by Ann Raina
“True nature?”
She pointed at Alyssa. “He claims that your work’s so important that he couldn’t hire and train a substitute! By what you showed me, this could be done by a trained ape! So you will stop lying and tell me what’s so important!”
* * * *
Alyssa swallowed so hard that it hurt. What does she know? “I don’t know what you mean,” she said with a small voice. “I do my best here, believe me. Maybe it’s because of the Internet. If you program websites, there’s a lot you can do wrong. The presentation’s the most important thing, you know? For the business. Today a fair Internet presentation is by far more important than five years ago.”
* * * *
Lady Summerston stared at her, looking for clues of Alyssa’s failure. But there were none. The woman seemed guileless, which was, of course, impossible. She knew Alyssa had screwed her handsome Matthew. An unforgivable act.
“I learned computer science and the programming of sites. I can do in an hour what takes others a day.”
“And after hours?”
* * * *
The question rattled Alyssa, but now that she saw she had almost won, she was more secure with her answer. “I have an apartment, Lady Summerston. And I have friends I see. If you think that I stay here longer than the business requires you’re mistaken.”
* * * *
Lady Summerston glanced around on purpose, taking in the equipment of the office and thinking of the blueprints she had seen so long ago. Abruptly and harshly to shatter Alyssa’s equanimity she asked, “What else is down here?”
“The wine cellar.”
“Nothing else?”
“No, nothing else.”
Lady Summerston nodded. “Very well. Keep up the good work.” She left the office. Outside, close to the small desk and Joshua’s broad frame stood a slender man with short black hair that still showed it was curly. He turned and Lady Summerston forgot to breathe. She had never seen him, but his brown eyes amid his dark face spoke of hatred, of violence and greed. She told her heart to beat on and her lungs to take in air to avoid fainting.
“You must be Lady Summerston,” he said and closed the distance, right hand outstretched to greet her.
She ignored the gesture, reluctant to let him know how much he unnerved her. She breathed deeply to calm down. There would be no stranger on this earth who’d see her lose face. “Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. I’m one of Mr. Summerston’s frequent customers. My name’s Nathan Tegira.”
Lady Summerston let him know with a glance that she didn’t believe him.
* * * *
Kamal dropped his hand with a disarming smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I hope your business is well?”
* * * *
“I see no point why this should concern you. Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Oh, yes, milady, yes!” He nodded subserviently, the amiable smile glued to his face as if it actually mattered that she liked him. “The wines are always excellent!”
“Good to know. Have a nice day.” She proceeded toward the stairs slowly and prolonged the time so she could watch him. The hairs on her neck stood on end. No, he won’t attack me, but he had predator eyes and a stance that was intimidating.
“Yes, you, too. It was really good to meet you.” He turned back to Joshua to talk shop.
Lady Summerston cursed all the way up to the main floor. She was angry at herself to be shaken so easily. After all, he was a stranger with a violent expression. A person she wanted out of the house. It had not happened often there were two people at the same time she wanted to get rid of as soon as possible.
* * * *
The two men close to the parking lot were well trained yet not invisible. The moment Michael approached his car, they got in motion, closer to their vehicle, and he knew they would follow him wherever he went. Cursing silently, he pretended to fetch his sunglasses from his car and strolled off across the large meadows and into a small wood. He turned occasionally, but did not see anyone follow him. They had obviously been told to stay in the background as long as he roamed the premises. Cell phone calls were traceable, but he still needed to transport information. “Hey, buddy, it’s me, Matt.”
Lester hesitated just a second. “Hey, good to hear your voice. What’s up?”
“Got hooked up all the way.” Michael sounded cheerful. “Couldn’t be any better. You?”
“Pinched!” He laughed heartily, then sobered again. “Remember the scribbling? Was a poem! My gal’s gonna roast me that I didn’t know immediately! Man, I sat about it for hours until I found out. Tells you about me and poetry.”
“I knew that before.”
“Thanks, buddy. And I found the book to that poem, bought it and read it now. Well, I emptied it of its letters, I’d say. Good one. Very good indeed.”
“Congratulations!” Michael was relieved. So the notes from the van made some sense and Lester’s cryptic message was that the CIA either knew or had already routed the hoodlums’ hideaway.
“Thanks. So you’re deep in love, ey? Lots of talk?”
“Yes. Today, I couldn’t stop her.”
“Women!”
Michael chuckled and cleared his throat. For how often had he had this conversation with Lester? It was the oldest running joke between them. Michael and his affairs d’amour. “She’s really nice. Very honest soul.” Michael hoped for Lester to understand the hint that Alyssa had started talking business.
“Oh! Great news! In that case I hope you gonna make a book out of it.”
“We might.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, got a lot of work at the moment. Won’t make our appointment.”
“I don’t like it, but all right. See ya.”
“Yes, you, too.” He wiped the numbers clean, shut the cell phone and turned back. The message of his inability to leave the premises would be transported to Bernstein and Bellard. For now, Michael just had to stay undercover and maintain position.
When he emerged from the wood, Peter waited for him, hands crossed in front of his belly, a non-amused look on his face.
“Mr. Summerston’s waiting for you, Mr. Hathaway. If you’d, please, follow me?”
Michael swallowed his nervousness. And so it begins.
* * * *
“Michael’s in trouble somehow,” Lester said on the telephone conference with Director Bellard and Linda Bernstein. “He didn’t say explicitly why, but he suspected his call to be traced.”
“What did he tell you about his progress?”
Linda sounded upset in a bad way and Lester knew enough about the strenuous relationship she had with Michael to be very cautious of what he said. “Not much. I think, he got Alyssa to confess what she really does.”
“Did he get access to their programs? Does he know what’s the scenario? What are we looking at here? Terrorist attacks? Sleepers? What?”
This wasn’t his best, Lester knew. He sweated profusely and when he realized he had just put his sweaty hands on the clean tabletop, blushed deeply. His opposite, a female agent, who took down notes on a small pad, grinned and shook her head. As if to prompt his nervousness, a drop of sweat fell on the table. “He didn’t tell me. The call was brief. He wanted to know if we got something out of the scribbled notes.”
“And you told him?” This was Bellard, alarmed and distrusting.
Lester cringed, bit his lips and went on, words measured. He knew if he blew it, Bellard would feed his ass to the HQ carnivores. “I told him that I read a poem and found the proper book to it. I hope, he got the hint.”
Bellard snorted, annoyed. “We routed the whole place! From what we found, we know they’re Kamal’s enemies! Even though we made it look like a police raid, he might get the information on another way. Greenburg, he needs to know that to form an exit strategy if need be! If this Kamal’s as dangerous as the killing of Habib Natassar indicates, he will not shy from killing Te
ssler if he finds out about the connection and considers him a threat!”
Lester wiped his sweaty brow. As if I didn’t know! He’s my friend, you bastard! “I expect him to understand the consequences, sir. With his next contact call—”
“I have an appointment with him tomorrow,” Linda cut in, letting Lester know how much she despised his way of work. “I’ll talk him through his further moves.”
“Any further questions?”
“No, sir.” Lester hung his head. “If he calls again, I’ll let you know.”
* * * *
George Summerston’s handshake was firm, his smile inviting, transporting honesty and trustworthiness. Under different circumstances, Michael would have been honored to be invited into his office on the first floor, which was as exclusively furnished as he had expected. However, he read the man’s nervousness. He realized that Peter remained at the door and watched him closely, ready to react if Michael was revealed as a maniac. He saw the closed door to the adjacent room, probably another office. Is Kamal in there to overhear what is spoken?
“Please, have a seat!” George walked back behind his oak desk. “If you allow me to say, you look quite awful. Do your injuries hurt much?”
Michael leaned back and tried to look at ease. He folded his hands in his lap and rested both elbows on the arms of the leather chair. “No, sir, not that much. I’ll come around.”
“I’m sure you will.” George Summerston steepled his fingers as he rested his elbows on the desk’s blotting-pad. His expression turned serious. “Let me be straight with you, Matthew, the incident in the alley deeply concerns me.”
“I understand.”
“You probably know that Alyssa Moreno works for me.” He didn’t wait for Michael to nod or comment on the kind of relationship. “She’s not only an employee, but also a friend. I want her safe. So, please, tell me exactly, what happened in the alley and what you did to help her.”
Michael summarized the events the way Alyssa had done with the exception that he told George how he shattered the man’s skull with the handle.
George flinched at the harsh description. “What did you find on them?”
“Find?” Michael repeated, puzzled.
“Didn’t you search the men?”
“No, sir, Alyssa and I took off the moment they were down. I was too frightened to even think of searching them.”
“Why did you not call the police?”
Michael lifted his hand in an apologizing gesture. “That moment, sir…I just didn’t think of it. I just wanted to get away from the awful place. There might’ve been more. We weren’t sure.”
“Alyssa’s car parked there. Why didn’t you take it?”
“We weren’t sure it was safe and it had a flat tire.”
* * * *
“I see.” George took a deep breath and put his reassuring expression back on. It got harder from day to day. A headache grew behind his forehead as if it wanted to burst out through his frown lines. “Do you have any idea why you both were attacked?”
“No, sir, but it was clear they wanted something from her. They almost let me get away.”
“Almost?”
“One of them tried to shoot me.”
“Indeed.” George frowned deeply, his green eyes set on Michael. “So you ran, but came back, clubbed the men and ran away with Alyssa.”
“That’s it, sir.”
“It was brought to my attention that you had fights before.”
“One, sir, and whoever told you exaggerated.”
“You seem to be quite brave. Unusual for a man you claim to be. What was your profession before?”
“I worked as a handyman.” He almost let out, You know that. You checked my background.
“And before that?”
“I attended college.”
George eyed him as the silence stretched and became uncomfortable. “Are you certain you told me everything you know about that night?”
Michael smiled lopsidedly. “Do you refer to the fight or that I did not return the same night?”
George leaned back, returning the smile thinly. “People try to tell me a lot of things and claim them to be true. Every businessman I deal with claims his wines to be the best and you only know if that’s correct if you test them yourself. I know, there is a flaw in your background somewhere. I cannot put my finger on it, but I know it’s there. You lied to me at some point of your story.”
“But no, sir, why should I?”
“That’s something I need to find out.” He stood. “In the meantime, I expect you to do your work as Lady Summerston tells you. And—for the better fate of both of you—stay away from Alyssa.”
Michael rose and weighed his head. “I will try.”
George Summerston’s smile widened. “That, at least, is an honest answer.”
Chapter 18
Michael tried to make up his mind if he should get to Alyssa at once and try and take her away from the premises, no matter how much information she could give the CIA and if there was anything left when he returned with the cavalry. The interview in George’s upstairs office with Kamal probably listening unnerved him. It got harder by the minute to pretend he felt great when he thought about shadows attacking him.
He glanced out of the window. The men guarding the building were still there, intercoms ready. Michael cursed the circumstances. Maybe he should have taken Alyssa to the CIA HQ in Washington, DC, right after the attack. But what did he have to offer? Yes, there were weapons in the basement and a shooting range. It was illegal, but not the way to catch the big fish. He needed access to the second office. He needed Alyssa to help him.
“You look troubled, my young friend.”
Michael spun around, ready to fight, and found David Callahan standing so close to him he could have touched.
David lifted his hands and cocked his head, a small and quickly vanishing smile on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay.” Michael ran a hand through his hair. If this had been an attack, he’d be beaten hands down. What a mess! When he took a deep breath, he realized that David eyed him with undisclosed curiosity. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“You had an argument with George, I suppose?”
“Why?”
“You came out of his office and you look very disturbed.”
Michael didn’t answer, but glanced out of the window once more. What shall I do? He could almost smell the danger in the air, but when he left, Alyssa would be on her own. If I make it through the gate.
“I had to leave my office—which is the next one—to make room for a very unpleasant man.”
Michael turned back to him. “And who would that be?”
“Oh, he never formally introduced himself, but by what I heard he is a business associate.” He shrugged as his expression turned sly. “Whatever that means these days.”
Michael wet his lips. “You mean that man overheard the conversation?”
“I’m sure he did. And if I were you, I would do as George says—whatever he said. That’s just my two cents, of course. But by what I heard—and it is but rumors—this associate has a certain way with people. So better be careful.”
He was about to go downstairs when Michael took his arm. “Wait a moment. What else do you know?”
“I only know what the staff gossips.” David lifted his brows, indicating with a smile that there were tons of stories behind that innocent statement.
“And what would that be?” Michael stood on the same step and though he had released David’s arm he would not let him go. “Is it something concerning what happens in the basement?”
“You mean the vinery?” David laughed heartily. “Good Lord, that business is their last concern! There’s by far more going on in here.”
“Tell me about it.”
David pursed his lips and pretended to ponder over the request. “If I remember correctly, you’re but a handyman who turned out to be
a great callboy. Why should I tell you anything?”
“Why did you warn me of that stranger in the first place?”
He got him there. David dropped his gaze. “Listen, my young friend, you overstepped some borders and your position is at least questionable. Lady Summerston knows, George knows. And now this other man knows it, too. There’s a hush of nervousness in this house you can’t imagine.” He made a dismissive gesture. “They all ignore me, you know, and think that I’m so absorbed in making this place prettier that they don’t think I have ears and eyes.” He lifted his head again and the hardness of his gaze astounded Michael. “If you want to know something from me though, there’s a condition. No, make that two.”
“I’m listening.”
“First, I guess, I deserve to know who you are. By your behavior and sneaking around where you shouldn’t be—and don’t dare to deny it—I know you have more in mind than just helping out damsels who need to get laid. And second, I want this stranger out of the house. He spends too much time with my George and he upsets him so bitterly that we hardly talk to each other anymore.”
“I understand.”
David Callahan looked around. “There is the small summerhouse at the southern corner of the paddocks. I’ll meet you there in the afternoon. And you better bring a good story of what you’re doing here.”
Michael never made it to the summerhouse.
Ms. Monroe crossed his way and reminded him in brisk words that he had an appointment this afternoon. Without explaining her bad mood, she ordered him to shower and dress for dinner since it would be an out-of-the-house arrangement. Michael knew it had to be Linda Bernstein to finally make it through to him and was glad. They could exchange information and maybe form a strategy to get Alyssa away from Kamal when the time was right.