“Well, yeah, if you call 2001 the Bad Ol’ Days.”
“Oh, stop! You’re not serious.”
“’Fraid I am, though I s’pose you could write off that latest episode of head-taking as a nasty little hiccup. Just a minor backslide during an intertribal tiff about land rights.”
“I thought Lia seemed a bit…intense, herself,” Raine murmured, smoothing her palm thoughtfully down her neck.
“If she’s a Dayak, then, yeah, the women were as warlike as the men. But what you’ve got to understand is that head-hunting was a matter of prestige. To prove your daring and skill. If a guy wanted to score with a girl, he darned sure better bring a few heads when he came courting.”
“Beats a bouquet of roses any ol’ day,” Raine observed dryly.
“On an island with ten thousand flowers for the picking, I reckon it did. Anyway, to take a head meant you were a great achiever. And to advertise that you were a head-lopping Bravo, you had your hands tattooed blue—from the wrist to the first knuckle.”
Goose bumps stampeded up her arms. Raine shuddered as she rubbed them. “Oh, come on! This is a thoroughly twenty-first century kid. Uses the Internet and nail polish, for Pete’s sake.”
“Yeah, but it never fails to amaze me how people hang on to what works for them from their own culture, like polygamy or camel racing, then they graft MTV and cell phones on top of it. All I’m saying is that maybe Lia’s given herself blue hands to show she’s a high achiever. That she’s fearless and she’ll stop at nothing.”
“Or that she means to score big,” Raine murmured.
“All of the above. So my one bit of advice to you is, whatever you do, just don’t…lose your—”
Raine groaned. “Don’t you dare say it!”
“Okay, I won’t,” he agreed, chuckling. “I’ll call you when I’ve got more.” And just like that Trey was gone.
Raine sighed, hung up the phone and oozed back down to mattress level. “Nap?” she suggested, rubbing Otto’s belly with her toes.
Like a fuzzy orange bear trap, his paws snapped around her.
Chapter 8
It was 3:08! “Come on, Ms. Precisely, pick up that phone!” Raine prayed, wincing as another helicopter juddered overhead, then roared off over the Brooklyn Bridge.
Betting that Lia would have set their original rendezvous not too far from wherever she lived, Raine had returned to the neighborhood. The bridge breached like a gray whale over her northern horizon. Beneath its belly the blue river teemed with barges and boats. The lunchtime flood of brokers from Wall Street had gone back to their moneymaking, though foot-weary tourists still shuffled along the pier’s decks and stopped at its railings to ogle the view.
Raine’s laptop lay ready on the table before her, already opened to a Web site that boasted the best backward phone directory online. If Lia called from a landline, Raine could ID her number, then trace it from there.
“Dammit, call me!” Could Cade have gotten to the kid somehow? Outbid her already?
“Nice day. Feel like some company?” A straggler from the stock exchange touched the back of the chair opposite Raine’s and gave her a winsome smile.
“Sorry, but I’m expecting a business—yes!” Raine cried as her phone chimed. The suit shrugged and retreated while she said crisply, “Raine Ashaway speaking.”
“How much will you bid?” demanded Lia, cutting straight to the chase.
Raine rolled her eyes. “Hello, Lia. How are you?” That drew no response, so she continued. “I do have an offer I think you’ll like, but it’s a bit complicated. I’d rather show you the figures on paper. Could I invite you over to Pier 17 for a drink and a chat?”
“Not today. How much will you give for this amazing, most beguiling fossil?”
Raine smacked her forehead, then sighed. “Okay. Do you know what I mean by percent? A share of something?”
“Huh! You think I’m stupid? I study math, science, many difficult subjects here in New York City.”
“Good, then here’s what Ashaway All proposes. It wouldn’t be fair to offer you just a flat price for the tooth, because nobody knows what it’s worth. Nothing like it has ever been seen or sold before. So here’s what I suggest: We pay you a certain amount up front. An advance on what you’ll finally realize.” Enough cash to keep the kid happy, and let her embark on a shopping spree. Raine was hoping that by the time the real payoff arrived, she’d have calmed down enough to bank some of it. It would be a shame to see her blow her fortune overnight.
“How much?”
“That depends on what you sell me.” Much as she wanted the tooth, Raine wanted the rest of the T. rex more. Whatever Lia knew about the dino’s location, that had to be part of their deal. “But first, here’s what Ashaway All would do to earn our cut of the final sales price.”
Damn, but she hated to negotiate over the phone, unable to watch Lia’s face. Still Raine forged cheerily on, outlining how her firm, with its sterling reputation and worldwide connections, was best suited to vouch for the tooth’s authenticity and provenance.
In addition to that, they were uniquely qualified to promote publicity and boost desire. They’d create a buzz through scientific channels by writing scholarly articles for paleontology mags.
They’d alert relevant museums and the most avid collectors to this extraordinary opportunity. And best of all, Raine hoped to form a consortium of buyers to acquire, then donate Lia’s tooth to a world-class museum, where dinosaur-lovers from everywhere could come to—
“But how much do I get and when do I get it?” Lia cut in.
“I could give you your advance tomorrow,” Raine assured her.
“Then the rest of the money?”
Raine drew a deep breath and crossed her fingers. “Six months, maybe.” Maybe much longer if she could find the rest of the dino. If they brought the whole beast to auction at once, at least minimally cleaned so that bidders could see its opaline fire, it would take longer.
But then the sky would be the limit on what they could get. No, forget all limits; they’d shoot the moon. Lia would be set for life. “I know it’s hard, but it would really pay to be patient.”
“But how much would it pay? Why won’t you say this?”
“Because I don’t know,” Raine said, hanging on hard to her temper. “And anybody who claims to know what your tooth is worth—” Even if he’s tall, dark and toe-curlingly sexy “—would be lying. That’s why I’m recommending that we work on a percentage, rather than a flat fee.”
“How much would you pay me flat? Right here, right now?”
Raine ground her teeth. Okay, you want to be stupid? “I suppose…something in the range of a hundred thousand.” She could up that price if Cade matched it—but not by much, not for a single tooth.
“Hmm,” Lia hedged, for once at a loss for words.
“And I’ll buy your watch, as well,” Raine added. “Say an extra ten thou for that? What do you say, Lia?”
“I say…” Lia’s voice held a smirk. “That I have to think, most seriously.”
“That offer is good only for today, Lia.”
“Ohhh, you think so?” she crooned. “I bet you pay me that tomorrow, if I want it.” If Kincade didn’t offer her more tonight, is what she meant.
“You think so?” Raine echoed, extra dry. “Well, maybe—and maybe not. I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” She grabbed the loose braid hanging on her shoulder and yanked it. Temper! If getting her dino required that she swallow her pride, then—“Look, there’s other options we could discuss. Why don’t I come over and—”
“No, thank you. I have other plans. I must call Kincade.”
“Well, what about after that? By the time I catch a cab—”
“No, because then I go shopping. To Victory’s Secret, do you know this store? I buy something special to wear tonight.”
She was turning the knife, and doing it with such childlike glee—some headhunter genes in her pedigree,
for sure. Raine bit her tongue. Honey, if you think I’m sitting here whining with envy, then think again. Sell me the damned tooth and I’ll dance polkas at your and Cade’s wedding. “Then would you call me when you get back from shopping?”
“Maybe—or maybe not.”
O-okay, that was enough for this round. “Whatever,” Raine murmured. “But before you sell that tooth, if you’re as smart as you think you are, you’ll talk to me again. Bye now.” She hung up just as Lia started speaking.
Always bargain from a position of strength, was another of her father’s rules. She’d come close to breaking it.
“Time to get tough.” Raine consulted the caller ID readout on her phone, then turned to her laptop and typed in the numbers.
Fifty dollars restored the restaurateur’s memory and loosened his tongue. “Ravi Singh?” he repeated, pocketing Cade’s bill. “Yeah, I guess he works here. You sure you’re nothing to do with Immigration?”
“Positive. Where is he, back in the kitchen?”
Cade had spent most of his day tracking the Indian waiter who’d delivered Lia’s message last night at the museum. He’d chased down the caterer who’d served the fund-raising fiasco, locating her finally at a friend’s apartment, where she was nursing a sprained ankle. In the stampede out of the museum, she’d tripped and rolled all the way down its high entry steps.
He’d learned from her that the mystery messenger wasn’t one of her regular crew. Singh had applied for a job only the day before the gala. Asked for his experience, he’d claimed to have waited tables for two years at a well-known Italian restaurant in the East Nineties.
As far as his boss was concerned, he still did. “Ravi’s out of town,” said the man, as Cade made a move toward the kitchen. “Took off yesterday and today, to visit a sick sister down in Baltimore.” When Cade raised an eyebrow, he turned up his palms. “So who knows if he’s got a sister—and who cares? Guy’s neat, always on time, never forgets an order or drops a dish. If he wants to take a few days off without pay, who am I to bitch?”
“Got an address for him?”
“Now giving that out would make me sorta uneasy.”
Cade pulled another fifty from his wallet. “Would this make it any easier?”
When the parking valet returned with his Jag, Cade stayed at the curb while he called his personal assistant. “What have you got for me?” He’d assigned Marc the task of selecting a five-star restaurant for that night, emphasis on decor to dazzle a kid with Hollywood fantasies, not on fine food and impeccable but unobtrusive service, the sort of place Cade preferred.
The sort of place he’d have chosen for Raine Ashaway.
He scowled at the errant thought. His plans for Ashaway didn’t include wining and dining her. Bed, maybe yes. No, bed inevitably yes. But when they got to it, it would be a mating, not a date. Tigers rolled in the grass, they didn’t unfold napkins.
“I’ve got you down for the best table at Cafe Gray,” Marc reported. “For eight o’clock. But to get a reservation before Christmas, I had to promise ’em your firstborn.”
“They want to wait that long?”
“In lieu of a brat, the hostess graciously accepted two hundred. I’ve greased her already, so don’t do it again.”
“Right. Good going.” Marc was a man to be counted on. When Cade stepped down from managing partner at Okab Oil, he’d hired the PA to oversee his home office. Because though Cade no longer worried about day-to-day operations, he still handled a large chunk of the company’s oil exploration.
Marc took care of the details, everything from commissioning satellite surveys to obtaining deep-sea core samples. When they weren’t scouting for virgin oil fields, he still had plenty to do, keeping track of Cade’s previous drilling royalties and advising on where to bank the ungodly stream of cash.
He’d been somewhat surprised this past year when Cade started investing heavily in dinosaurs. Given his M.B.A. from Wharton, probably Marc didn’t approve. But a PA’s discretion was his stock-in-trade; he knew when to question and when to hold his tongue. Meanwhile Marc’s skills in obtaining drilling rights served him just as well when Cade set him to snapping up licenses to excavate.
Wherever the Ashaways hoped to dig.
“Did the girl call yet?” Cade continued, glancing at his watch.
“She did, at three-forty-five. As you suggested, I told her I was the butler. I thought she’d swoon, for a minute there. Then once she recovered, she started treating me like a flunky.”
“Watched too much Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous at an impressionable age,” Cade agreed. “Did you capture a traceable phone number?”
“I did. She was talking on a landline, and its address is a few blocks east of Chinatown, a rough neighborhood.”
Cade grimaced while Marc read off the same address that he held in his hand. He might as well have slept in. But Lia could have called from an untraceable cell phone. He’d learned years ago to never leave anything to chance, if more effort would nail it down.
“Okay,” he decided. “Then I’m heading home. Find me a stretch limo—black—and lay on all the frills. Champagne, roses, etc. Tell the driver I’ll want to collect Lia at her place at…say…six-thirty.”
“Umm, did I misunderstand? I gave her directions to meet you at.”
“You didn’t. But now we’ve got her address, I’ll use it. A simple demo that she’s not calling all the shots. I’d say with this kid, the only thing she’ll respect is a show of power.”
“Ah. The type that confuses a gentleman with a wimp?”
“The type that confuses a gentleman with a sucker.”
Chapter 9
“Can you talk right now?” asked Trey, when Raine answered her cell phone.
“Love to. I’m bored out of my mind.” Standing in the sixth-floor stairwell of a seedy tenement, with her elbows propped on a windowsill, Raine peered across the narrow street. At the windows of Lia’s apartment.
She’d taken up her spy post a couple of hours ago, after inspecting the mailboxes in the unlocked foyer of the building opposite. One box belonged to Ravi Singh, the name corresponding to the phone number Lia had used. Its card showed that he lived in apartment 6A, the unit facing the street. Lia wasn’t listed as a resident, but another male name, Ivan Bogdanovich, was scrawled in below Ravi’s. Two roommates plus a live-in girlfriend, was Raine’s best guess.
“What’s up?” Trey inquired.
Tersely she outlined the situation. Since the downstairs buzzer was broken and the inner door unlocked, she’d climbed six flights of stairs to knock on 6A’s door. “But nobody was home, so I figure I’ve got two options here.
“First, assuming that Lia returns to dress for her date, I follow her to the restaurant where she’ll meet Kincade. No way does she want to deal further with me, till she knows what he’s willing to pay, so why fight it? Let her hear him out. Then I’ll drop by their table along with dessert, ask what he bid—and offer more.”
“One tiny problem with that,” Trey observed. “My latest research shows that Kincade can buy and sell Ashaway All a dozen times over. If he wants the tooth, you can’t outspend him.”
Raine winced. “O-okay, that brings me to Option Two. I’ve had a nasty feeling all afternoon that I wouldn’t be winning this auction. The chemistry between me and Lia isn’t good—in fact, it’s rotten. And if Kincade’s got more money…But on the other hand, a T. rex has sixty-four teeth. So let him score that one—and I go after the other sixty-three, plus the rest of the dino.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Raine smiled to herself. “I figure if I can learn Lia’s last name—and verify her first—then I can find her family when I reach her hometown. Once I meet her family, and her neighbors, and the postman, I bet I can bluff or charm or bribe my way to the next link in the chain—whoever sent Lia the package. And then pay that person to tell me where the tooth was obtained, and backtrack it from there.”
“Sounds like a
plan. And so you’re lurking in a stairwell because?”
“Because I need to meet one of her roomies. I suppose I could buttonhole everybody who enters the building and ask ’em if they live in 6A, but this seemed more discreet. From up here I’ll see when somebody comes home, then I can zip across. Knock on the door, chat ’em up.”
“Ask if they’d like to rat out their roommate?”
“Well, I’m gambling that Lia may have worn out her welcome. We’re talking a Borneo Princess here. If she does her share of the dishes or the housecleaning or even pays her portion of the rent, I’d be amazed.”
“You’d be amazed what guys can forgive, if the rest of the package is right. And willing to be unwrapped.”
“Which is why we women rule the world, but still you’d think—oops, here she comes!” Raine stood on tiptoe and craned close to the glass. “Complete with shopping bags from Victory’s Secret, as she calls it.”
“They’ll forgive her,” Trey predicted. “I’d forgive her.”
Raine gave him a pitying sigh, then checked her watch as Lia disappeared into the building. Six-oh-five. “So…did you learn anything else about Kincade, besides that he’s rolling in oil bucks?”
“Still digging into it. You were right—he’s from our part of the world. Montana. According to a profile a few years back in Forbes magazine, he was raised in a boys’ home for delinquents. Kincade refused to discuss it—the reporter got that fact from another source. Apparently the home wasn’t a junior country club—anything but. Most of its inmates graduate from there, then take an advanced degree at the state prison.”
“But Kincade didn’t?” Raine rubbed the back of her hand slowly across her lips. No wonder the man had an edge; in a place like that he’d have had to toughen—or go under.
“Not him. Guess he was smart enough to learn his lesson. On release at age seventeen, he was hired as a roughneck by a drilling company—some sort of state-sponsored apprenticeship. He worked with them for two years, and I guess he must have been a standout—they paid his way through five years at Colorado School of Mines.
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