Evil Genius

by Rice, Patricia

  “Do I have a tracking device implanted?” I demanded. “And don’t give me that crap about working around the corner again.” I wanted to add him to my suspect list, but I could find nothing to connect him to anything except me.

  He smiled even more broadly and pushed the door handle to let me in. “I don’t think you precisely made it a secret as to where you were going. Need a ride?”

  I had made it a secret, actually. I hadn’t even told Nick where I was headed. But it didn’t take too many light bulbs for Nick or Graham to figure it out. They were the only ones who knew about EG—I thought. For all I knew, I could be standing in the company of a kidnapper.

  “I don’t carry a gun,” I informed him coldly. “I have no way of guaranteeing that you’ll take me where I want to go. So I’ll find my own transportation, thank you.”

  “Your brother said you have only a few hours to get ready for the reception. Rush hour traffic has already started. You’ll be lucky to have time to dry all that pretty hair.”

  He’d noticed my hair. Intellectually, I wasn’t impressed, but my neglected feminine ego got its thrills where it could.

  Nick had told him to where to find me. I’d introduced Sean to Nick at the Edu-Pub warehouse, and of course the nosy Irishman had made it his business to get to know my brother.

  I was trusting that was because Sean was after Graham. It wasn’t as if I had a lot of alternatives. Figuring I could escape a convertible in rush hour gridlock, I reluctantly accepted a seat. For the hell of it, I asked, “What can you tell me about my sister’s disappearance?”

  He pulled the low-slung car back into the flow of vehicles down the narrow residential street. It didn’t seem at all odd to discuss EG’s kidnapping with a perfect stranger. Obviously, he knew more about me than vice versa. Had my life not been so crazed this past week, I would have had him investigated down to his toenails.

  “The police found no bombs,” he said, revealing he knew what I was talking about. “Traffic is back to normal. EG hasn’t been heard from. Your brother is burning up phone lines trying to reach your mother. All is as sane in the Maximillian world as it ever is.”

  “Who are you?” I asked tiredly.

  “You wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said,” he pointed out.

  Which was the truth, although I didn’t know how he knew it. “Make up something I can believe then.” I desperately wanted a friend on my side right now. I might be an isolationist out of habit, but I’d take every bit of help I could get right now.

  “I’m a journalist. I don’t live too far from you. I know Mallard. It isn’t too strange that I’d be curious, is it?”

  “You’re very good at making things up, thank you.” I leaned my head against the seat and let the hot rush of air blow over me. Sean might be the sexiest man alive, but right now, my hormones were dormant and my mind was rushing ahead of traffic. He could have been a cab driver for all I cared. My paranoia was too overworked for more.

  “Marjorie Hammond is a piece of work, isn’t she?” he asked, whipping up the ramp to the highway.

  I turned my head to admire his profile. Tanned and gorgeous, he drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on the stickshift as if he’d just driven out of some fifties movie. I wanted him to be the cavalry rushing to my rescue, but for whatever reason, I trusted Graham more. It was definitely time to have my head examined again.

  “She’s no different than any of the other political wives I’ve known.”

  “Then you don’t know them well.” He dodged in and out of inbound traffic as if the highway were a Nascar track and not a parking lot. “You might spend more time learning and less time judging.”

  Shades of Graham. Now I had James Bond preaching at me. I turned my gaze back to the road, then closed my eyes as a semi loomed in the windshield. “All I want is to be left alone to do my work.” I couldn’t tell him that I’d had some strange prayer that Marjorie Hammond might be a motherly woman who would welcome EG with open arms. That was stupid even for me. Besides, he knew nothing of EG’s parentage.

  How many people did? I wondered. Would someone be trying to get at Tex through EG? That didn’t make any better sense than anything else. I couldn’t believe anyone would kill Mindy Carstairs over textbooks. How could I begin to fathom the minds of someone who would poison an invalid or kidnap a kid?

  Max had been poisoned. My grandfather had been murdered. The news was just starting to sink home. My emotions had been unused for so long that they needed time to connect.

  EG could be murdered like Max. What in hell kind of world was this?

  “You have tremendous potential that could be put to good use helping others.”

  I heard disapproval instead of laughter in Sean’s voice. Well, so much for cavalry. At least he was diverting me from hysteria. He was telling me the same thing I’d told EG, but she was the genius, not me. “I can’t even take care of my own sister,” I told him coldly. “I can’t imagine how I could help others, or why I would want to. What are you, a preacher?”

  He was silent for so long that I almost opened my eyes to see if he was still there.

  “I believe our purpose in life is to make the world a better place,” he finally responded. “And those with the most abilities should make the biggest difference.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. Well, I could, but my mind wasn’t there yet. It was on EG, wondering if she was afraid, or hungry, or plotting to burn down her hiding place.

  “Fine. I’ll improve the quality of my clientele,” I muttered. “Right after I get EG home.”

  I shouldn’t have opened my eyes.

  Sean shifted gears, crossed three lanes, and reached the off ramp in a blare of furious honking. “Your father wouldn’t approve of that attitude.”

  Frozen to the leather seat, I clenched my fingers into fists. “My father was a violent terrorist. Should I take up arms and follow his path?”

  “Brody was not a terrorist. He was practical. He forged peace agreements, persuaded terrorists to lay down arms, and when his enemies rose against him, he arranged weapons for those who needed them for self defense. He saw that the fight was equal instead of slaughter.”

  And he got himself killed for it. “Fine,” I snarled. “We should all vote with guns. That will make the world a better place. Tell me where my sister is, and maybe I’ll even listen.”

  “Women,” he snorted with disgust. “You’re all alike. You can’t see the big picture. All you’re interested in is papering the walls of your own safe homes.”

  Considering the cement walls of my basement, I could have laughed, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. “If we all stayed home and papered our walls, we wouldn’t need guns, would we?”

  “And no one would have food either. C’mon, Ana, wake up to what’s happening around us. You could make a difference. Go to that reception tonight and keep your eyes and ears open. Men like looking at you. All you have to do is flutter your lashes, and they’ll tell you their darkest secrets.”

  I did laugh then. The image of me fluttering lashes was roll-on-the-floor material. “Thank you. I needed that. Do you think Tex would tell me where EG is if I fluttered my lashes?” I didn’t tell him that I’d damned well go to that reception and twist heads until I found EG. Why did everyone—except Graham—want me to go to the reception anyway?

  “I’ll look for EG, if you’ll go in there and persuade Paul Rose and Hammond to talk to me about the monopoly in the textbook publishing industry,” Sean replied to my idiocy.

  I sat up straight so fast that I nearly rammed my head into the windshield when he pulled the car to a shuddering halt in front of the mansion.

  “How do you know about Paul Rose and textbooks?” I demanded.

  He smiled that breathtaking smile of his and reached over to push a strand of hair loosened by the wind behind my ear, brushing my cheek as he did so. “I’m a reporter, remember? The investigative sort. And you’re a perfect candidate for my partner. We co
uld make beautiful stories together.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Preparing for a reception.

  Sitting beside me in his miniscule MG, Sean O’Herlihy made me hot and cold at the same time. He was too damned close.

  I avoided studying the tan column of his throat against the casual open neck of his shirt, and I refused to test the faint traces of beard stubble on his jaw the same way he’d touched my cheek. I am very good at solitude, but I was starting not to like it when it meant turning away this kind of temptation.

  Realizing he was callously pumping me for information while my sister was in danger froze my hots quickly.

  “You should be a fantasy writer,” I replied, climbing out of the MG without his help. “I’ll find Tex and torture him until he tells me where to find EG. I’ll hand him over to you then, if that makes you feel better.”

  “You have to learn to trust someone, sometime, Ana. See you later.” He departed in a noisy roar of engine and tire.

  Depleted, I pushed the entry bell. Mallard wouldn’t leave his front door unlocked as Tex’s maid had. The door swung open on its mechanical wheel.

  I didn’t know what I expected when I returned. My bags on the doorstep, I guess. I could hope for the quiet of my office so I could plot my next action, but I didn’t expect it.

  Instead, I was greeted by Mallard carrying an hors d’oeurve tray and wearing what appeared to be gray livery and a worried frown. Nick was already halfway down the stairs and shouting at me to get my rear in gear. He had on tuxedo pants with a cummerbund but his white silk shirt was open to his waist. It’s a pity he’s not only gay, but my half brother. I’d trust his blond charm and genuine panic to Sean’s dark Irish poise any day.

  “Grab some food and get up here,” Nick shouted. “If we’re there early enough, maybe we can have Eezhee on her way to Switzerland tonight.”

  “You’re dreaming right? Or did you hit up a bank for the millions? I need to check my mailbox.” I scarfed up a handful of toasty things with mushrooms and sun-dried tomatoes on them. I’m sure they tasted delicious, but I wasn’t noticing. My mind was far from my tastebuds.

  I aimed for the library. Nick raced the rest of the way down and glared at me in frustration as I woke up the Whiz and opened my mailbox.

  The kidnapper had a different screen name from the yahoo who’d warned me off before Magda arrived—“Big Brother.” Very funny. The subject header simply said “EG.” The mailserver was Yahoo, which hosted ten bloody million accounts, including fronts for a lot of other servers. Like the earlier threat, this one would be impossible to trace without involving federal agents and a week’s time. I opened the message.

  I>For your own safety, bring your passports and London plane tickets to the Rose reception this evening. A cashier’s check for a million will suffice.

  A polite kidnapper—with an offshore bank account. Reggie? Insane but not impossible.

  “Why the reception?” I asked aloud.

  “Where’s the least likely place for a kidnapper?” Graham’s dry voice asked from the intercom. “The security will be tight. You won’t be able to carry in weapons. I have notified the authorities and purchased three plane tickets to London from Reagan International. Pack your bags and your passports and Mallard will place them in the car.”

  “And you’ll send the authorities to raid the reception?” I demanded, wondering if Graham hadn’t chosen this route to drive us out, but I heard concern in his voice, or maybe I was imagining it. I didn’t know whether to thank him or yell at him. “I’m not willing to take that chance. Besides, I don’t have EG’s passport, and we’re not going anywhere.” I’d made that decision long before I knew my grandfather had been murdered. Did he really think I’d turn my back and walk away from that news?

  I didn’t hang around waiting for his reply. “Which dress?” I asked Nick as I hurried past him for the stairs.

  “I have it laid out,” he said in relief now that I’d ignored Graham. “After you shower, let me put up your hair. We’re running out of time and you can’t go wearing that braid. If nothing else, it’s a disadvantage in a fight.” He hurried behind me, still working the studs into his shirt. “Do we want to go separately or should I stick by your side? The message didn’t say anything about going alone.”

  “They obviously know us well enough to know we belong together. It won’t fool them if we arrive separately.” How many people knew we belonged together? Graham. Magda. Sean. Had Tex figured it out? The school officials at the public school and the private school knew. Shit. A few inquiries, and the whole world could know.

  I’d seen the guest list. Thinking of all the powerful figures attending the reception, I shivered. Any of them could have made inquiries once I’d revealed my name to all and sundry. I thought I’d been clever concealing my real name, but Maximillian is as obvious as Devlin and could lead right to EG—especially if the murderer knew Max. I groaned at the thought.

  How many damned people knew about the textbook cartel? The cops knew about Edu-Pub, but chances were they hadn’t made the other connections. Hagan had to know, but mid-level government employees couldn’t afford the reception ticket. Sean would be there. And Tex. His other buddies on Edu-Pub’s board? How many others?

  “Did you find Mindy’s hard drive?” I asked before I dashed into the shower.

  “We’ve secured the drive,” the bronze statue appearing suspiciously akin to Rodin’s Striding Man said from a niche in the hallway.

  “Did you find the report?” I asked.

  “Ms. Carstairs had a history major,” the statue testified. “She reported the committee’s history textbook recommendations as seriously flawed. She listed the more egregious errors in content and was so outraged that she took it upon herself to investigate the origins of the publishers and the textbook writers. The report is an incendiary diatribe on the waste of government funds for inferior quality materials and right wing propaganda, and a condemnation of profiteering by an illegal consortium of members of congress, including the senator. I fear Ms. Carstairs held the foolish belief that government employees still possess First Amendment rights.”

  I stared at the statue in bewilderment. Maybe Graham really was insane. “You’re saying the government took her out for exercising freedom of speech?”

  “There are zealots in every fold,” he said complacently.

  I wanted to pick up the statue and fling it. He was certifiable. But then, what about a kidnapper who called himself Big Brother? That wasn’t precisely sane. It wasn’t as if civilization operated on sanity. I’d lived in the big world. Private passions and greed got things done faster than logic and common sense. I didn’t want to consider whose private passion might be creating inferior history textbooks. If there was profit to be had in it, someone would do it.

  “I told Hagan on the textbook committee that we had that report,” I said aloud. Why in hell was I talking to a statue? Because I was beginning to rely on Superman. “If he’s in any way responsible for Mindy’s or Max’s murder, could he be behind EG’s disappearance?”

  The statue didn’t reply. I figured that was ominous, and panic reared its ugly head. I didn’t have time to go upstairs and throw rocks at Graham’s computers until I had an answer.

  Nick looked as if he would burst with questions, but I waved him on and hit the shower. It had been a miserably long hot day. It would be much simpler if I could cleanse my mind as easily as the rest of me.

  Focus, I told myself as I stood in the lukewarm rain of the shower. If EG was in the hands of strangers, she would irritate them into killing her if we didn’t find her quickly. I didn’t want to think Hagan or Pao or any of the other potential baddies had her, but I had to think of the worst and work from there.

  I toweled off in the shower and stepped out to an array of perfume products Nick had left for my perusual. Why the hell not? I’d prefer an armored tank and cannon, but if perfume and cosmetics were the way the game was played in D.C. , I’d
play them to the hilt.

  Wrapped in the towel, I dabbed perfume on all my pulse points and for good measure added matching lotion all over. I knew how to do this stuff. I’d spent twenty years watching Magda, after all. Ammunition comes in all flavors.

  Nick had laid out the gauzy silk fairy dress with the layered skirts and tiny little strapped heels. I wasn’t feeling like a dainty fairy. I wanted AK-47s on both hips. I examined the other outfits, seeking an alternative.

  I yanked the little black dress off its hanger. Slinky tight and mid-thigh, this number would have eyes rolling in their sockets. I liked that idea. If I had to make a fashion statement, it would be along the lines of Don’t mess with me, Bob.

  Nick knocked and shoved his way in while I was smoothing knee-high black leather boots over my calves. I thought he’d have a stroke right then, but I ignored the steam emerging from his ears. These boots had been my choice off the sale table at Nordstroms. No flimsy little strappy heels for me, nosirree. The metal-tipped spikes on these babies sent serious dominatrix messages. I was beginning to see the advantages of good foot gear over sandals.

  “Want me to find my whip?” Nick asked with a deadliness that matched Graham’s.

  “A spiked collar would work.” Boots on, I reached to fasten diamond studs in the three holes on my left lobe. Magda had insisted I have my ears pierced when I was thirteen. I’d topped her act by letting the right lobe close up and adding holes to the left whenever I was feeling disagreeable. I normally kept plain studs in them just to keep them open. Tonight, I was going past disagreeable and aiming for mean. “I think leaving the hair down works, don’t you?”

  “I’ll drag you out by the length of it,” he growled. “Are you planning on terrifying them into handing over EG?”

  “Magda seduces her enemies,” the intercom intruded. “So naturally Anastasia terrifies them. But if you won’t listen to my advice about the airport, at least admit that heels are useless for martial arts and wearing the hair down gives an advantage to your opponent in a bare knuckle fight. If you must insist on endangering your life, have the sense to take all precautions.”