Breaking the Rules (Harte Family Saga Book 7)

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “I know, I know, he worries and fusses, and he’s always been like that. . . . There’s just one thing, Simon. I am going to back M on this because she’s really been longing to get away with Larry on a—”

  “Honeymoon!” he cut in peremptorily and gave her a pointed look. “So why does she want company on their honeymoon?”

  “I suppose because she’s smart enough to know that Jack won’t let them go off alone.”

  “Right on the nose, Lin, right on the nose.”

  A moment later a cab drew to a stop, and M jumped out, followed by Larry. M looked smart in a navy trouser suit and a starched white shirt, with her hair in a ponytail and an old quilted Chanel bag thrown over her shoulder.

  “Hey, didn’t that Chanel used to be mine!” Linnet exclaimed in mock annoyance as she ran over to her younger sister and hugged her. “I shouldn’t have given you that, it looks brand-new.”

  “You said you hated it, and hey, don’t you look scrumptious! And so happy.” M looked past her sister at Simon, saw the adoring look on his face, pulled Linnet closer to her, and said, “Oh, how delicious! Are you and Simon having—”

  “Sssh. The answer is yes, and I don’t want any cheeky comments from you. Because this is serious with a capital S.”

  “Oh, Linny, darling! How fab. Are you, I mean have you . . . ?”

  “I don’t want to discuss this on the street with him standing only a few yards away. But yes, yes, yes,” Linnet hissed in M’s ear, then gave her a beatific smile.

  Lorne Fairley was the last to arrive at the meeting in James Cardigan’s office. Once they had all greeted Paula’s elder son, Jack said, “James has made some progress. His Moscow operative has pinpointed Ainsley’s whereabouts.”

  He looked across at James, who came to join him in the central seating area of the room. Turning on the television set which displayed a map of the world, James zeroed in on St. Petersburg. “We believe he’s in a hundred-mile radius of the city, and I should have more information within twenty-four hours. But we know that Russia is his new base and that he probably has a Russian partner.”

  There was some discussion about Ainsley; M asked a number of pointed questions, as did Linnet. Jack and James answered in careful, precise language and promised to keep them all updated. Jack then focused on M. “I understand from Linnet that you plan to charter a yacht in Italy. When are you thinking of doing this?”

  “In about ten days, Jack, for two weeks. I have found an appropriate ship. Lorne knows the Greek Islands and Istanbul very well, and I thought that would be a great area and we should be very safe there. I know that’s what’s worrying you . . . our safety. But Linnet thought that Simon could accompany us, and I would like to invite you too, Jack.” She smiled at him.

  “It’s very kind of you, M, and perhaps I will pop down for a few days. Have you discussed this with your parents?”

  “Yes, and they seem to think it’ll be all right, but they informed me that you must have the last word.”

  “The last word is that I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

  Once he and Jack were alone again, James brought up the cruise M wanted to take. “I think it would be safe, Jack. You could provide plenty of security onboard, and Simon’s presence would be reassuring, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, it would. Anyway, he wouldn’t let Linnet go without him. They’ve become involved, romantically involved, I mean.” He grinned. “I’m pleased to inform you.”

  James nodded and grinned back. “He seems like a nice bloke, aside from being a helluva great cop.”

  “He is. I spoke to M’s mother about this cruise, and she made a very good point, which was that Ainsley wouldn’t attempt to attack a moving target, especially one that docks in a foreign country every night. That would have to be a proviso, that the yacht was anchored in a harbor and not out at sea, where it might be vulnerable.”

  Jack now stood, paced for a few seconds, and then said, “Today’s Monday the seventh of May. In a week’s time Richie Zhèng should have some very important information for me. That brings us to the fourteenth. I don’t think we can knock Ainsley out of the box by then, but I do want him neutralized before the end of the month. He’s got to be gone and forgotten in short order.”

  “How in God’s name are we going to do that?” James wondered aloud.

  “I shall tell you how,” Jack answered. “And by the way, I would just like to say I’m glad M suggested you and you agreed to work with us, James. It’s great to have you onboard.”

  Forty-three

  M, Larry, and her brother Lorne cut quite a swath when they entered Harry’s Bar on South Audley Street. As they were led to a table for three at the end of the room, their presence could hardly be ignored.

  Larry and Lorne were both six-footers, and M, wearing high heels, was the same height. This aside, all three were wonderfully good-looking and extremely famous.

  Once they were seated, Lorne said, “I don’t know about you chaps, but I’m going to have one of their fantastic Bellinis.” Glancing at his sister, he said, “I know you don’t drink at lunch, but go on, have one, darling. I hate to drink alone.”

  “I’ll certainly join you,” Larry said. “But promise to stop me after I’ve had two. I’m afraid that once I start, I drink ’em like pop.”

  M began to laugh and nodded. She said to Lorne, “Count me in. Why not?” As Lorne motioned for a waiter to come over, M’s eyes swept around the room, and she said to Larry, “Not a soul I know. How about you?”

  “None of my friends here,” he replied and half shrugged. “But it’s Monday, sweetheart, and a lot of people are only just getting back from the country.” He paused, then asked, “Do you think Jack’s going to agree about the yacht?”

  “I hope so,” she said. “Linnet thinks he will, and I hope James and Geo will come, too. Jack’s worried about our security, you know. He needs reassurance that we’ll be safe.”

  Larry directed his attention to Lorne. “I wish we could think up a way to stop this bloody guy Ainsley. He’s a menace, and he obviously has tons of money to finance his murderous schemes.”

  Lorne agreed. “He does, and he’s as mad as a hatter . . . psychotic, in my opinion. Jack thinks the same thing. But look here, if Simon and James are along for the trip, then Jack should feel more at ease. As for you two, you’re surrounded by security already.” He chuckled, glancing from one to the other. “The two of you have become a couple of rock stars. And almost overnight. And why not? You’re both gorgeous.”

  Larry and Lorne, stars in their own right, had been good friends for years and felt even closer now that they were brothers-in-law. And it was to Lorne that Larry turned when he needed to know anything about the family. Especially Jonathan Ainsley. This morning was no exception. “Why hasn’t anybody been able to stop him before now?” Larry asked, staring at Lorne, a brow lifting.

  “I guess Jack and his guys have tried for years. Then there was this horrendous car crash five years ago, and Ainsley was killed, and there was a funeral. But as you know, all that seems to have been a load of drivel, the funeral, not the crash, I mean. I’m all for making the trip to Turkey, so you can count on me, M. If Jack remains difficult, tell him you’ll cut out the Greek Islands; that should help to soothe his nerves.”

  “Why?” M asked her brother, frowning. “I don’t understand.”

  Lorne held her steady gaze, explaining, “I believe Jack will go along with you providing you promise to remain docked in the harbor in Istanbul, and just go off on day trips around the Turkish coast. There’s a lot of port security, and don’t forget that ships are much more vulnerable floating around a group of islands. He’ll be thinking about all that.”

  The drinks had arrived; Lorne picked up his glass and toasted them. “Here’s to you two lovebirds, and your honeymoon.”

  “And to you, Lorne,” Larry murmured.

  M said, “I found this great yacht, Lorne. It’s called Skylark, and it has six cabins for twelve
guests, twelve in crew; it’s about one hundred and seventy-five feet, and was built in Bremerhaven. It’s very luxurious and has everything we could possibly want to have a wonderful time. Linnet told me that Simon would enjoy it but that he would only want to stay a week. I hope you can be with us for two weeks, Lorne. And do you want to bring your current lady friend?”

  He laughed hollowly. “I would if I could, but there is no current lady friend. I don’t seem to be able to hang on to any of them these days.”

  He had tried to sound miserable, but M caught the laughter in his eyes, and she knew he was playacting, which he did for a living as well as for pleasure, or to throw his family off the scent.

  Larry said, “How serious is the relationship between Simon and Linnet, M?”

  “Yes, do tell us,” Lorne interjected. “I’d love to know, and I hope you’re going to say it’s serious.”

  “I think it is, from what she said this morning. And I hope so, too, because it would be wonderful for her to have a companion. She’s been so lonely since Julian died.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Lorne picked up the menu, looked at it, and then eyed his sister. “My Italian’s lousy. What can you make out of this?” he asked, putting the menu down.

  “Larry, you’re the clever one with languages. Tell us what’s for lunch,” M exclaimed.

  He perused it quickly and rattled off, “A wonderful fish cooked in a salt casing, veal scallopini, some kind of shrimp dish, another fish, and lots of different pastas. But let’s ask the maître d’ for recommendations, don’t you think?”

  After the headwaiter had told them about what was on the menu and they had ordered fish, and white asparagus to start, Lorne said, “I have a number of friends in Istanbul, as you know, M, since I’ve been going there for years, and I have one friend in particular who’s going to be really helpful if you want to see a few of the special sights.”

  “Who is that?” M asked, sounding curious.

  “Her name is Iffet, and she’s actually a professor of archaeology, but she also owns a travel agency. Iffet has great expertise and knowledge. You’ll like her, M, she’s a lovely woman, very sweet. And a terrific guide. Or she can just hang with us if you want to stay put.”

  “She sounds great, and I like to have contacts in foreign countries,” Larry said, then went on, “Before I forget, my mother wants us to go to dinner, Lorne, and for you to come along with us.”

  “How nice of her, and I’d love to. Will Portia be there?”

  Larry looked at Lorne alertly. “Odd you should ask that. My mother said I should tell you Portia is going to come. If you are.”

  “Ha! Ha!” M cried, staring hard at her brother. “Do I smell a romance blooming?”

  “No, you don’t,” Lorne said in a firm voice. “But we’ve known each other for years and like each other a lot.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting anything improper,” M protested.

  “Not ’alf,” Lorne muttered.

  Jack Figg was halfway up Mount Street when he felt the mobile phone in his breast pocket vibrating against his chest. He pulled it out and flipped it open. “Figg here.”

  “Hello, it’s your Wharton friend.”

  “Hi!” Jack exclaimed. “Good to hear from you. News?”

  “Affirmative. Riddles are the order of the day. Okay?”

  “Mighty fine, Wharton.”

  “You know the company I am one day to inherit?”

  “You mean the nature of it?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then, yes, I do.”

  “That is what our friend has. His own private plaything. For himself. And for others, of course.”

  “Do you have its name?”

  “Oh, yes, and it’s all aboveboard. Nothing phony. And everything is stashed there.”

  “Really. That’s very interesting.”

  “There’s a partner. A new partner. Well, he’s been around a couple of years.”

  “Who is he? Or she? And from whence does he or she hail?”

  “I’ll give you details later. A couple of days. Suffice it to say that caviar is a favorite.”

  “I got it.”

  “I’m making headway with the . . . keys. You know what I mean?”

  “I do, yes.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” Jack closed his phone down.

  On a small side street in Hong Kong, Richie Zhèng did the same. Then he placed the cell phone on the ground and stamped on it, threw the debris in a garbage bin. New phone, now smashed. No trace.

  Jack was sitting at his desk in the study of his flat in Kensington when the landline began to shrill. Picking it up, he said, “Hello? Jack Figg here.”

  “It’s Simon. Do you have five minutes to spare, Jack?”

  “Hello, Simon, and course I do. What’s up?”

  “Can I come around? I’m literally five seconds away. I need to talk to you.”

  Jack laughed. “Sure, come on up to the flat. We can have a drink together. I’m just messing around on my computer.”

  “That’s great. Thanks. See you in a few seconds.”

  Jack glanced at his computer and was about to turn it off when a name suddenly appeared on the screen. It was GRISHA LEBEDEV. It was a name he had never seen before, and he was momentarily baffled; then a smile spread across his face when he saw the word CAVIAR come up next to it. He looked at the screen, seeking to identify the sender, and saw another name he’d never heard of. He chuckled quietly to himself. Richie Zhèng, the computer whiz, had obviously sent it through one of his compadres, as Richie called his computer buddies. Jack glanced at the date. It said the ninth of May, just two days since Richie’s phone call. Richie had said he’d be back to him in a couple of days and he was.

  Suddenly more words came streaming onto the screen. First Jack read BELVEDERE-MACAU PRIVATE BANK. And then there was a message. It said: “I’m twenty-one today. I’ve got the keys of all the doors. Except one. I’m twenty-one and rich.”

  Jack threw back his head and laughed. Richie was telling him that he had twenty-one codes or passwords or keys, which had to do with all of Ainsley’s computers at Belvedere Holdings in Hong Kong, and that he was missing only one. And the word rich was a play on his own name.

  Peering at the top of the document, he saw that there was a different name for this sender. Another one of Richie’s compadres, he had no doubt. Despite the seriousness of it all, there was a twinkle in Jack’s eyes as he continued to stare at the screen.

  At the sound of the doorbell, Jack rose, walked to the entrance hall, opened the front door, and welcomed his nephew. As he led Simon into the sitting room, he told him about the messages. “I’m glad to give you good news. We have the name of Ainsley’s Russian partner. It’s Grisha Lebedev, Grisha being the nickname or pet name, if you like, for Grigori, and we now have the name of the private bank Ainsley owns, although that would have been easy enough to get, I’m sure. He’s not keeping the bank a secret. Richie’s doing good for us.”

  “He certainly is,” Simon murmured and sat down when Jack waved his hand at him, indicating he should take a chair. “What’s the name of the bank, Jack?”

  “Belvedere-Macau Private Bank,” Jack told him and crossed to a trolley where there were bottles of liquor and an open bottle of white wine in a silver ice bucket. “Wine or a drop of the hard stuff?” Jack asked.

  “I wouldn’t mind a vodka on the rocks, please,” Simon responded and leaned back in the armchair, crossed his legs, relaxing finally after a long day at Harte’s.

  Once Jack had made the drinks, he joined Simon, gave him his glass. “Down the hatch!” he said.

  Simon repeated the toast. “I want to talk to you about Linnet, Jack. I know you might think it somewhat strange that we are very serious when we’ve only been seeing each other for about a week, but—”

  “She told me a little bit, Simon,” Jack cut in softly. “And I don’t think there’s anything strange about it at all.
You’ve known her a very long time. Now, miraculously, you’ve discovered you’re in love.”

  Simon nodded and gave Jack a quizzical look. “You sound approving.”

  “I am very approving. I love Linnet the most of all the Hartes. You’re a lucky chap, I can tell you that. And I’m glad this has happened; she needs a man exactly like you.”

  “Do you think her parents will be all right about it? What I mean is, well, we do want to make this permanent, Jack.”

  “I’m sure Paula and Shane will welcome you into the family with huge smiles and loving hearts, Simon. After all, they’ve known you since you were a child, so that’s not a problem. And in any case, Linnet is of age. She’s going to do what she wants whatever they think or say.”

  Jack took a swallow of his gin and tonic, and continued, “I’ve known her since she was a baby, and of all the Hartes she is the one most like her great-grandmother Emma Harte. Not only in her appearance but in character and personality. It’s uncanny. Sometimes, when she’s talking, I think it’s Emma, the way she phrases things and in some of her gestures. And she can be tough like Emma. The odd thing is, she never knew her great-grandmother. She’s just inherited everything. It’s in the genes, I guess.”

  “I think you’re right. M is so very different, wouldn’t you say? Not only in her appearance but in her personality,” Simon now ventured.

  “Yes, she is, but you know, there are moments when M also reminds me of Emma. She’s a true Harte woman, I think, with her business smarts, and she can be stubborn and bloody tough, I can assure you of that.” Jack eyed Simon for a moment and then murmured, “You think she’s more like an O’Neill than a Harte, don’t you? But take a look at her mother sometime, Simon, and you’ll see M in Paula . . . in the whole . . . cut of the jib.”

  Simon smiled. “Cut of the jib is not a nice way to describe a beautiful woman, is it?”