors. Candace Patterson's family was definitely part of the moneyed elite that made up much of Westchester County.

  "You sound as if you know." Gabe pulled his attention from the Picasso to frown at Nigel.

  "There have been moments. And believe me, that's more than enough."

  Gabe opened his mouth to retort, but before he could do so a woman stepped into the foyer. She looked to be about sixty, her white hair fashionably cut and arranged with the precision of a military assault. Her suit reeked of money, and Gabriel had no doubt that the diamonds at her throat and ears were real.

  "I'm Bertrice Patterson." Her voice was low and husky, the telltale mark of a smoker. "Gibson tells me you're with the police?"

  "Actually, we're a bit higher up the ladder." Gabe flashed his credentials.

  "The FBI? I'm afraid I don't understand."

  Gabriel didn't bother to correct her. The less she knew about who they really were, the better. "We're investigating your daughter's murder."

  "I thought it was a robbery?" She fidgeted with her bracelet, spoiling her studied impression of calm.

  Gabe exchanged a glance with Nigel. "Forensics indicates she was already dead when she was robbed."

  "Oh, dear God." The woman's hand rose to her throat. "I had no idea."

  "Preliminary findings supported a mugging. You'd no way of knowing." Nigel's voice was calming, his smile gentle.

  "
I think I'd best sit down." She drew a deep fortifying breath, and motioned them through the mahogany doors.

  Gabriel followed her into the room, taking in its understated opulence. "Did your daughter have any enemies, Mrs. Patterson?" It was a standard question, and he didn't expect her to have an answer, but it was a way to relieve some of the tension, to focus her grief toward a solution.

  "Not that I know of." She'd linked her hands together, her knuckles white with the effort. "But then we hadn't talked recently."

  "You were estranged?" Nigel had taken a seat on a chaise, his posture giving the illusion of breeding, as if he sat in millionaires' mansions on a daily basis. Mrs. Patterson's smile was weak, but genuine.

  "Not at all. We were quite close. Normally, we talked daily. But she was so busy at work. She hardly ever made it home."

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

  "She had an apartment in the city. When she had an early meeting or was planning on being out late, she stayed there instead of coming home."

  Nigel frowned. "What about her husband?"

  Bertrice shook her head, disapproval radiating from her very pores. "He rarely goes to the city anymore."

  "Is he unwell?" Nigel asked.

  "No." She shook her head, her diamonds swaying with the motion. "Just lazy. Fundamentally so, I'm afraid."

  "Is the marriage sound?" Gabriel wondered suddenly if perhaps they'd missed the boat on this one. Maybe there was another suspect.

  "In its own way, I suppose. They seem to tolerate each other. And for whatever reason Candace showed no interest in divorce."

  "Is it possible he may have felt differently?"

  Bertrice laughed, the sound hollow. "Believe me, he hasn't the gumption for something like that. And besides, there's a prenup. With Candace gone, he's left high and dry."

  "What about work?"

  "I wouldn't know anything at all about that." She shrugged. "You'd need to ask her father."

  Nigel frowned. "I wasn't aware that Mr. Patterson had anything to do with Lexco."

  Again she laughed, but this time the sound was more natural. "He doesn't. But then he isn't Candace's real father. I'm afraid I was a bit indiscreet in my younger days. Fortunately Harold overlooked the fact." She waved a bejeweled hand through the air as though dismissing the memory. "Lex Rymon is Candace's father. Although it was years before Candace got him to own up to the fact. Rather a complicated mess, our family."

  "Was Mr. Rymon close to your daughter?"

  "They got along, but I'd say it was more a business understanding than a father-daughter relationship. My daughter was single-minded about making it on her own. Lex gave her the opportunity to do just that."

  "Work for her father." Nigel was stating the obvious, but his tone conveyed much more.

  "In a manner, yes. But not in the usual Daddy's-little-girl way. Believe me, she wouldn't have lasted at Lexco if she wasn't up to it. Lex simply wouldn't have allowed it."

  "I take it he's not the sentimental type."

  Her smile was brittle. "In our circles sentiment is dangerous."

  Gabe sensed the interview was over. He stood up, not sure exactly what they'd gained, but accepting that it was time to move on. "Thank you for your time."

  Nigel followed his lead, standing up, his expression conciliatory. "We're sorry to have intruded."

  "It's all right," she said, her gaze encompassing them both. "I want to know what happened to my daughter, and anything you gentlemen can do toward that end is a welcome intrusion."

  The butler materialized at her side, almost from thin air, and with a stiff nod, escorted them from the room. Gabe stepped out into the sunlight, squinting in the afternoon glare.

  "Well, that was a colossal waste of time." Nigel reached into his coat pocket for his sunglasses, and put them on, the action masking his expression.

  "Probably so. But at least we can be fairly certain that Candace's relatives didn't do her in. From lack of interest if nothing else."

  Nigel shrugged, lighting a cigarette. "They don't call them the idle rich for nothing, mate."

  Gabe laughed. "It was sort of Stepford-wifeish, wasn't it?"

  "And then some. Still, all of it added together makes her involvement with the accord seem a likely motive. The question, of course, is how do we prove it?"

  "Well, first off, I think we have to talk to Lex Rymon."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MADISON SAT BACK in her chair, massaging her temples. She'd reread the files, trying to find something that tied the victims together. But beyond their wealthy background and their ties to the business consortium and the accord, there was nothing unique. Which meant that it was going to be hard to predict who would be the next target. Like looking for a needle in a haystack. A defined haystack, but nevertheless a difficult if not impossible task.

  The most obvious targets were Cullen, Kingston and Jeremy. They each had principal roles in the upcoming summit and all three held positions of power within the consortium. Although she'd also been able to identify about six others who held similar roles, and another twenty who had primary roles in one area or another. Add to that the fifty member companies, and the list could potentially be inexhaustible.

  The primary question, of course, was how much they should be told. Obviously some degree of concern for safety was necessary. But too much information would only cause panic, the result being that the Chinese would head for the hills and the accord would be dead.

  Madison sighed and pushed her hair behind her ears. She needed a break.

  Payton was over in the corner, typing on a laptop that looked like more like it belonged on the starship Enterprise than in their operations room. He'd sequestered himself almost as soon as Gabriel had issued orders, and best as she could tell, hadn't moved since.

  "Any luck?" She walked over to lean against the corner of a desk, looking down at him.

  He closed the computer with a snap and swiveled to face her. "Nothing concrete. I've been talking to some of my Chinese contacts, and they're definitely aware of what's been happening. Not only the deaths, but the fact that we've been called in."

  "And is that a good thing or a bad thing?" She wasn't sure what to make of Payton Reynolds. He was self-contained like Gabriel, but without his sense of confidence. Almost as if Payton forced himself to keep the world at bay.

  Despite the scar, he was the kind of man who could easily disappear into the background. Which if his dossier was to be believed, he'd made into an art form. Stealth as a commodity. But it had taken its toll. Too many hours on his own, pretending to be something he wasn't. It was there in the lines of his face and the hollows under his eyes. Dancing with darkness had a price. And Madison had the feeling that Payton Reynolds had paid—more than once.

  "A little of both, I suspect." His answer was clipped, as if he really wasn't prepared to offer anything more, but she was his commanding officer in a way, and if she wanted to actualize the role she had to be willing to stand her ground.

  "Meaning what exactly?" She straightened up, giving her an even better height advantage, prepared to go the distance if he continued to hold out on her.

  Instead, he smiled, the gesture changing his face, casting the scar into shadow, his craggy face suddenly handsome. "There's nothing I'm keeping from you, if that's what you're implying. Unlike Gabriel, I've got no problem with chain of command."

  He'd read her like a book, and Madison found herself smiling in return. "I just need to know where we stand with the Chinese. It'll make it easier to decide how much of what we suspect should be made public."

  He nodded, considering the question, then tipped back his chair so that he could see her more easily. "As I said, I talked to some of my contacts, and most of them seem to agree that although the delegates are getting restless, they're not ready to pull out of the game just yet."

  Madison frowned, leaning back against the desk. "You said most of them. Was there a dissenter?"

  "One." Payton crossed his arms.
"Lin Yao. Not his real name, of course." His eyes flickered with mischief. "I'd have to kill you if I told you that."

  He was laughing, but there was unmistakable sincerity in his voice, and Madison wondered for a moment what exactly Payton had been doing in China.

  "I just want to know what he said."

  "First you have to understand that not all the Chinese want the government to make a deal with the United States."

  "I realize we have enemies in China, Payton, but surely it's getting better."

  "No." He shook his head. "You're missing the point. The United States isn't the problem. The Chinese government is. And there are forces at work within the country that would do anything to make sure that the current regime is unable to maintain its power."

  "And getting technological aid from the U.S. would be counter to that mission."

  "Exactly. Unfortunately Lin Yao has no solid evidence. Just innuendo and rumor. My guess is even if Chinese dissidents are involved, they've hired an outside source. Someone with nothing to lose except a paycheck."

  "A mercenary."

  The word hung between them for a moment, and then Payton's grin reappeared. "Something like that. Or maybe someone who has another gripe with the accord. Someone who couldn't be traced back to the Chinese."

  "And of course he has no idea who this person might be."

  He shook his head. "Nope. But he's going to do some digging."

  "Why would he help us?"

  "He wouldn't." Payton shrugged. "But he owes me. And I owe Gabriel. So there you go."

  "The mission in Iraq?" The question was out before she could stop it.

  Payton's expression hardened. "It was a long time ago." It was a clear dismissal, but she pressed on anyway, compelled by something she couldn't quite identify.

  "Cullen told me a little bit about it."

  "Cullen Pulaski is a fool." There was no mistaking the animosity in Payton's voice.