by Mary Birk
Reid went over and pulled the papers off the printer and started to read them. Then he exhaled, suddenly inflated with hope. “We’ve got a hit. These two have to be the ones we want. But what the hell was Von Zandt doing inviting Anne to a dinner these slime would be at? Why would he take such a chance that she’d tell someone their names?”
Allison took a drink of coffee, staring at her computer screen. “Typical man. He wasn’t thinking with his big head. On the tapes, Moira said he wanted to show Lady Anne off like she was his girlfriend or something.” As if realizing what she’d said, Allison’s eyes got huge and she put her hand over her mouth.
“Were there any biscuits, guv?” Harry quickly interrupted, and out of the corner of his eye, Reid saw him shaking his head at Allison to be quiet.
Reid pretended not to notice the exchange. “Is this what I’m relegated to now? Getting coffee and biscuits?” He grumbled. “There aren’t any biscuits. But I do have chocolates.” He patted his jacket pocket, drawing out the small box. He tossed them to Allison. “Moira gave them to me—actually they were intended for my wife, but they ended up in my pocket. Apparently they’re a party favor or something.”
“Wonderful.” Allison opened the box. There was a silence, then she said, “Guv?”
“What?”
“These aren’t chocolates.” She pulled out a mass of wires. “This is the wire I fitted up for Lady Anne.”
* * * * *
There was already a watch at all exit points from the United Kingdom for the men using the names Anne had given, and as soon as the police artist finished with the drawings from Anne’s descriptions, they’d broadcast those as well. Reid wanted all of the men picked up if they were still in the country, but if they’d already left, he’d need help finding them from Interpol. He picked up the telephone and started to dial.
After Reid had relayed the information and been assured that all possible measures would be taken to apprehend the men, he went over to Allison’s desk. He picked up the wire and the chocolate box and put them into his pocket, then checked on Oscar’s progress accessing the accounts that were to receive the midnight transfer of funds, as well as the account that had received the transfer earlier that day.
The only noise in the room was the sound of light tapping on keyboards and soft curses coming from Harry as he worked. Then, suddenly, a crow of triumph erupted, and Harry shot up from his seat. “These accounts are the genuine article, guv. I’ve just gotten confirmation.”
“You’re sure?” Reid was almost afraid to believe they had finally done it.
“Positive. Eight accounts funneling millions from the Nigerian extremists to offshore accounts that are in turn going to the financing of the jihads involved.”
“Bravo, Harry. Good job. I’ll make the call for authorization, then. You can divert the funds?”
“Yeah, and shut the accounts down, or at least zero them out. But they’ve got transactions scheduled to occur at midnight, so unless you want to take a chance at ending up holding the bag after the money’s flown away, we’d better do it soon. As I mentioned before, someone already transferred four million pounds out early this evening. Though I’m thinking if we act quickly, we might still be able to get that back.”
“How?”
“Reverse the transaction. Unless it’s been moved again, in which case we’re out of luck.”
“Try.”
“Just give me the word and I’ll get on it.”
Reid picked up the telephone, and again spoke quietly into it. He held the receiver, waiting for McMurty to come back on the line with the authorization to seize the accounts. He covered the receiver, and asked Harry, “Millions? How many?”
Harry stared at the screen, did some mental calculations, screwing up his face as he thought. “Looks like about sixty million pounds all together.”
Reid raised his eyebrows and told McMurty the number. There was another wait, then McMurty spoke, giving him the go ahead. He broke the connection and nodded to Harry.
“Go for it. Clean them out and get back any transfers you can.”
Harry grinned and went to work.
Reid went over to Allison and handed her the printouts on the two Nigerians. “As there are no photos of these men, when we get the identikit drawings, if the men haven’t been picked up, I want the drawings on the news. Good job on this, Allison.” He patted her shoulder before moving on to see what Oscar had found.
Allison, seeming to register his return to the use of her first name, and what that meant, said quietly, “Thanks, guv.”
Harry turned to her, put his thumb up and winked.
Reid pretended not to see her nod back with a small, relieved smile.
Chapter 86
“YOU’RE JUST IN A ROTTEN MOOD because Anne’s gone.” Moira kicked off her shoes and helped herself to a vodka from the small refrigerator camouflaged to look like just another of the cupboards of the bookcases in Walter’s office. Walter hadn’t said anything when Moira had taken Anne’s place next to him at the table after Lord Reid had taken Anne away, or when Moira had refused to have anything more to do with the Nigerians, but she was expecting she’d hear about it now. Bringing up Anne might take his mind off her own disobedience.
Walter took his own drink over to the desk, sat down, and opened his laptop computer, not even bothering to look at her. Uneasiness skittered along her spine. She’d done some risky things when she was mad about the Nigerians. Not only had she given Anne the account information, but first, she’d scheduled a transfer of four million pounds to her own account, an account she’d set up simultaneously in another name.
If he was planning to check his accounts, he might see what she’d done. It wasn’t yet midnight, but if he was checking on his own scheduled transfers, he’d likely discover what she’d done. She didn’t regret it, thinking of what he’d wanted her to do with the Nigerians, but she didn’t want him to find out, either. She needed to distract him.
“Walter, don’t work. Can’t we just spend some time together alone?”
“Don’t be tiresome, Moira. I have work to do. Go up to bed.”
“Come with me.” Usually, after a party like this, he wanted sex. Heavy sex, and if he was in a bad mood, mean sex. His mean sex could leave her exhausted, but she needed to keep him away from the computer, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before. She had to keep him distracted until she decided what to do. The way she saw it, she had two choices. She could either reverse the transfer before he found out, or let it go forward and make sure she was long gone when Walter found out.
“Not tonight.” He turned on his computer, and the screen went through its usual machinations while the system booted up.
“You’re mad at me about those Nigerians, aren’t you?” If he didn’t want sex, she was going to have to make him fight with her to get him away from the computer.
Walter waved his hand as if to shoo her away, and drained the contents of his glass. “Go to bed. You’re bothering me.”
This wasn’t like him. He wanted her to either obey him mindlessly, or disobey so he could punish her. Ignoring her disobedience was something he’d never done before.
She just needed to push him a little more to get him angry enough to decide he needed to discipline her. “That’s so bloody unfair. It’s bad enough that you’d want me to sleep with another man, but with both of them? That’s twisted.” She leaned against the desk, trying to put herself between him and the computer.
He pushed her away trying to reach the computer. “Don’t be ridiculous. I simply asked that you entertain them. I never said anything about you having sex with them. I’d already arranged to have women brought in and waiting in their rooms for them. If you want to know the truth, they insisted on virgins, so you didn’t even qualify. Rebecca sent over some girls she’s just acquired. I’m sure they’re being well-taken care of even as we speak.”
She felt a deep, raw relief at the same time she realized what a terrible mi
stake she’d made. “Oh, my God. And I thought . . .”
Walter held up his empty glass, commanding service, but still not looking at her. “I can’t even imagine where you would come up with such an idiotic idea.”
Moira took his glass from his hand and refilled it from the cognac decanter in the globe drinks table. Her mind was racing. She’d been such an idiot. Of course he hadn’t wanted her to be with another man. They loved each other. She closed her eyes, thinking about what she’d done giving the account information to Anne. She needed to warn him that Anne now had his financial information. But not until she could come up with a story that didn’t implicate herself, and not until she undid the transfer to her account, because there was no way to explain that. She could do it from any computer, but not if he was logged into his accounts.
She padded over to him and handed him the cognac, kissing him on the top of his head. He accepted the refilled glass without a word of thanks. She sat down on the arm of his chair and put her arms around him. Easing one hand down his chest, she began to unbutton his shirt. If he wouldn’t fight, she’d have to try again to distract him with sex. He untangled himself from her, swatting her hand away, and pushed her off his chair. “You’re going to make me spill my drink. Go up to bed.”
“What’s wrong?” Had he already found out what she’d done? Did he have something awful already planned for her? Was one of his men waiting for her when she left him? Terror seized Moira’s chest and her mind searched for a new plan. Maybe she should just confess. She’d confess, and he’d punish her, then he’d forgive her because she’d only done it because she loved him and she’d been hurt thinking he wanted to share her.
“Just go up to bed, Moira. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
But by tomorrow he’d know about the transfer, unless she kept him away from the computer long enough to cancel it. Whatever it took, she had to keep him away from the computer.
“Let’s talk tonight.” She gave him her best I-really-need-you-to-fuck-me face. “In bed.”
He looked at her as if she were some dirty beggar on the street asking for spare change. “Moira, I don’t want to have this conversation tonight.”
“What conversation?” Her mouth went dry. He had found out. He was just going to make her squirm all night, then he’d have her killed.
He glared at her. “All right, if you insist, we’ll do it now.”
She swallowed, waiting for what could be her death sentence.
But he just gave an annoyed sigh. “The time has come for us to go our separate ways.”
Moira felt her face tighten and go numb with an odd combination of relief and surprise. “What?”
“I’m finished with you.” His voice was completely impersonal. Impersonal, not furious. So he didn’t know about what she’d done. He was, what? Breaking up with her?
His next words almost knocked her off her feet.
“But you don’t need to worry. Frederick wants you.”
“Frederick?” She choked out the name. “Freddie?”
“He seems to think he’s in love with you.”
“Freddie? Walter, are you crazy?”
He shot her a quelling look. “It makes perfect sense. You’d be financially comfortable and he’ll be devoted to you. He assures me that he would be able to put your liaison with me out of his mind. What’s more, he’s willing to take you, not as a mistress, but as his wife.”
“Willing to take me? Walter, are you saying you’d be able to see me with your son and not care?” This was almost worse than him wanting her to do a one-time thing with the Nigerians.
“Don’t be absurd. Why would I care?”
Moira shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. “But I love you.”
Walter flipped his hand up as if to indicate that her feelings didn’t matter. “You’ll get over it.”
“Don’t you love me at all?”
“Don’t be a child. I enjoyed you for a time, but that’s all.” His tone signaled his boredom with the topic. “Frederick will make you a good husband, Moira, and, frankly, you’re bloody lucky he wants you.”
Moira tried to control the panic pulsing through her. She had to think. “You seem sure I’ll agree.” She barely managed to keep the tremble out of her voice.
“It’s your best option. You and Frederick are friends, he wants you, and you’ll both be comfortable financially. That’s not a bad foundation for a marriage.”
She would not bring up Frederick’s disabilities. Even now, she knew better than to imply his son was anything less than a desirable marriage partner.
“You also seem to work well together,” he added, smiling for the first time since this horrendous conversation had started.
“Work well together? The only work we did together was for you.”
Walter’s smile vanished. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Anger rushed through her, almost pushing out her fear. “I’m talking about taking care of Richard and that cop. You told Freddie what to do, but you knew he couldn’t do it by himself. I helped him, but it was for you, not for him.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Moira.” He went on, his voice completely empty of emotion. “I’m offering you a simple choice. It’s up to you. If you accept Frederick’s proposal, the two of you can stay in the flat. If you decide not to accept Frederick’s proposal, you have until the end of the month to vacate the flat and figure out a way to replace the allowance I’ve been giving you.” He bared his teeth in a cold, scary smile. “I’m sure I could get you a job in one of Rebecca’s whorehouses.”
“You bastard.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Moira. Frederick is your best alternative and I strongly suggest you take him. Now get out. I still have work to do and it’s close to midnight. Shut the door when you leave.”
* * * * *
When the door slammed behind Moira, Walter Von Zandt picked up the house phone and called Frederick’s room. Things were coming together as well as could be expected. A few setbacks—Reid showing up, Anne leaving the house temporarily—but the dinner had gone well, and he was rid of Elisa and Moira. As an added bonus, if Moira accepted Frederick’s offer, his son would be happy.
As for his own plans, he’d talk with Anne again when she came back to work. He’d convince her that he would give her a much better life, a much happier life, than she’d ever have with her idiot of a husband. He allowed himself a brief moment to think about Anne coming to him before Frederick’s voice came on the other end of the line.
“Father?”
“I’ve told Moira about your offer. You need to go to her.”
“Now? I thought you said tomorrow.” Frederick’s voice was agitated in that odd way he had. “I’m not prepared. I wanted to have flowers, the ring.”
“That can wait. Just go to her. She’s on her way to her room right now.”
“Father? What did she say?”
Von Zandt considered his response. “She was surprised, but I think she likes the idea.”
“Really?” Frederick’s words trembled with excitement.
“She may play hard to get for a while, but don’t worry about it. She’s yours. Just go to her. If she gives you any trouble, let me know.” He hung up, then pulled up his accounts to ensure that the scheduled transfers for the next phase of the Nigerians’ operation went through.
Chapter 87
MOIRA NEEDED time to think. Walter had been getting on to his computer even as she was leaving. What if he found out she took the money? Or worse, even, found out she’d copied all the account information and given it to Anne? Even marrying Frederick wouldn’t save her then.
He’d kill her.
She couldn’t be anywhere within his reach when he found out. She had to get away fast, and she had to do it without any help from anyone, especially not from her mother. Her mother was totally dependent on Walter now for financial support. Besides, she remembered how her mother had ignored her pleas not to
be sent to Walter in the first place.
Actually, her situation then had been similar to the one she was in today. Her mother had told her that for the good of the family she needed to go to Walter, and that she needed to make him want to keep her as long as possible. She was to do whatever he wanted. Richard and her mother had made it clear that if she didn’t, they’d have nothing else to do with her. So she’d gone, and she’d not really regretted it until now, because she’d fallen in love with Walter.
Moira thought about her options.
If she somehow got the transfer cancelled before Walter realized what she’d done, she could stay. But not with Walter. The bastard had basically ordered her to marry Freddie. Fury mixed with humiliation pulsed through her veins. She’d been doing what Walter wanted since she was sixteen, and she’d tried so hard to please him. How could he want her to marry Freddie? To sleep with Freddie the rest of her life? Freddie was nice, but sort of . . . weird. And she was definitely not attracted to him. That watery eye was all right for a friend, but for a lover? Ick.
No, this time she wasn’t going to do what Walter wanted. If he didn’t love her, she sure wasn’t going to let him tell her how to live her life. She would have her own money now, and she could do what she wanted.
Moira opened her bedroom door, her mind still planning the steps of her escape. She drew in her breath in surprise when she saw the lamp by the bed was on. She was sure she’d turned it off when she’d gone down to dinner with Anne.
The guards must have searched her room after all and left the light on. But they wouldn’t have found anything. Moira had made sure of that. She closed her bedroom door and reached around her back to unzip her dress, just as she registered someone else’s presence. She spun around, and her hand went to her throat in shock, until she realized who it was. A beaming Frederick stood leaning against the wall, watching her. He looked more nervous than she’d ever seen him.
He straightened up, moving toward her. “Are you all right, Moira? Did I startle you?”