by Zoe Sharp
I was tempted to give chase, but Cerdo’s nerves were in tatters and Dina was struggling to hold onto him with only one good leg to balance on. With a last regretful glance in the direction of our attackers, I managed to get a hand through the horse’s headcollar and tried to calm him. He took some convincing that it was all over.
Out of sight, an engine cranked and fired. I caught a glimpse of a medium-sized van, possibly a Chevy Astro, go fishtailing over the gravel towards the driveway and freedom. It was moving fast and there was enough dirt liberally spread across the licence plate to make identification impossible.
Dina hobbled over to Raleigh and helped him sit up. He had turned a disconcerting shade of pale green and was clutching his arm. Dina wasn’t looking much better.
‘Be careful he doesn’t throw up on you,’ I told her. She flashed me a look of distaste and said nothing. Cerdo had finally stopped trying to rip himself free of my grasp and was standing with his head low, blowing hard through flared nostrils, his muscles quivering.
Running feet nearly set him off again and I saw Hunt and Orlando hurrying across the gravel. I made a ‘slow down’ gesture with my hand behind me and they finished their approach at a more cautious pace.
‘What happened?’ Orlando demanded, eyes huge as she took in Cerdo’s distress and Raleigh’s obvious signs of injury. ‘Did the horses get into a fight?’
Dina’s face snapped in my direction and I saw the sudden pleading in her expression.
‘Something like that,’ I agreed, rubbing Cerdo’s damp ears. It was true, after all – to a point. I just didn’t say who or what he’d been fighting.
Hunt helped get Raleigh to his feet, swaying. He stared at me through a hazy filter of pain and shock. ‘What the bloody hell—?’
‘Don’t talk,’ I said quickly, a warning wrapped up as solicitude. I glanced at Hunt. ‘Perhaps you could take him back to the yard and get some sugar down him.’
Hunt nodded. Orlando began insisting that Raleigh go to the nearest ER and that distracted him from questions into making half-hearted protests about not leaving the yard unattended.
‘We can stay—’ Dina began, but I silenced her with a cutting stare.
‘We’re leaving,’ I said firmly. ‘Your leg needs ice and elevation, and both horses need a night in their own stable to calm down from all of this.’
And I want you somewhere secure.
Dina might have thought about arguing, but not for long. She nodded meekly and limped back to take the lead rope from me. ‘Where’s Geronimo?’
‘He shot through the yard like his tail was on fire,’ Hunt said. ‘One of the girls caught him, I think. I’ll check.’
I nodded my thanks and he and Orlando walked back towards the horse barns with Raleigh stumbling dazedly between them. I leant down and picked up the baseball bat our attacker had dropped, handling it carefully even though I knew there was little chance of useable prints.
Movement caught my eye and I glanced across towards the yard, only to see two figures standing by the edge of one of the buildings, staring at us. It wasn’t hard, at that distance, to recognise Torquil and his bulky bodyguard, the one he’d dismissed while he watched Dina finish her lesson. Now, the man was glued to his shoulder, tense, head constantly moving to survey the scene with his hand never far from the weapon hidden beneath his open jacket.
But it was Torquil himself who really caught my eye. He stood with both hands clenched at his sides, shoulders hunched and his neck rigid. I had no idea how long he had been there, or how much he’d seen, but where I expected to see shock, or maybe even a tinge of excitement at what he’d just witnessed, instead it looked for all the world like someone had just broken his newest best toy.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘I don’t know who those two were,’ I said, ‘but they were amateurs.’
‘Tell that to poor Raleigh – they bust his arm,’ Dina said tartly. ‘And if they were so amateur, how come you didn’t catch them?’
I heard the slightly shrill note in her voice and resisted the urge to snap at her, taking a quiet inhalation before I spoke. We were back safe in the living area of the Willners’ house. Caroline Willner was in her customary seat with its back to the windows. Opposite was Parker Armstrong, while Dina and I were on another sofa to the side.
Parker had not come alone, arriving with Erik Landers in tow. Landers was a big guy from Colorado, solidly built, ex-US Marine Corps and proud of his service. He still carried himself with that fierce pride, took everything a little too seriously, never let standards slip. He was utterly dependable in a firefight, but was still adjusting to the very different world of executive close protection. Parker had struggled to persuade him to let his hair grow longer than the regulation millimetre of fuzz.
Landers currently stood behind Dina and me like a sentinel. Dina had changed into a pair of denim hot pants – which looked ‘distressed’ via an expensive designer label rather than prolonged wear and tear – and a silk T-shirt. She had her foot up on a stool with an ice pack draped over her knee. I, too, had taken the trouble to change when I’d finished unloading the horses and now presented my client and my boss with as tidy and unruffled a facade as I could conjure.
I’d called Parker from the riding club and he’d surprised me by coming out right away, arriving back at the house before we did. I hoped that the only reason he’d arrived so fast – and brought Landers with him – was in case I needed more permanent backup, rather than to demonstrate a lack of trust in my ability to handle the situation on my own.
‘Why didn’t I catch them?’ I repeated, keeping my tone even and pleasant. ‘Because that’s not my job, Dina. My job is prevention, not cure.’
‘Which you appear to have done quite well,’ Caroline Willner said, her voice dispassionate. ‘Nevertheless, it is … unfortunate that these people escaped when the opportunity might perhaps have presented itself to apprehend them.’
Before I could defend my actions, Parker spoke for me. ‘Charlie couldn’t have gone after them without leaving your daughter unacceptably exposed,’ he pointed out. ‘It has been known for the initial attack to be just a diversionary tactic to try and draw off the close-protection team.’ He met my eyes, just the hint of a smile lurking in his. ‘And while it may be somewhat unorthodox to throw a horse at an inbound threat, there’s no doubt what she did was effective.’
But despite the praise, I heard vague disappointment in his voice.
‘Next time,’ I promised gravely, ‘I’ll throw it harder.’
His cheek twitched in an otherwise stony face. ‘Unfortunately, I think it’s likely that there will be a next time,’ he said. ‘They’ve tried once and been unsuccessful. They may feel they now have your measure and try again – with more … determination next time.’ He pinned me with a gaze that willed me not to make an issue of this. ‘That’s why I’ve brought Erik out to join you, purely as a little extra insurance. So, if they do make another run at Dina, you might just be able to grab one of them without putting her in harm’s way.’
‘No!’ Dina said, more sharp than firm. ‘I don’t want anyone else.’ She twisted to offer the man behind us an appealing smile. ‘No offence to you, Mr Landers, but I want Charlie.’
‘Dina, be reasonable,’ her mother said stiffly. ‘We’re merely trying to keep you safe.’
‘I am safe,’ she said. ‘You asked me to accept a bodyguard, and I’ve done that. Now you want me to have two. Where does it end – with me barricaded into my room, afraid to leave the house?’
Mother and daughter locked gazes, duelling silently. It was Dina who gave way first, but her weary yet dignified tone was more effective than any shouted argument. ‘Leave things as they are, Mother – please. I’ll be fine.’
‘You’re taking risks,’ Caroline Willner said quietly. ‘I … don’t like it.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Dina repeated. Her body was tense. More was at stake here than just the question of an additional bodyguard
. I wondered again at the power plays between them, about Dina’s refusal to go to Europe, and who was winning their long-running, tortuous game.
After a moment longer, Caroline Willner sighed. ‘All right, darling,’ she said, glancing down as if distracted by an imaginary speck on her dress. ‘In that case, Mr Armstrong, I’m afraid I must decline your offer of extra protection, and trust to Ms Fox to do her best.’
‘She always does,’ Parker murmured. He rose, inclined his head to them both, his manner almost courtly in his capitulation. ‘Charlie. See me out, would you?’
‘Of course.’
I led both men down to the entrance hall and through the massive front doors into the gentle warmth of the late afternoon. Landers stepped to the edge and stood looking outward, head moving slowly as he checked the perimeter, the neighbouring houses, and the view of the road. The Navigator that had brought Parker and Landers out to Long Island sat off to one side of the driveway under the shade of the trees. It looked small in a space that would have swallowed a dozen limousines.
I could see by the tilt of his head that Landers was waiting for what Parker would say to me with avid concentration, but I suppose I couldn’t really blame him for that.
Parker had leant back against the low wall that bordered the front of the house. ‘You carrying?’
Wordlessly, I reached under my open jacket and slipped the SIG from its holster. I thumbed the release to drop the magazine, worked the action to send the chambered round tumbling out onto the paving at his feet. I showed him the open breech to prove the gun was safe as I dumped it into his hands. Then I stooped to retrieve the fallen round, wiped it with my fingers and thumbed it back into the magazine, handing that over, too.
Parker gave the SIG no more than a cursory inspection, weighed the magazine in his palm to judge the load before slotting it back into the pistol grip without a fumble, even though his eyes never left my face. He could have done it all just the same in the dark.
He returned the weapon without comment. I pinched back the slide to feed in the first round again, the action working with a slick metallic double click, well oiled and well cycled. The SIG had no conventional safety catch, only a slide lock to hold the action back. Carried with the first round already chambered, it was instantly ready for use.
‘So why didn’t you use it?’ Parker asked, as if reading my thoughts.
I tucked the gun away under the hem of my jacket, smoothed the cloth down again over the top. ‘Are you honestly telling me you’d rather be up to your neck in policemen at this very moment?’ I asked. ‘Because if I’d drawn on the guy, the only way I could have stopped him was to shoot him. I wasn’t prepared to use deadly force against a man armed with a piece of sports equipment. I don’t suppose you’re likely to get anything from the bat he left behind, incidentally?’
‘You said they were wearing gloves, so I doubt it, and it’s a cheap make, available from just about any sporting goods outlet,’ Parker said, brushing aside my attempt to divert him. ‘And you didn’t know for sure he wasn’t carrying.’
‘I didn’t know he was, either,’ I countered. ‘And if he was armed, why did he bother clobbering the riding instructor? Why take the risk of losing control of the situation by physically engaging with Raleigh when he could have simply stood back and threatened all of us into submission at the outset?’
Parker’s eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘Did you work all this out at the time, or after?’
I smiled. ‘If the first guy had shot Raleigh instead of smashing his arm, Parker, I would have put two through his mouth in a heartbeat, of that you need have no doubts.’
Parker’s answering smile was rueful. ‘Yeah, I guess you would,’ he said. He leant back against the wall again and folded his arms, reminding me painfully of Sean. ‘I just needed to make sure you didn’t hesitate for the wrong reasons.’
My chin came up. ‘Because of California, you mean?’
‘Yes.’
I’d come under attack while covering a principal out there and had fired on three men I’d been convinced were aiming to kill us. It turned out that I was mistaken – about part of it at least. I had escaped an attempted murder charge by the skin of my teeth, and had no wish for a repeat performance.
‘There was also the additional factor that I seriously doubted Dina’s horse had ever been in close proximity to a discharging handgun before,’ I added. ‘If I’d fired on our attackers and he’d gone crazy, who knows what kind of damage he might have done to the girl.’
Parker’s head tilted slightly, considering. ‘Now that one you definitely came up with after the fact.’
I shrugged. ‘OK,’ I agreed meekly, ‘but the logic still holds. You didn’t see the way Cerdo was acting up, or how determined Dina was not to let go of him. And he was panicking enough as it was – adding gunfire into the equation would have been a recipe for disaster.’
‘So instead you used the horse as an offensive weapon.’
‘It was the only thing I could do that allowed me to keep some kind of control over the situation. Besides, like I said – they were amateurs.’
‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ Landers broke in, his voice almost diffident, ‘but just ’cause they was not carrying sidearms does not make them amateurs – nor does failing to overwhelm a professional close-protection officer, if you’ll pardon me for saying so. You underestimate yourself, ma’am.’
‘Thanks, Erik, but for God’s sake call me Charlie, not ma’am. I was an ordinary grunt, not a Rupert,’ I said, grinning at him. No way had I been considered officer material back in the army. ‘And my assessment has very little to do with how they were armed.’
Parker caught my eye and nodded his agreement. ‘If they’d been pros they would have taken you out as their primary objective, even though you were not the most obvious target,’ he said softly, ‘because they would have gathered enough intel to know exactly who and what you were.’
‘But they didn’t,’ I said. ‘They were sloppy and slow to react and too fixed on Dina to see danger coming from another direction, so either their intel was bad, or they were working without any. Either way, that makes them amateurs.’
Parker frowned. ‘But the other victims described well-planned and well-executed ambushes or snatches.’
‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘So either we have two different groups at work, or the connection between these kidnappings is not the social circle in which the victims move.’
‘Because anyone who was at the party on the yacht would have known you were Dina’s bodyguard,’ Parker finished. He paused. ‘Doesn’t narrow it down much.’
‘Yeah, but it may put Dina’s mind at rest if we’re looking for complete strangers rather than among her friends,’ I said. ‘Although …’
He waited a beat, eyebrow raised. ‘The Eisenberg kid,’ he supplied. ‘Orlando told you he was hanging around her before she was taken, and now he shows up at the riding club out of the blue, on the day an attempt is made on Dina. Coincidence?’
‘I sort of doubt it,’ I said. ‘And you didn’t see him after it was all over, standing there watching. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looked thoroughly pissed off that the attack failed.’
‘And his close-protection guys didn’t intervene when this thing went down,’ Landers said, a soldier’s disgust tightening his voice.
‘I wouldn’t have expected them to – they had their job to do and I had mine.’ Landers still looked dubious, but didn’t outright contradict me.
‘You tread very carefully around Torquil Eisenberg, Charlie,’ Parker warned. ‘His father has all kinds of influence you do not want to tangle with.’
‘If an opportunity arises to ask him a few questions,’ I said, stubborn, ‘I’ll take it.’
And if it doesn’t, I might just have to make that opportunity happen …
Parker sighed. He moved forwards to rest his hands gently on my upper arms. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Landers catch the gesture and snap his head awa
y so fast he nearly ricked his neck in his efforts to see nothing untoward going on between us.
‘I trust your judgement, Charlie,’ Parker said at last. ‘Whatever decisions you make in the field, I’ll back them if I have to – you know that, don’t you?’
I was reminded sharply of another time, when Parker’s confidence in my judgement had been sadly lacking, to the point where he’d allowed me to undergo hostile interrogation at the hands of the security services. What had changed? And why?
Horribly aware of Landers’ presence, I forced myself to step back, forced a cool note of distance into my voice. ‘What a shame you didn’t always have such faith, Parker.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dina didn’t want to talk about what happened at the riding club in the period that followed. Instead, she wanted to talk about me.
Or rather, my relationship with my boss. Not an easy topic, because I had no idea about my feelings for Parker at that point.
It was two days since the ambush. Dina’s knee had recovered, thanks to three sessions with a remedial masseur who’d come out to the house and applied ultrasound and various other treatments at some ridiculous cost. All this for a minor injury that probably would have sorted itself, given rest and ice, within a couple of days anyway. What it was to be so pampered.
Dina had an ulterior motive for wanting to be fit, however, which was an upcoming charity auction and gala dinner. It seemed to be the focus of just about anybody who was anybody on Long Island.
The biggest surprise, as far as Dina was concerned, was the fact that Torquil Eisenberg had texted to see if she wanted to accompany him. After agonising over the brief wording, she sent a message of assent by the same means, and all the logistics of the exercise were sorted without the pair exchanging a spoken word. Dina seemed to think this was entirely normal. I felt very old.
So, this morning she decided she was feeling sufficiently recovered to hit the boutiques of Fifth Avenue. Caroline Willner graciously lent her personal driver to save the hassle of parking garages, but I relegated him to the passenger seat for the drive into Manhattan – a considerable blow to his ego, if his sniffy silence for the entire journey was anything to go by.