by Nancy Madore
“That’s it?” gasped Beth. “But that will be like looking for a needle in a haystack!”
“Then we better get started,” replied Asmund.
Beth looked from Asmund to Isabella. “But…you and Wayne were attempting to destroy T.D.M.R.,” she argued. “Surely you must have some idea who’s behind all this?”
“We only knew one name,” said Asmund, glancing at Isabella. “And he’s dead.”
“Wait!” cried Beth. She felt herself pale as dawning slowly came. “You don’t mean…the dead man isn’t, by chance, Max Wessler, the head of the Department of Defense, is it?”
Asmund hesitated before answering. “Yes.”
This was big—much bigger than Beth bargained for, and that was saying something when you considered that she was holding a woman hostage in her cellar. Wayne had gotten himself killed over this. What chance did she have?
Beth pushed these thoughts aside. She wanted answers about Wayne and she’d be damned if she would give up before she got them.
“Where on earth will you start?” she asked.
“We’ll start with the Department of Defense,” said Asmund, “and work our way through every politian and businessman whose shown even the slightest interest in defense contracts.”
*
Six hours later they were still at it. There were long intervals of searching and scanning, punctuated by the inevitable picture. Often, further searching had to be done, as the pictures didn’t always show the left side of the face. For that matter, the man they were looking for could’ve been wearing makeup—for most of the pictures were taken by a professional. In fact, there were very few candid shots of the men that Asmund singled out. They were the richest and most powerful men in the world and, as such, they undoubtedly took measures to protect their privacy.
There was even the possibility that the condition that caused the purple mark to appear on the face had come after the photograph was taken.
Locating the man seemed like a long shot to Beth. But though they had yet to find anyone fitting the convenience store clerk’s description, they had printed out several photos for Beth to go back and show him.
Beth had never seen anyone as determined as Asmund. He was relentless in his search. She had the sense that he would not give up until he found the man—even if it took him years.
But as for Beth, she was exhausted. She yearned for a drink.
“I could do with some refreshment,” remarked Isabella suddenly. She turned to Beth. “You wouldn’t happen to have any wine on hand—or…perhaps, something stronger?”
Beth looked at her in surprise. “Well…I—”
“Just one drink,” begged Isabella. “To take the edge off.”
Beth hesitated only a moment. “Okay,” she said. “I guess I could use a drink myself.”
Chapter 46
Washington, DC
Jeremy Nasterson presented much better in person than he did in his pictures but, even then, no one would ever call him a handsome man. He had a nice enough face Nadia supposed, but he had sharp, watchful eyes that never actually participated in whatever expression the rest of his face was attempting to convey—which was most often a cordial smile. But he was polished and soft-spoken, which made the watchfulness seem harmless somehow. It was hard to believe that this man had plotted with nine other men to kill millions of innocent people. The small, purple blemish on the left side of his face was, perhaps, the only indication that there might be something ominous brewing just beneath the surface. To a doctor, it might have signified a blood clot or other health issue, but to Nadia, it seemed a kind of symbol, like the scarlet letter of Nathanial Hawthorne’s adulterous heroine, Hester Prynne. Whenever her eyes passed over it, she felt as if she were seeing proof of something sinister within, the tell-tale evidence of something so terrible it could hardly be contained beneath the skin.
Nadia had always enjoyed working with Jeremy Nasterson in the past. She’d found him direct, forthcoming, and extremely generous. If, at times, he had been rather ostentatious about that generosity, well; what of it? Many of her clients used her charitable events to boost their images. That didn’t make their money any less valuable. If Nadia were to limit herself to donors who were willing to give anonymously (from the heart, as it were), she might as well start ringing a bell outside supermarkets.
As she sat facing Jeremy Nasterson in his office, Nadia found herself preoccupied with Will. The realizations of the previous night had jarred her confidence. Up to that point, she’d been so sure of her decision, so confident that what she was doing was right. Even now, looking into the eyes of the man whose death she was plotting, she still felt it was the right thing to do.
But where Will was concerned, Nadia’s resolution faltered. What right had she to remain with him under the circumstances? Was she just using him? She felt like the worst kind of traitor; like Judas, betraying the most innocent of his acquaintances with a kiss.
And yet, was Will really all that innocent? He knew as much as she did about what happened to California, and he was willing to walk away without seeking justice for the victims.
“You seem distracted, Ms. Adeire,” Nasterson observed. “I hope I didn’t step on your toes with my questions.”
“Not at all, Jeremy,” she replied smoothly. “Actually, your questions brought to mind a few details I have yet to attend to.” She had spent the better part of an hour going over the most enticing aspects of her masquerade ball—and name dropping until she nearly made herself sick.
His eyes seemed to be assessing her. “I would be delighted to help in any way possible,” he said with his customary smile.
“I knew you would be,” she replied as sincerely as she was able. “I’ll never forget your help with that earthquake in India.” She couldn’t help wondering, suddenly, if he’d had a hand in that disaster as well. “Naturally, the greatest contribution you could make to the event would be to put in an appearance,” she continued. “Your presence would add a great deal of weight to the occasion.”
“You flatter me,” he laughed, although Nadia could tell that he agreed with her completely. But, still, he hesitated.
Everyone in the media was well aware of Jeremy Nasterson’s aversion to public events, and now, after what she had learned from Poseidon, Nadia knew why. Nasterson could not afford to risk an encounter with a djinn. Not that there was much of a chance of that before Poseidon was captured. Tucked neatly under the clearance blanket of the Department of Defense, Wessler’s ten were invisible to nearly everyone in the world. But they must have known that other djinn were out there. And that had to terrify them. Even Nadia worried about it sometimes. Though the djinn were limited in their spirit form, she was learning that they had varying degrees of ability.
As far as the media was concerned, there was nothing all that unusual about Nasterson’s private behavior. Most people with his wealth had to seclude themselves from the public to some degree. But now, after what happened to Wessler, Nadia was certain that Nasterson’s reclusiveness would be even more pronounced. It would take something significant to lure him out of his cloistered existence, where he had no doubt installed all kinds of precautions. Once lured out, it would take even more to get him alone—even for a moment.
And yet, as Poseidon pointed out, Nasterson was a glutton for power. Nadia was certain that this would also prove to be his weakness. She knew that Nasterson craved the notoriety that went along with being among the rich and elite, and he felt entitled to take part in the very best things this world had to offer. That’s why, in describing the event, Nadia had been careful to point how exclusive it really was, and how carefully every detail had been planned out.
“It’s not flattery,” insisted Nadia. “It’s the truth. And I’m a shrewd enough business-woman to know that your presence is worth twenty times the cost of admission.” There was a determined gleam in her eyes as she continued—“Which is why I’m prepared to present your tickets as a gift.”
&nb
sp; She could see by his face that he was genuinely pleased by this gesture on her part. She had dealt with his type enough to know that the way to their hearts was through their egos. They were extremely vulnerable to adulation. And for reasons that nobody could quite understand, they loved getting things for free.
“I couldn’t let you do that,” he said—taking her off guard.
Nadia summoned forth all the positive feelings she could muster and presented him with her most persuasive look. Her eyes were locked with his. “What can I say to induce you to do this enormous favor for me, Jeremy?” she asked. She knew better than to bring up the victims in California—she might as well discuss the plight of the polar bears for all the effect that would have. She had to appeal to his greed somehow. She scrambled for a way to turn this meeting around.
“There is nothing more you need to say,” he replied with his confusing smile. “I’m going to purchase four tickets.” He pulled out his checkbook and wrote the check while Nadia struggled to recover from her surprise. “And I’ve even thrown in a little extra,” he said as he handed her the check.
This comment brought her back on level footing. The ‘little extra’ was a hundred thousand dollars and it was all Nadia could do to hide her disgust. You’re the one caused all this, you son of a bitch, she thought. Is this what all those lives are worth to you? “On behalf of the survivors of California, I thank you,” she said, giving him what she hoped was her most appreciative smile. “Naturally, I’ll be sending you the guest list so you can choose who you’ll share a table with,” she said, adding demurely—“I think you’ll be impressed with your choices.” Considering how easily he had given in, she now wanted to make sure that he actually showed up for the event.
His eyes lit up at the prospect of seeing the guest list. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
She smiled. “I want everything to be perfect, right down to the last detail. We haven’t left so much as an appetizer to chance.”
“I’ve been to events at the Plaza before,” he said. “They never disappoint!”
“True, but we’ll be bringing additional talent to the kitchen as well as the stage,” she told him.
“You don’t say!” he exclaimed, clearly intrigued. It was a well-known fact that Jeremy Nasterson was a connoisseur of fine food and wine.
Nadia gave him a conspiratorial look. “It’s meant to be a surprise, but I will tell you that we have chefs coming in from all four corners of the world.”
His eyes gleamed hungrily.
“And that’s just the beginning,” said Nadia. “This event will be setting a new standard for events in the future. There has never been another one like it.” She addressed him with a self-confident air. “And now that I have you in attendance…I can accurately make the claim that everyone who is anyone will be there!”
His eyes were glowing with self-importance. “Your enthusiasm is catching,” he said. “I find I want to hear more about this masquerade of yours. Why don’t you join me for lunch?”
“Oh,” hesitated Nadia, feigning regret. “I’m afraid I brought a friend with me on this trip. He’s waiting for me as we speak.”
“Bring him along!” insisted Jeremy. “I keep a table reserved at this wonderful little restaurant on Sixteenth Street.”
Nadia was well aware of the ‘wonderful little restaurant’ of which he spoke. It was none other than the exclusive Basile’s, where the renowned chef, Basile Guillaume, created culinary delights that attracted food and wine enthusiasts from around the world.
Seeing no way to extricate herself from the invitation, Nadia acquiesced.
“I’m sure it will be the highlight of our afternoon,” she replied, groaning inwardly.
*
It was a testament of how distracted Nadia was by Will’s presence that she hadn’t foreseen what she would be walking into. The instant they stepped out of Nasterson’s limousine they were swarmed by screaming reporters and their cameramen. Nadia could’ve laughed at herself for feeling ambushed. The ‘few phone calls’ Nasterson had to attend to before taking her to lunch were obviously to the media. It wasn’t the first time one of her supporters had rung their own bell. But even so, she felt it was a brazen thing to do, given the circumstances. She tried to curtail the resentment that rose up in her as Nasterson addressed the reporters.
“It should come as no surprise that I will be working very closely on this project with BEACON,” Nasterson announced as if he, too, were startled by all the attention. “We’ve worked together many times, but this is, by far, the most important commission we will ever undertake.” He turned to Nadia. “I can’t think of anyone more qualified to give it the attention it deserves.”
Nadia fumed. To hear him talk, Nasterson might have been the one who came up with the idea in the first place. She forced a smile. “It could not be done without the generosity of men like Jeremy Nasterson,” she said.
It continued on this way for a few minutes, until Nasterson got bored and gently brushed them away. Nadia turned to give Will an apologetic look—and froze. He was studying her so…intently. He had the strangest look on his face. She felt her face growing warm.
The reporters were moving away, so the three of them entered the restaurant. Nadia tried to calm her raging sensations, but it was proving difficult. She felt trapped between the two men, both of whom produced such conflicting emotions in her. One she hated enough to kill (literally), and the other she—Nadia stopped short when she realized that the word that had popped into her head was ‘loved.’ She had been thinking, ‘and the other she loved.’ This realization left her feeling sick. She had intended to keep her feelings for Will at bay until all of this was behind them. If her mission was successful, well, perhaps Will wouldn’t have to ever find out. Sometimes she even indulged in the happy dream that one day they would all be on the same side again. But suddenly that seemed like a foolish delusion. She was betraying Will in the worst imaginable way. At least that’s the way he would see it.
Nadia had the sudden desire to throw herself at his feet and confess everything. But then she thought of the strange look in his eye when she caught him watching her outside and she knew that she would go on lying to him.
The hostess seated them at a private table in the back. It was surrounded by tall, beautiful plants. Nadia sat down and gave both of her companions her most brilliant smile.
Look on the bright side, she told herself. At least now there’s no doubt that Nasterson will come.
She had lured the rat to the trap.
Chapter 47
Delta Junction, Alaska
Beth came to slowly and, as she did, fuzzy details of the previous night came through in bits and pieces.
“Tell me about you and Wayne,” she’d demanded at some point, and Asmund had proceeded to describe adventures so far away and long ago that she wouldn’t have been able to believe them if told to her by anyone else. It wasn’t just the incredible picture that he himself presented. The telling of it was what convinced her. It was so vivid; and the details were made all the more real by Asmund’s melancholy air as he remembered times past. For Beth, it was like sitting down with Homer or Chaucer, or any of the many narrators of the Arabian Nights. There were angels and giants, and wars upon wars—even wars between the worlds. And she had believed every word—she believed it still! Asmund’s depiction of the past was too vivid, his emotions too potent, for what he described to be anything but the truth about his and Wayne’s past.
Of course, she had let down her guard by drinking too much.
Beth sat up so suddenly that the room began to spin. She had forgotten to put Asmund back in the ring!
But she grew strangely calm as her feet touched the floor. In fact, she didn’t even bother to pick up her gun before leaving her bedroom and trudging down the stairs.
The house felt friendly. She’d forgotten how pleasant it was when the light came pouring in through the windows on sunny mornings. She had stopped noticing things
like that when Wayne died, but all of a sudden her awareness returned with its full force.
She could feel a comforting presence in her house, and she knew that Asmund and Isabella were still there. This wasn’t really all that surprising. Isabella was, after all, chained to Wayne’s office. Not to mention that Beth was still wearing the two rings that bound Asmund to her. And yet, she had the distinct impression that they could have escaped last night if they had wanted to. In fact, she was pretty sure they could’ve escaped the whole time.
But they hadn’t, and she thought she knew why. Part of it, no doubt, was that her interest in finding out what happened to Wayne coincided with theirs. But even more importantly, she suddenly realized that her connection to Wayne had inadvertently linked her to them—particularly Asmund. Perhaps the most telling of all was Asmund’s demeanor when he spoke of Wayne. It was clear that the two men were closer than any blood brothers. Her love for Wayne—and his for her—had made Asmund her ally.
The comforting presence, she realized, was having Wayne’s friend here with her, in the house. It was the next best thing to having Wayne. Still, it could not go on like this.
Beth popped her head in the door of Wayne’s secret room and was not at all surprised to find Asmund and Isabella, bending over the computer, looking at pictures. She marveled over how beautiful Isabella still managed to keep herself, considering she had no makeup and only Wayne’s little half bath to clean up in.
Isabella looked up and gave Beth a little smile. “How do you feel?”
Beth gave her a wry smile for a reply. “Any luck?” she asked.
“It’s only a matter of time before we find him,” replied Asmund. “But Beth, we are very limited in how much we can do for Wayne while we all remain trapped in this cellar.”
Perhaps the most surprising thing in all of this was how comfortable Beth had become with Asmund’s appearance. It didn’t bother her at all anymore. In fact, she thought it suited him rather well. She stood in the doorway a bit awkwardly. “I don’t know what else to do,” she admitted.