All the Light There Is

by Anise Eden

  Kai rolled his eyes and said, “I should have known you weren’t over there trying to learn some romantic phrases in Russian.” Everyone grinned.

  “Moving right along,” Ben said. He had heard from Danielle, and she’d confirmed that the owners were using the Mercier Cove Trust to launder money. To keep their transactions away from prying eyes, clients like Opretec would anonymously deposit payments into escrow accounts in Switzerland. Then the money would be broken into smaller amounts and sent as payments for imaginary business services to any one of a number of shell corporations Mercier had set up in the Caribbean. Finally, the shell corporations would give the money to the Mercier Cove Trust in the form of charitable donations. This process greatly reduced the amount of taxes being paid, but more importantly, it allowed transactions to go through while keeping the clients’ identities secret. Mercier could use Team Forward to sell information to whomever they liked and do it in complete privacy.

  And Ben and Pete didn’t like who Mercier was selling information to that week. Max had done some research into Opretec, and while the corporation appeared to be aboveboard, they were indeed heavily invested in uranium mining in Kazakhstan. Max’s sources inside the military told him there were rumors that Opretec was taking the ore back to Russia, where they were enriching bomb-grade uranium-235. If true, Ben said, that was a serious violation of several nuclear nonproliferation agreements and treaties—and the members of Team Forward might be inadvertently violating the Espionage Act, depending on the content of the regular updates they were giving to Opretec and other international clients. Pete thought the “inadvertently” part was probably optimistic, but Ben didn’t want to jump to any conclusions until we had evidence. We hoped our dinner that night would shed some light on the owners’ true motives.

  Armed with as much information as we were going to get, it was finally time for Ben and me to get ready for our trip out to the yacht. Although Vani was petite and I was decidedly not, she had brought a sundress that sort of fit me, although she’d had to use considerable force to pull up the back zipper. It was white and dotted with yellow daisies. Fortunately, I had some white sandals to match. Ben had a suit with him, of course, but he decided to match the formality of his outfit to mine, opting for slacks and dock shoes with a sports jacket over his dress shirt—top button undone as usual.

  The week before, I’d been outraged when Ben secretly planted a GPS tracker in my bag—but it had ended up saving my life. This time, I immediately agreed to wear the tiny, stick-on device. We decided to put my tracker inside the waistband of my dress, and Ben wore his in the pocket of his sports jacket. Also the previous week, their friends in Yankee Company had gifted Pete and Ben a couple of cell phones that also worked as single-channel radios. That meant Ben would be securely transmitting every sound within shouting distance to Pete, even if there was no cell phone reception or the phone was turned off. Pete wanted Ben to carry a gun, but Ben was fairly sure that bringing a weapon to an intimate dinner on a congressman’s yacht would send all the wrong messages.

  Talk of bringing a gun made my stomach churn. Ben took my hand lightly in his and reassured me that we were talking through all of the options “just to be thorough,” and that everything would go smoothly. We’d have a chance to take the measure of some of the other owners, and hopefully convince them that we were eager to be a part of Mercier—and benefit from it financially—without worrying too much about how the profits were made. Then, hopefully, they’d be willing to open up and answer a few questions for us.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was almost four thirty. Ben and I waited for Skeet on the pier. We admired one another for how well we’d cleaned up, but he voiced a concern that the bust of my dress might burst at the seams any moment. At least that was the excuse he gave for glancing at my chest repeatedly.

  “Cut it out,” I said with a laugh. “You’re going to distract me, and I need to focus on our plan. Otherwise, I could blow it.”

  Playful Ben disappeared, replaced immediately by all-business Ben. “Cate, you’re not going to blow anything.” He touched my elbow and slid his fingers down my arm until his hand was holding mine. “We both know the plan backwards and forwards. If by some chance you say or do something that doesn’t fit, I’ll find a way to cover. And since I have every intention of talking you into marrying me one day, the engagement part should be easy to fake,” he teased, trying to put me at ease. “Besides, we’re not going to be alone out there. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Understood?”

  I nodded and squeezed his hand, forcing myself to smile back.

  Skeet joined us on the pier, dapper in a light gray suit. He reiterated that there had been no need for us to go to the trouble of dressing up, although he appeared pleased that we’d done so. He explained that the other owners had spent the day on the yacht and were waiting for us there. We boarded a large speedboat and enjoyed the warmth of the late afternoon sun. The boat’s captain, Phil, was a local with extensive knowledge of the area. He helped us pass the time by pointing out landmarks, plants, and birds.

  Eventually we reached the open waters of the Chesapeake Bay, falling into a comfortable silence as we savored the feel of the breeze and misty sprays of water. Once Phil spotted the yacht, I ducked down into the covered section of the speedboat and undid my tight braid, giving my curls a quick fluffing. Vani had said it would make the sundress look better if I let my hair fall down and cover my shoulders, and since I had no clue about fashion, I took her word for it.

  As we drew closer to the yacht, I realized how massive it was—a floating mansion. There was some awkwardness climbing the stepladder in sandals and a dress, but Ben had encouraged Skeet to go up first to give me a hand in. Then Ben brought up the rear so that if I fell, he could catch me—and if I flashed anyone, it would be him.

  Congressman Tucker and Mr. Hencock were there to greet us, also wearing suits and with cocktails in hand. Apparently, it was just going to be the five of us for dinner. Greetings were exchanged, and Ben and I behaved with due deference and humility as we were introduced to the congressman. I noticed two men trying to blend into the background, but they looked an awful lot like security guards or Secret Service agents. They wore black suits with bulges at the hip, earpieces with wires that went down into their shirts, and they carried themselves like big cats—loose but ready to attack.

  A crewmember approached us with a small metal lock box and held it open. Several cell phones were inside.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Tucker said. “We figure there’s no point being out on the water if we’re going to stay tethered to land. We have a policy: all cell phones go in the box until you leave the vessel. That way, we’re all living in the moment, and not tempted to check messages constantly.”

  I hadn’t brought a cell, but I tensed, knowing the significance of Ben’s. If he was concerned, though, he didn’t show it. Ben pulled out his cell, turned it off, and dropped it in the box. “I like that policy,” he said, sounding sincere. “I may have to experiment with instituting it at our clinic.”

  A ripple of approval passed through the owners. “Don’t worry,” Skeet added. “The staff at the lodge knows where we are, and they’ll contact the captain if anything requires our attention.”

  “So let’s hope it’s a quiet night—aside from the celebration, that is,” Tucker said, winking at me. He gestured to one of the uniformed, white-gloved members of the waitstaff, who brought forward a bottle of champagne in an iced silver bucket. Another waiter appeared with a tray of empty glasses.

  “To Cate,” Tucker said as the glasses were filled. “Your father was a dear friend of ours, and we feel his loss keenly. But we know that he would be more than pleased to see you take your place as an owner of the property.”

  The waiter distributed the glasses and we followed Tucker’s lead, holding them aloft. “To the newest owner of Mercier!”

  Smiling, the others toasted, “To Cate!” Everyone took a drink exce
pt for Ben and me.

  “You two don’t drink?” Hencock asked in his smooth southern drawl.

  Skeet smacked his forehead. “Paul, I forgot to tell you! I’m sorry, Cate, Ben.”

  “Not a problem. Cate is still in training with the MacGregor Group,” Ben explained. “As part of our protocol, she can’t have alcohol. I don’t want her to feel like the odd man out, so we’ll both just have soda, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, I can do you one better!” With a flick of his finger, Tucker ordered us new glasses. “Sparkling cider for our guests.”

  “We also wanted to celebrate you two kids,” Hencock said. “Skeet tells us you’re getting hitched!”

  “That’s right,” I said, not even having to fake my happiness as Ben put his arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head.

  The waiter popped the cork on a bottle of sparkling cider and poured our drinks. Then we all raised our glasses again. “Nothing could bring me greater joy than to see the daughter and son of two of my dear friends fall in love,” Skeet said, his eyeglasses misting. “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials!” To that, we all drank.

  Tucker then took us on a tour of the yacht, which was even more spectacular than I had imagined. There were two entire floors above deck with walls of glass. The first housed a dance floor that could be converted into a large dining room, professional audio/visual equipment, and a lush living area with the largest flat-screen TV I’d ever seen. A conference room and an office space on the top floor both provided a breathtaking view of the Bay. We paused there long enough to finish our drinks and take in the sunset. Everywhere we went, the two black-suited men shadowed Tucker, confirming my guess that they were some type of security detail.

  One of the black suits touched the com device in his ear, then spoke briefly to Tucker, who announced that dinner was ready. He assured us that the best parts of the yacht were below deck. Once we got down the stairs, I understood why. The floors and walls were made of dark wood, complemented by furniture covered in soft leather and richly textured fabrics. An enormous stuffed swordfish hung on one wall, but the rest were decorated with photographs of the local area. At one end, doors lead off to other rooms—bedrooms, I guessed—and at the other, a door bore the sign, “HEAD,” indicating the bathroom. Just in front of the bedrooms was a large dining table. While the men settled in around it, I excused myself to wash my hands.

  Though small, like everything else on the yacht, the bathroom was nicely appointed. Once inside, I ran cold water over my hands and tucked them around the back of my neck. Everything seemed to be going well, but my nerves were still on edge. It was easy enough to make admiring noises while Tucker showed us his yacht, but once we sat down to dinner, I knew the dynamics would change, and Ben and I would be put under a magnifying glass. And with Ben’s phone shut away, we truly were on our own.

  No point worrying now, I told myself. You have a job to do. I closed my eyes and tested my empathic senses, trying to transform myself into an energetic satellite dish so that I could catch all of the emotions that would be flying around the dinner table. Knowing that I would have to be in top form, I had allowed Vani to perform an aura cleansing-ritual to open up my heart chakra as much as possible. From my work as a therapist, I knew how to subtly reach out and empathically sense another person’s feelings while keeping my facial expression neutral. But this was a whole group of people, and they were all trying to conceal things. It was going to be a challenge, to put it mildly. I took a deep breath, plastered on a smile, and headed back to join the dinner party.

  When I returned, classical music was playing softly in the background. So civilized, I thought, a few drops of bitterness rising in my throat. I remembered what Vani had said about Tucker and Hencock, that beneath the surface, their auras were rotten to the core.

  As I predicted, the owners had already started in with the questions. Ben was handling everything smoothly, of course—a little too smoothly for my taste, in fact, as he described where he was taking me the next day to pick out my engagement ring. They all stood as I approached, and Ben pulled out my chair. Unused to such formality, I just smiled, nodded, and let him push my chair in.

  “So when’s the big day?” Hencock asked.

  “Oh, we haven’t set a date yet,” I said.

  “That’s right.” Ben caressed the back of my hand with the pad of his thumb. “In fact, we might not set a date at all, and elope instead.”

  Somehow I managed to keep my smile plastered on and refrain from kicking Ben under the table.

  “I like that,” Tucker said. “A man of action.”

  “Well, what do you know,” Hencock added, “we might have an old-fashioned whirlwind romance on our hands!”

  Skeet wagged his finger at Ben. “I know you’re telling Ardis about your engagement this weekend, but I hope you’ll tell your mother too, Ben—sooner rather than later. Especially if you’re considering eloping. You know Angeline will be mad as a wet hen if you leave her out!”

  “Sound advice!” Ben and Skeet exchanged knowing smiles.

  A mild headache started behind my eyes as the discussion about our pretend marriage continued over appetizers. There was some discussion of the tax benefits, interest rates on mortgages, and various other mind-numbing financial subjects that I had no desire to even think about, let alone talk about over dinner with a group of unscrupulous businessmen. Fortunately, Ben seemed energized by the conversation and was more than able to hold up our end. At least we’re actually in love, I thought as I dug into the shrimp cocktail and crab dip. That’s one thing we don’t have to fake.

  The appetizers were cleared away and the main course was brought out: plates of grilled bluefish, accompanied by wild rice, a squash casserole, and delicious mango chutney. Salad and a few other sides were served family style. As we began to taste the various dishes, I voiced my admiration of the superior cuisine. Tucker explained that he and Hencock had caught the bluefish earlier that day, and Skeet had brought the squash from Mercier’s farm. As for the chutney, Tucker said that he’d attended a White House dinner recently. The President had a chef who was a chutney expert, and if he liked a particular guest, he’d send them home with a few jars.

  For a moment, I felt like I was outside of myself, watching someone else have dinner with these men—one of whom was a congressman who had recently dined with the President. Who was I to be there in the first place—and who was I to even think about trying to extract secret information from such powerful individuals? I suddenly felt the weight of the task Ben and I had set for ourselves—the impossibility of it. I was on the verge of losing heart when Ben prompted me, giving me the code phrase we had practiced.

  “Cate, you mentioned earlier that you wanted to tell Skeet something,” he said.

  “Oh, that’s right!” I dabbed the corners of my mouth with my napkin and turned to Skeet. “My lawyer looked over the papers. You can let Harris know that I’ll sign them whenever he likes.” Then I cast my eyes downward. “Sorry for bringing up business at dinner…”

  “No, not at all! That’s great. Gentlemen, we’re talking about the papers that’ll make Cate official as an owner,” Skeet explained. “How long are you staying?”

  “Cate and I plan to stay until Friday,” Ben said. “The rest of our group may have to head back Thursday. We, on the other hand, have some ring shopping to do, and I know Cate wants to spend more time getting to know Mercier.”

  “Perfect,” Skeet said. “I believe Harris will be back Friday morning, so we can take care of it then.”

  “Wonderful,” I said.

  “It’s good to hear that you want to get to know Mercier better,” Hencock said. “There’s a lot going on, a lot to learn.”

  “Speaking of which,” Tucker said, “what did you think of Skeet’s little demonstration this morning?”

  Skeet winced at the phrase, “little demonstration,” but only for a second. “Yes,” he said, leaning back and clasping his hands behind h
is neck. “We talked a little bit about it immediately afterwards, but I promised we’d discuss it more later. Now’s the perfect time, and I’m very interested to hear what you thought—both of you. After all, as a sensitive and a manager of a paranormal clinic—and also as outsiders—you have unique perspectives.”

  Ben mirrored Skeet, leaning back in his chair, and rested his arm along the back of mine. He gave me an encouraging look. “You go first, Cate. What did you think?”

  I tried to channel Vani and be as charming as possible as I responded. “Well, I thought it was very impressive. Michael and Liv are so good at what they do—and Michael speaking Russian, that surprised everyone! I think our group could learn a lot from the training you’re providing to your sensitives, both at NIMH and as part of Team Forward.” I looked to Ben, who nodded. “Also, it may be because I’m new to the world of sensitives, but it had never occurred to me that our gifts could be used for anything other than treating patients. Your demonstration really opened my eyes to the possibilities.”

  Skeet rubbed his chin. “It’s not just because you’re new, Cate. Most people think of using paranormal abilities in terms of healing, treating people. The government used to be interested in potential wartime applications such as spying, but they lost faith after some poorly designed experiments in the 1970s ended badly. We’ve been able to keep our research going at NIMH, but only because a few members of Congress have championed us. They’re viewed as eccentrics, though, and as I mentioned to you last week, we have to operate outside of the public eye and under strict constraints.” He gestured toward Tucker. “Paul here has been the only one on the Hill keeping us alive at times.”

  “I do what I can,” Tucker said, “but at NIMH, Skeet will never get enough money or enough freedom to really move things forward. As usual, it’s up to private industry to make something happen.”