by Jianne Carlo
“Are you going to tell her about your powers?”
“I can’t. I don’t want to hurt Dad. But, I’m not hiding them anymore, not from close friends. Alex took it well, didn’t he?”
“Better than I did after you disappeared and everything exploded with my family.”
“Are you two identical?” She rested her chin on cupped hands, which warmed his chest.
“My brother and I? To be honest, I tried not to look at him. It was eerie. Even our scars are the same.”
“Like this one?” she said, rubbing a thumb over his right eyebrow.
He smiled and stroked her spine.
“Could I tell you two apart?”
“Yeah, he has a bit of a Scottish burr.”
“Hmm, what about here? Are you the same here?” Tracing a line of tiny nips down the middle of his chest, she licked around his navel. “And here?” She sucked the skin above his weeping erection, her saucy big browns peeping at him.
“If you ever find out, he’s a dead man. You do know what you’re starting?” Needing the words, he waited.
“I think it started when you crawled into bed naked,” she said, planting a dry kiss on the head of his prick. “I read the first chapter of that book, “Taste, the Long and Hard of It.”
“No regrets tomorrow morning?”
Golden ringlets cascaded down to her shoulders, curtaining almost her whole face, but she shook her head and flashed him an audacious grin. “Nope, nary a one.”
“Thank God.” Jake hauled her against his chest.
They spent the rest of the night talking, planning, laughing, and making love. Sunlight leaking through the gaps in the drapes found them dizzied with newfound lovers’ elation, and neither had slept a wink during the long, pleasure-filled night. At dawn, Tee dozed off. Jake succumbed to sleep a few minutes later.
Lifting one lid, a tad bleary-eyed, he read the ruby LCD on the digital clock, 8:15, and wondered what had woken him.
A knock sounded on the connecting door.
“Honey, are you awake?” Henry Inglefield’s cultured voice resonated through the wooden structure.
Jake groaned, and he shook Tee’s shoulders. “Wake up, babe,” he whispered.
“Five more minutes,” she grumbled.
“Your father’s at the door.” He surrendered to temptation and kissed her thoroughly.
She smiled up at him and stroked his cheek. “Morning, darling.”
Darling, he liked that. “Your dad’s at the door.”
“Henry? Dad?”
He nodded.
“Oh no.” She scrambled out of the bed, struggled into a hotel bathrobe, finger-combed her curls, and rushed to the door.
“Just a minute, Dad,” Tee said and opened the door a fraction. “Sorry, I’m a bit drowsy. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Go right back to bed then, honey. I’ll set a wakeup call for eleven o’clock. We’ll pick you up at noon for the Interpol meeting.” Jake heard lips smacking. “Sweet dreams, Daughter.”
“Thanks, Dad, have a good morning.” She closed the door and slumped against it, hands behind her back. “Whew!”
“We have to tell him, you know,” Jake said and waited for her reaction.
“He sort of knows. Do you mind?”
“Let me guess, the fact I visited Trinidad once a week for the last twelve weeks? Your dad’s suspected all along, I’m sure.”
“Partly that, and Scotland Yard told him I spent the night in your suite at Claridge’s. Henry asked me if we were dating.”
Jake smirked; he crooked a finger. “Come here, witchy woman.”
“Do you want to have your way with me?” She batted her eyelashes.
“Always.” Jake paused. “But, no, this is serious. I want to be present during the Interpol lunch. I’m going to call your father and explain we’re dating. Then, I’m going to ask him if I can accompany the two of you. Is that okay with you?”
Her pink tongue touched the corner of one swollen lip, and a satisfied curve captured it.
“Tee?”
“Oh yes, of course. Go ahead.”
Jake’s cell phone jingled.
She stooped and searched through the pile of clothes on the floor. “Got it.”
She brandished the phone triumphantly and threw it to his outstretched palm.
“Mathews speaking,” he barked into the speaker.
Tee hurried to the bathroom.
After finishing his conversation, Jake rapped on the door. “Babe, I have to go. Alex dug up some information on another of Tony’s accounts. We’re meeting with the bank managers in thirty minutes. I have to dash right now.”
When she rushed out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he’d already dressed. Taking a second to appreciate their newfound intimacy and the picture she presented, all fresh and glowing, hair damp and curling, he said, “You look delicious, and I have to go. Life’s a bitch.”
Coffee, Tea & OJ
As soon as he and Alex finished with the bankers, Jake headed off to see Henry Inglefield. Exhausted, he shut his eyes and leaned against the cold passenger window of the English black cab.
A familiar heavy darkness captured him, and a kaleidoscope of images, stream-of-conscious style, invaded his brain. They all starred Graziella Leandro and the caretaker. Tee, a plate of kippers, his nostrils twitched in protest. It morphed into a dozing Tee lying prone on the sofa and the back of a man’s head, not the caretaker. His violent intentions filled a shadowed room.
Jake struggled to shake off the torpor, but remained in the firm grip of his vision, and it fast-forwarded into a blur. He came out of the trance knowing something had happened, but unable to discern what. Adrenalin coursed a torrential downpour, overheating the veins at his temple. He pressed his thumb to the spot, every instinct urging him to return to Grosvenor.
The black cab shuddered to a halt; they’d arrived at the Trinidadian Embassy. Still absorbed in the scenes playing in his mind, he paid the driver and exited.
His cell phone jingled, and as he stood in the middle of a security check, it rang aimlessly in the square plastic tray slugging along a conveyer belt.
“Welcome, m’boy, welcome.”
Henry Inglefield greeted him as he stepped out of the walk-through scanner.
Jake shook his outstretched hand. “It’s great to see you again.”
Henry waved at the security equipment. “I apologize. It’s strict protocol. Even I have to go through it every day. A consequence of the times we live in, I’m afraid.”
“I understand, Jake said as he collected his Blackberry from the plastic container.
“This way.” Henry urged him to the right, down a narrow corridor.
Five minutes later, they were ensconced in overstuffed chintz chairs.
“Nice office.” He surveyed the gas fireplace in front of him and the burnished cherry wood entertainment unit lining the opposite wall.
“Thank you. I share it with the prime minister.” Henry motioned to the silver coffee pot resting on a footed tray. “A cup of coffee?”
“I could use one.” He poured the brown liquid into one of the two pottery mugs emblazoned with graceful Scarlet Ibises, Trinidad’s national bird, sitting on a similarly decorated ceramic tray and sniffed. “I love the smell of coffee, but it never quite tastes the way you expect.”
Henry grinned. “I know what you mean. I think that’s why my wife and daughter prefer tea. What’s the important matter you want to discuss? You’ve certainly piqued my curiosity.”
“I’ll get right to the point.” He set his cup on the table. “Your daughter and I are dating.”
A slow smile spread across the other man’s face. “Does Tee know you’re telling me this?”
“Yes. She’s a little leery of your reaction, and even more so of her mother’s. Her marriage to Tony has made her wary of relationships.”
“I know. I’ve given their relationship a great deal of thought and Tricia and I have discusse
d it over the last few months. At first, Tony was good with Tee. She was a painfully shy teenager who preferred her horse’s company to people. Tony was a magnificent horseman, the best rider I’ve ever seen. She blossomed during the training for the Olympics, becoming more and more confident in her abilities.”
“Her friend, Dee, thinks Tony sabotaged her tryouts. Your thoughts?”
Henry stroked his goatee, and shook his head. “I think Tony was almost as disappointed as Tee. Tricia felt he was good for her, older, more mature, but I had my doubts.”
“Doubts?”
“Tony didn’t have an aristocratic pedigree, but his polo expertise put him into exalted circles. He had limited funds and he played on Prince Charles’ team with people who never thought about money and were accustomed to the very best.”
He leaned forward in the chair. Jake never expected to feel any empathy for Tony Trent, but a twinge hit the edges of his mind. Grudgingly, he said, “And they never accepted him. He was always on the outside looking in.”
“Something like that. I had hoped when you took him on as a partner and he started to make money, his bitterness would recede, but the opposite occurred.”
Jake’s phone jingled, and he looked at the number. “Sorry, Henry, I should take this.”
“Mathews speaking.” The voice on the other end sounded familiar.
“Brown, here, Mr., er, Jake.”
“George, is something wrong?” He listened with mounting horror to Brown’s dialogue. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ll brief you in the car. We need to get to Grosvenor as soon as possible. Tee’s missing.”
As soon as they were en route to the hotel, Henry demanded, “Explain missing.”
“The concierge at Grosvenor tried to deliver a message from an Arthur Flood of the Met to her. No one seemed to be in the suite.”
He looked out the cab’s window. Heavy, smoky clouds appeared on the verge of weeping a steady stream of rain.
“Arthur’s a school chum of mine. He was the one responsible for clearing Tallulah of all charges. Speaking of which, I left her in the suite this morning. She was going back to sleep,” Henry added. “She’s a sound sleeper.”
“I had two dozen roses delivered to her. I bribed the concierge into setting them up in the suite’s common room. When he entered the suite, there was no one there. However, he did find a room service cart.”
“Tee enjoys a hearty breakfast,” Henry commented. “She is particularly fond of kippers when she’s in England.”
He blanched and remembered his vision and Tee’s fondness for fish for breakfast. He shuddered, and a black fog of dread hovered dancing at the edge of his eyesight, but he continued his explanation.
“The concierge noticed the cart didn’t have the standard Grosvenor-monogrammed pewter vase with a single long-stemmed red rose. He checked with room service. They hadn’t delivered anything to your suite.”
“I agree that’s suspicious, but why did he jump to the conclusion Tee’s missing?”
“The man checked her room. He spotted her purse and her cell phone on the dresser.”
“Now that is definitely odd. She always carries her purse and her mobile phone, even in Trinidad, far less here in the UK.”
Jake checked his watch, almost eleven. “The concierge questioned the hotel staff. A bellman remembered seeing a man knocking on the door of your suite when he dropped off luggage to a nearby room. On his way back to the elevator, he saw the same man entering your suite.”
“Tee does have friends in the UK, but I’m certain she wasn’t expecting any visitors today, and her friends are almost all female.”
“The concierge sent the same bellman to deliver Flood’s message less than five minutes later. No one answered the doorbell or his knocking.”
“I’ll call Arthur.” Henry whipped out his cell phone. “I don’t like the sounds of this.”
He spent ten minutes on the phone. Buildings whizzed by, and the patter of rain on the cab’s rooftop became a continual drone. Henry’s expression grew grimmer with each passing minute, as did Jake’s trepidation. Finally, the elderly man snapped his phone shut.
“Arthur’s concerned, particularly since the announcement of my new position hit the papers today and because of the error in detaining Tee at Heathrow when she arrived. If the media gets wind of this, they’ll jump on it.”
“Is he assigning someone to the case?”
“Better than that, he’s dispatched a team to the hotel. This case will be their highest priority. He’s promised to put the full weight of his position behind us. Arthur and the finance expert at Interpol planned to debrief her over lunch today.”
“Actually, that was one of the reasons I came to your office. I wanted to tag along. I think Tony’s activities drew the attention of his criminal colleagues to Tee. Did she tell you what my Private Investigator uncovered about his background?”
“We didn’t have much time together yesterday. Two inspectors who work jointly for Interpol and the Met were ordered to pick her up from her nanna’s cottage and bring her to headquarters. Arthur and I met her there, and I dropped her off to the Grosvenor and went back to work. I saw her briefly last evening as I had to meet with two EC officials for dinner.”
“Let me bring you up to date.” He spent the next few minutes outlining his suspicions and detailed the amounts run through the offshore account. However, he had no idea how to broach his vision and Graziella and the caretaker’s involvement.
“Give me a few minutes to inform Arthur about this.”
While the cab inched forwards, Henry spoke with his school friend. By the time he ended the telephone conversation, tight lines appeared at both corners of his mouth.
“It pays to have friends in high places,” Jake said and then added, “Tee told me you know of her special abilities.”
“Did you speak with her today?”
Although only minutes past eleven, the darkened skies mimicked impending night. Jake tore his eyes away from the window and met Henry’s gaze straight on. “I spent last night in her room. She told me then.”
“I may be old, Jake, but I’m not blind, deaf, or dumb.” Henry flashed him a watery grin. “Premarital sex is a fact of life. It’s not as if Tee is a naïve young woman. She’s a widow, after all.”
He bit his lip, Tee’s innocence her story to tell, not his. “Back to her special powers, did you know that one of them is the ability to time-travel?”
Her father’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline. For a few seconds, Henry appeared speechless. Then he muttered, “Marvelous, time travel. Well, well.”
“If she’s excited or scared, she can vanish to a place she feels safe,” Jake explained.
“I saw the videotape of her disappearance at the airport.” His wonder-filled voice echoed in the taxi. “It happened, then. It really happened. Well, well. How does she do it?”
Jake threw his hands up in the air. “Beats me, but I’ve been along for the ride. In the last few days, I’ve seen Roman gladiators, Vikings, and sixteenth century Scotsmen in kilts. Although, to be fair, the Scotsmen were my fault.”
“My, my,” Henry said. “How fascinating.”
“The reason I’m telling you this is because she may have become scared or anxious and decided to go to someplace safe.”
“Possibly, but that doesn’t explain a room service cart that nobody ordered, which the hotel’s staff did not deliver,” Henry pointed out. “If it weren’t for that fact, I’d never have pressured Arthur into acting.”
“Hell, I forgot about that.” He rubbed his eyes. “I can’t think of any other explanation for her vanishing other than the time travel.”
The ubiquitous London roadwork held them up, and it took twice as long to get to Grosvenor as it would normally. They reached the hotel at one o’clock, and the concierge escorted them to Henry’s suite.
Four men and two women wearing transpare
nt latex gloves worked in silence throughout the three rooms. A white-haired gentleman around Henry’s age greeted them as they entered the lounging area.
“Arthur, this is Jake Mathews. He and my daughter are dating. This is Sir Arthur Flood of the Met.”
Jake kept his expression neutral, but his heart hurdled a six-foot fence at Henry’s introductory words. He focused on the Met Commissioner. The man appeared the epitome of the dignified spy. Give him a tweed hat, a cape, and a pipe, and there stood Sherlock Holmes.
“Right. This is where we are. Room service, most emphatically, did not deliver this breakfast. We’ve completed preliminary analysis of the food. The orange juice and the coffee contained double doses of a potent sleeping pill. According to our experts, if your daughter consumed all the orange juice and the coffee, she would be unconscious for several hours.” Arthur showed them the empty crystal pitcher. A smidgen of orange pulp lined the circular bottom rim of the container.
“She drank it all, then?” Jake asked.
“Yes, but not the coffee.”
“Does that make a difference?” Henry inquired.
“It may. We believe whosoever did this counted on her drinking both. The orange juice alone would only make her sleep for approximately two hours.”
“Thank goodness my daughter prefers tea.”
A chill shroud enveloped Jake. “This was planned.”
“We believe so.” Arthur Flood agreed.
“By whom?”
“We’re not certain. At this moment, the money in the offshore account is our focus. Did Tallulah have access to that account?”
“No, only two people signed on that account, Tony and I.” Jake remembered Tee’s comment about the airport detention. “Why was Tee detained at the airport? And who ordered it?”
“She’s named as a director in the Trinidadian operation and in the holding company for the offshore account.”
“Can’t be. I flew to Antigua when we set up the holding company. Tony and I were the only ones with shares.”
“Are you aware there were two accounts?”
Flood’s words sent barbs of terror into Jake’s soul. He closed his eyes and cursed himself for being a fool.