“Hey, kid. Mr. Boise said he’ll take us home. Hop in.” One of the things I don’t lack is leadership qualities. I come from a long line of people who took command. I’d been trying not to imitate my ancestors, but what the heck.
Not cracking a smile, the chauffeur opened the door and gestured the kids into the back. I opened the front door and made myself at home in the passenger seat. The tan leather fit like a kid glove, the gold-plated fixtures gleamed like new, and a white rose adorned the interior vase. Mr. Boise kept his car sharp.
“Have you worked for the senator for long?” I inquired after the driver pulled away from the school. Maybe if I forgot Max and Graham and Pao, I could concentrate on Tex. Not likely, but it was a better diversion than thinking envelopes-poison and tearing up like a girl.
“I’ve worked for the senator almost ten years,” Boise replied without inflection as he scanned the busy street.
We were stopped at a red light, so he really didn’t need to concentrate on traffic. I wondered what he was watching for. Had the senator, perchance, received threatening messages recently? Maybe nasty e-mails were making the rounds. Had I endangered EG by putting her in her father’s car? Or had my normal paranoia escalated with recent events?
I saw nothing more out the windshield than the usual steamy D.C. streets, hordes of tourists with maps in front of their faces, and locals hurrying for their favorite mode of transportation. People did not linger on hot sidewalks in the smoggy glare of the sun.
The light changed and we rolled away from the intersection. I tried not to sigh in relief. “Ten years? Before or after he came back from Spain?” I asked, not at all innocently. The senator hadn’t been a senator when he returned from Spain, but a recalled ambassador. Why would he need a chauffeur? Or a bodyguard, if that’s what Boise was?
“After,” Boise replied curtly, obviously with no intention of explaining. His mouth suddenly tightened into a grim line. I glanced out the windshield just before I heard a squeal of brakes and watched a black Lincoln with tinted windows pull across the narrow street we’d turned down.
A hail of gunfire rattled the street signs.
Without a word, Boise swung the long hood of the lovely car into a narrow alley, hit the gas, and ramming garbage cans, spewing trash left and right, accelerated through a dead end beneath a railroad bridge.
Chapter Nineteen
Ana’s wild ride; Tex talks; Graham admits to knowing Max.
Fingernails digging into the leather seat, I didn’t say another word as Boise whipped past concrete barriers, bounced through potholes, and raced up gravel construction ramps to a main highway. Maybe I’d been a little young to recognize the expertise of some of the drivers who had chauffeured Magda around, but I was old enough now to fully grasp Boise’s ability. To pull this off, he had to have memorized escape routes all over the city.
The burning question was—Why?
I didn’t ask it as we sped down the interstate. I didn’t inquire when he pulled off the highway into a residential area of Georgetown. Elsie was weeping uncontrollably. EG was white-faced and tense, but a quick glance told me she wasn’t injured. I wasn’t even certain if the gunmen had succeeded in pocking the pretty car with bullet holes or if they’d just beaten up stop signs. My brain had quit functioning with the first shots.
“Wait here,” Boise ordered as he whipped into a private drive and switched off the ignition.
He had my respect. I waited, shivering with shock, still not quite believing real men had shot real bullets at us. After the morning I’d had, I should have, but I’d been thinking Magda’s world didn’t apply to me. We watched silently as Boise helped Elsie out of the car and led her into the house.
Seeing this scene through EG’s eyes, I could feel my own heart breaking as the pampered daughter received the attention that EG never would. So much for respect. I threw open the door and climbed into the back seat with my sister.
As mentioned, we weren’t much on hugging, but when I put an arm around her shoulder, she fell against me and shuddered with silent sobs. She was so damned small and helpless.
I rocked her and tried to pretend she was merely venting fear after a terrifying incident, but I knew she was the same seething mass of emotions as I was. I didn’t know how to make her world right. Kicking someone wouldn’t help, and neither would crying along with her.
When the man responsible for this volcanic pressure appeared in company with Boise, I almost blew the lid off the car. I sat EG upright, leaped out, and rammed my fist against the roof of the Pierce-Arrow. I pack a punch powerful enough to dent it, but I wasn’t looking at the car.
“What the hell are you involved in that requires assassination attempts?” I yelled, not very sensibly. I do better with physical reactions than verbal.
“Ah have enemies,” Tex said calmly, although he looked almost as pale as EG beneath his tan. “Get back in the car. We’ll take you home.”
“This car is a moving target! Thank you, but I think we’ll take the Metro.” I waited for EG to climb out, but she was gazing hungrily at the man who had ignored her all her life.
His hokey drawl slipped into clipped, curt tones. “Did you think I would endanger my daughter? This car has been armored against attack, as my enemies now know. Get in. Your mother has already been notified, and she’s waiting for you.”
Oh shit. I was already plotting my return to Atlanta when I climbed in on one side of EG while Tex climbed in on the other. I am lousy at this parenting thing. Neither Tex nor Magda would have bullied their way into a car that was a moving target for killers.
Generally, people didn’t shoot at me. If they shot at Tex often enough to require an armored car, then I needed to get my head straight. EG didn’t belong with him either.
“Ah have found an excellent school for the gifted in Switzerland,” Tex said stiffly as Boise backed the car out of the drive. “Your mother says she will be residing in Switzerland shortly. We think it best if Elizabeth returns with her.”
That would certainly take care of flying bullets. It also meant Magda and Tex were currently speaking to each other. Oh, to be a fly on the wall…
EG slid her small hand behind the bulging backpack on the seat between us. She looked tiny next to Tex’s imposingly broad figure. He wasn’t looking at her. I wanted to punch him just for that. I reached behind her backpack and pressed her fingers into mine. The connection helped me regain some form of control.
“You and Magda think a Swiss school is best for yourselves. I don’t suppose it occurred to you to ask what EG thinks is best for her?” I asked calmly.
He finally turned to glare at me, but EG was between us. His gaze inadvertently fell on her. She was sitting stiffly, staring straight ahead as Boise navigated D.C. streets to return us home. Tex’s tight-lipped expression softened as he studied this daughter he didn’t know, and again, for just a moment, I almost liked him. That feeling seldom lasted, and he didn’t disappoint now.
He shook his head. “You have seen the danger of remaining here. This is a very bad time to be exposed to D.C.”
“Why is that?” I demanded. “What have you done that requires bodyguards?”
His suave expression froze. “That is not your concern.”
EG squeezed my hand, reminding me that going ballistic wouldn’t get my questions answered. I needed to put my nonexistent social skills together with my brains. I needed to be Magda. Scowling, I kept my voice patient. “It’s my concern when my sister gets shot at. Can I expect the school to be fired upon next?”
“Not if she’s in Switzerland,” he replied stiffly.
I really needed to kick him into next week. Not having the leverage for that, I tried a verbal slap. “Is that because the gang behind Edu-Pub doesn’t have henchmen in Switzerland?”
His shocked silence told me more than he realized. Tex knew about Edu-Pub.
“You’re worse than Magda,” he finally said, with not a little horror.
First I’
d heard of it, but I shrugged off the news. “If you’d learn who your friends are and who they aren’t, you’d be a happier man.”
Back on ground he understood, Tex chuckled grimly. “Read Machiavelli and tell me that again. A man in power has no friends.”
“I’ve read Machiavelli. I’ve already figured you’ve sold your soul to the devil, probably when you were in Spain.” I was guessing wildly here, calling on basic instincts learned at my mother’s knee. “Your new friends got you elected, helped you out. They scratched your back, you scratched theirs, yadda yadda. But now they want something you aren’t prepared to give, so they’re warning you off by crippling your ability to act. How hot am I?”
“I don’t even know you,” he said crankily. “Talk to your mother. She probably knows more than I do.”
We were approaching the house. I didn’t have much time left for answers. “Magda has the sense to pretend she’s powerless. No one’s gunning for her.”
“Well, they ought to be.” Tex glared as the car rolled to a stop. “And if you’ve guessed that much, you’re smart enough to realize EG is safer in Switzerland.”
I felt as if every occupant of the car froze in anticipation of my reply, especially EG.
Tex was offering to pay for the expensive schooling her genius required. Magda was offering to move closer to the school so she could provide a home. They were giving me the opportunity to walk away not only with a clear conscience, but nobly, to protect my sister.
EG desperately wanted to be wanted, and she hung onto every word.
To my eternal shock, I heard myself reply, “Security comes with a home and a family. If EG is tired of being tossed from nanny to school and back, I’ll dare what you won’t. She will always have a home with me if she wants. It’s her choice.”
Considering the glance EG shot me, I had just been elevated to sainthood. I was officially as crazy as the rest of my family.
“We’re her parents. Ah don’t think you have the right to offer that choice,” Tex replied stiffly as the car idled.
“Are you going to stand in front of a court and admit you are her father if I choose to fight you on this?” I asked, hiding my evil smirk.
That silenced him. He glanced down at EG. She crossed her arms and refused to look at him. Tex wasn’t a persuasive politician for nothing. He tried again, talking to EG and ignoring the fly in his ointment. “You’ll like this school. I’ll teach you to ski in the Alps.”
Dirty pool. EG’s eyes lit like emerald fires. She gazed up at him with all of a child’s eagerness for love. But then her genius radar kicked in, and she saw the emptiness behind the promise. “You won’t win the next election,” she informed him coolly.
I love EG. She knows how to go straight to the heart. I have no idea if she was prognosticating or simply telling him that he’d lose if he recognized her, and I didn’t care. Tex’s appalled expression was worth all the fury and fear I’d suffered this past hour.
I figured we might as well blow up our bridges while we were at it. I climbed out to let EG run into the house, and then I leaned back in. “By the way, just as a matter of courtesy, did you know that Edu-Pub not only funnels cash into Paul Rose’s campaign, but it is quite likely laundering money for a radical Indonesian religious organization as well? You might wish to question your definition of terrorists.”
I slammed the Pierce-Arrow’s door and followed EG inside without looking back. I had a funny feeling I’d just declared war.
“Where’s Magda?” I demanded of Mallard the instant we entered the house.
EG had run past Mallard and up the stairs without a word. I daresay both of us were still wide-eyed in shock. But a slow-burning anger had replaced my fear. I didn’t think it was a coincidence that the senator’s car had been shot at on the same day as Magda had arrived home. It was quite possible the men behind the shots knew Magda’s interfering ways too well.
“She is with Mr. Graham,” he said stiffly. “They are not to be disturbed.” He blocked my path to the stairs.
Oh yeah, that was gonna work well. In my checkered past I’d learned one or two tricks to slip past intrepid guardians. I had an entertaining array to choose from, but I was furious and I wanted it fast. Out of respect for Mallard, I didn’t use my kickboxing moves. I played on his weakness instead. I bent over at the waist and moaned as if I was dying.
The instant Mallard stepped uncertainly toward me, I dodged past him, still bent double so he couldn’t get a good grasp on me. I was up the stairs faster than he could follow.
Graham must have been keeping his eye on the monitors. Magda was already on her way down the attic stairs before I reached them. I cast a glance above. Graham’s door was closed.
“I’m damned tired of being kept in the dark like a two-year old!” I shouted. Okay, I had a tantrum like a two-year old. But if that was the only level we could meet on, I used it. “I want explanations.”
“Of what, dear?” Magda asked coolly, treading down the stairs as if she were in a ballroom. She had to be aware Graham was watching.
“Why did Tex leave Spain and hire bodyguards? Why is he being framed for murder? Who is shooting at him?” I thought I heard EG’s door open, but she was smarter than me and ought to hear these answers, too.
“I think those questions ought to be directed at Tex, don’t you? Is EG packing her bags? I can take her with me.”
EG’s door slammed and the key turned in its lock.
Magda and I had a face off. She narrowed her eyes and waited for me to tell EG to pack. I crossed my arms and smiled.
“I’m not two, remember?” I said more quietly this time. “She wants a home, not a boarding school. She wants family, not servants. Did Graham invite you to stay?”
Magda sighed and brushed past me, aiming for the guest room. “Ana, you are intelligent enough to understand that there are some things you’re better off not knowing.”
“So we should all remain homeless, ignorant, and unhappy? Sorry. I’m not buying that any longer.” I followed her down the hall to Max’s room. Mallard was nowhere in sight.
“No, I don’t want that either,” she said with a sigh, allowing me in and closing the door. “If you could take EG back to Atlanta with you, stay out of DC and politics, you might have a chance at what you want.”
It was one crossroad after another today. I was in danger of getting lost in the maze of choices. “If that’s what EG wants, I might consider it,” I said carefully, not really meaning it but willing to consider a compromise. “But Max meant for us to have this house. He wouldn’t have left it to us if he thought we would stay away.” I didn’t know where that thought had come from when I’d been planning on moving out, but I liked the sound of it.
She folded up the last of the clothing on the made-up bed and placed it neatly into her carry-on. Magda was nothing if not an expert suitcase packer, but in this case, she was stalling. I’d finally stymied my mother in an argument.
“Max knew it wasn’t safe here for you, not while he was still playing games. Perhaps he thought he would clear the playing field before he died. But the field isn’t clear. It’s not safe, and Graham owns the house.” She slammed the suitcase closed. “You’ve been here a week, and you’re already in danger.”
She looked up and glared at me. Magda didn’t do glares unless she was out of ammunition. I refused to cringe.
“Graham should never have let you inside this house,” she said furiously.
Ah, now we were getting somewhere. “Was it you or Graham who arranged to have Reggie abscond with our money?” I asked.
“If I’d known Reggie’s father was dead, I would have arranged it, although I’d certainly not let the little snot escape justice. Reggie got in over his little cokehead, and Graham grabbed the house before Reggie sold it elsewhere. Graham is another reason you need to leave. He’s worse than Max.”
Magda was finally talking to me as if I might be a grown-up. I had a dozen more questions and a few comments
of my own buzzing around in my head—including wondering if Max might have wanted us to finish the job he’d left undone—when the gold-filigree dresser mirror chose to intrude.
“That’s a matter of opinion, Magda,” it said in a deep, recognizable voice. “This house is far safer than many other places I can name.”
My eyebrows shot to my hairline. Graham was defending us?
“Graham is worse than Max and Brody together,” Magda warned. “Go back to your basement, take EG if you must. But forget the family business. You’ll be much happier.”
The family business? And what, precisely, was that?
She swept out without explaining, calling up the stairs as she headed toward the door. “EG, darling, my limo awaits. I’ll send tickets so Ana can accompany you to Switzerland, if you like. Give me a kiss?”
Silence greeted her. Her smile looked almost sad as she turned it in my direction. “I know you have to be a princess of your own story someday, but be a better one than I am.”
With Mallard holding the door for her, she gracefully swayed out on three-inch heels. Mallard picked up her suitcase and followed. Some day, I would really like to understand what made Magda tick.
In the meantime, I had to vent my confusion before I could proceed to the next step of whatever I’d just committed myself to.
The door to Graham’s office was closed as I charged up to the third floor. I wanted to barge in and spew more questions, but I wasn’t operating on rational. I aimed for the gym.
I sneezed as I traversed the hallway and glared at the room where I’d last seen the cat. He hadn’t trespassed on my territory lately, so I couldn’t complain when I trespassed on his. I escaped through the door into the gym.
Tears mingled with the sweat running down my face by the time I unleashed all my conflicting emotions into the bags and collapsed on the mat to do a few cooling-down exercises. My mother might have caused my father’s death. My grandfather had mentored Graham instead of his grandchildren. My grandfather might have been poisoned. EG had nearly been killed today because of my obnoxiousness. And I had just pretended I would make a better parent than Magda. It had been a very bad day.
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