Did she want to?
She suspected she already knew the answer to that but didn’t have time to separate thought from emotion right now. Her tight, controlled energy was mounting by the moment in anticipation of the sporting event to come.
She left the bedroom and glanced into the other two upstairs rooms on her way to the stairs. One doubled as a guest room and office. The other housed a universal gym with an impressive collection of weights and bars and pulleys.
Downstairs, she followed the tantalizing scent of fresh-brewed coffee through a living and dining room. She found Luke in a starkly utilitarian kitchen. He’d pulled on a set of gray sweats and was wielding a spatula like someone who knew how to use it.
“Help yourself,” he said, indicating the coffeemaker with a jerk of his chin. “You still restrict yourself to a high-carb meal before competitive events?”
Surprised he remembered after so many years, she nodded and poured life-giving caffeine into a mug. Although golf didn’t require the same vigorous energy as steering a kayak through a roaring white-water, Dayna’s training regimen went bone-deep.
“We have buckwheat pancakes,” Luke informed her. “We have toasted bagels. We have cereal and whole milk. I think there’s some instant oatmeal in the cupboard if you’d prefer that.”
“Pancakes and a bagel are more than enough.”
“Here you go, then.”
Filling plates for her and for himself, he claimed the stool beside hers.
Luke didn’t press her for conversation as they ate. He’d shared preevent hours with her before and knew Dayna always narrowed her focus before a major competition. The woman possessed an uncanny ability to tune out everything but the challenge ahead. Most of the time, he’d been okay with that. Looking back, he could chalk up to basic immaturity those few occasions when he’d felt excluded or left behind.
Or was it a reluctance to share center stage in Dayna’s life?
Her Olympic dreams had consumed her then, just as his pilot training had demanded all his time and energy. After her coach had called to warn him that Dayna was putting her spot on the Olympic team in jeopardy with her cross-country commuting, Luke believed he’d done right by suggesting they cool things for a while.
Now, he had to wonder whether the suggestion stemmed from a noble desire to see her achieve her goals. Or had there been something less gallant at work? Something small and self-centered, like the realization that he didn’t constitute the center of her universe?
If that was part of it—and Luke wasn’t ready to admit it was—he’d sure as hell learned his lesson. All he had to do was look at the woman next to him, see her lost in contemplation as she licked a drop of syrup from the corner of her mouth, and know he’d take whatever part of her she wanted to share with him.
This wasn’t the time to tell her so, however. She was already in her zone, already centering on the task ahead with the same single-minded concentration he brought to his preflight mission prep.
“Ready?” he asked when she’d forked down the last of her pancakes.
Blinking, she exited her private space. “I am. Let’s do it.”
The companionable silence at breakfast proved the last calm before the storm.
As they drove across the stone bridge linking Leuchars and St. Andrews, Dayna could feel her pulse picking up speed and her muscles coiling. The tournament wouldn’t win her a title or trophy or a big purse, but cameras would pick up every nuance of her mood, as well as her swing. So would Wu Kim Li. If Dayna and her team were going to pull off the Wus’ defection, she had to remain cool and in control.
She managed both through the bustle of a quick shower and change at the hotel followed by a hurried meeting with Hawk and Jilly. After that, she joined her foursome at the clubhouse for a pregame media conference.
Because of their low scores on the initial rounds, Dayna and her partner had the honor of teeing off last, in the same group as Kim Li. The Korean was paired with Joan Ryson-Smith, a tall, lanky South-African amateur who’d inherited millions and played a wicked game of golf. Dayna’s partner was the top female money winner on the British women’s circuit, Allison Kendall. Short, wiry-haired and intense, Kendall made quick work of the media conference and disappeared to warm up on the driving range. Ryson-Smith watched with amusement as Kim Li hogged the cameras.
That was fine with Dayna. She needed to hit a few buckets, too. Excusing herself, she left the Korean and South African to the limelight and took a short cut through the women’s locker room to the club storage facility.
The cavernous, carpeted-and-paneled facility normally buzzed with activity as attendants cleaned clubs, polished shoes and tagged bags before tucking them in their assigned stalls. The caddies, too, usually hung out there while waiting for their players to show and call for their equipment.
With all but the last few foursomes already on the links, most of the stalls were empty. Strange, though, that no attendant manned the front counter. Nor, Dayna saw with a sudden skip of her pulse, were any caddies milling around inside.
That thought had barely registered when a bulky, unmistakable figure emerged from the stall containing Dayna’s bag and froze.
The plastic water bottle gripped in sumo-mama’s fist carried the Royal and Ancient Clubhouse’s distinctive logo…as did the towels, extra sleeves of balls and two additional water bottles sitting next to Dayna’s bag. One of those bottles, she noted with a swift narrowing of her eyes, was still filmed with moisture from the cooler. The dew on the other showcased a very distinctive set of fingerprints.
The evidence was unmistakable. Sumo-Mama had dipped into her bag of tricks again.
Enough was enough, Dayna thought with a spear of cold, lethal fury. The woman was going down. Quietly. Unobtrusively. With no one, including Wu Kim Li and her other watchdogs, any the wiser.
“What did you do?” Dayna asked softly, rounding the counter. “Exchange that bottle for one spiked with essence of orchid?”
Recovering from her frozen surprise, the masseuse tried to bluff it out. She shook her head, as if to indicate she didn’t understand, and waddled toward the exit. Dayna sidestepped into her path.
“You’re not going anywhere, lady.”
A gleam of pure malice lit the other woman’s eyes. “You stop me?”
“So you do understand English?”
“I understand.” Her lip curled. “You move now.”
“I don’t think so.”
Rolling her massive shoulders, the masseuse flexed her arms. She had to weigh a good three-ten or twenty.
“You move, or I crush you.”
“Maybe.” Smiling coldly, Dayna went up on her toes and balled her fists. “Maybe not.”
The ruse worked. Thinking her opponent really intended to duke it out, the other woman smiled in vicious delight, lowered her head and charged.
As nimble as a matador, Dayna danced away and whipped up her arms. She slammed her locked fists down on the back of the woman’s neck. The shock reverberated all the way from her wrists to her shoulders.
The karate chop should have brought sumo-mama to her knees. It barely checked her stride. When she turned to charge again, Dayna experienced a decided uh-oh moment.
“You gnat,” the masseuse taunted, breathing heavily through her mouth. “I squash you.”
Dayna had nowhere to go but into the stall behind her. Her gaze never left the other woman’s face as she backed up the few steps. The Korean sneered, lowered her head and charged.
In a swift economy of movement, Dayna plucked the supercharged eight-iron from her golf bag and swung. The clubhead cracked against the Korean’s skull. Staggering, the woman grunted once and went down like a felled ox.
“You’re lucky I didn’t use my driver,” Dayna huffed as she tucked the eight-iron under her arm and signaled Hawk. “I’m in the club-storage facility. I need you to dispose of something for me. Better bring Luke,” she advised, eyeing sumo-mama’s massive bulk.
Keeping a careful eye on the Korean, Dayna searched the other stalls. She wasn’t surprised when she found an attendant lying in a crumpled heap. A quick check of his pulse indicated he was alive, but out cold.
Returning to the stall containing her golf bag, Dayna eyed the water bottles thoughtfully. They were capped with plastic tips, the kind you had to pull up before you could squeeze out a squirt of water.
“Perfect.”
Planting her butt on the floor, she braced her back against the wall and used both feet to roll sumo-mama over. Groaning, the woman flopped onto her back. Dayna had the water bottle inserted between the Korean’s jaws before her lids fluttered up. When the woman saw her opponent poised over her, she jerked convulsively.
“I wouldn’t jump around too much,” Dayna advised. “Unless you want me to give this bottle a little squeeze.”
“Wha…?” Gasping, the masseuse struggled to get her tongue around the spout protruding into her mouth. “Wha’ ’ou want?”
“Some answers.”
“I know nos-sing!”
“I’m guessing you know how that orchid extract got into the champagne delivered to my room.”
“No! No! I…Ay, ah!”
Her brows raised in polite disbelief, Dayna rattled the tip of the bottle against the woman’s teeth. When she had her complete attention, she smiled.
“Let’s start again, shall we? Why did you try to poison me?”
“Kim Li. She…She…”
“Kim Li what?”
Almost cross-eyed, the masseuse kept her desperate gaze on the bottle wedged between her gaping jaws.
“She—She tell us you say bad things to her.”
“What things?”
“You tell her to leave…Korea. Tell her to…be traitor to her country.”
Dayna gave no indication that the impetus to leave their native land had originated with the Wus, not the other way around. Instead, she played the heavy.
“Kim Li would make millions in America. Break into the movies if she wanted to. We can make her the international superstar she should be.”
“Money no matter. Kim Li never leave Korea. Never leave mother.”
Tight-jawed, Dayna jammed the bottle almost to the woman’s tonsils. “Her mother’s dead.”
“No!” the masseuse got out between gagging gurgles. “Mother alive. Held by government.”
“So you made the girl choose between her mother and her father? He skips, she stays.”
“Dr. Wu no traitor! Just—Just pretend. Learn secrets. Bring back to Korea. Return to wife.”
So neither of the Wus had really intended to defect. The realization that they’d played Dayna and Hawk like twin accordions made her ache to give the bottle’s plastic sides a teensy-weensy little squeeze.
“Rogue! What’s going on?”
Hawk rushed into the storage facility. With a twinge of real regret, Dayna sat back on her heels. The stall was cramped enough with just her and sumo-mama. When Hawk, Luke and Jilly crowded in, she barely had breathing room.
“This is Kim Li’s masseuse. She didn’t care for my attempts to proselytize her protégée and decided to flavor my drink. Again.”
Extracting the water bottle from the woman’s mouth, Dayna tipped it upright. The plastic cap was still firmly in place.
When the Korean realized she’d never been in danger of swallowing any of the tainted liquid, she gave a bellow of pure rage.
“You lie!” Her bulk heaving, she struggled upright. “You lie like dog.”
Dayna tossed the bottle into her other hand, hefted the eight-iron again and swung. The woman dropped like a stone.
Jilly’s blue eyes rounded. “You don’t mess around, do you?”
“Not with someone who tried to poison me.” Swiftly, she related the gist of the masseuse’s revelations. “Here, Hawk. Have the lab analyze this water. I think it’ll provide sufficient justification for the Brits to keep sumo-mama on ice until the tournament’s over.”
“What do we gain by keeping her on ice? From what you just told us, neither Kim Li nor her father wants to come over to our side.”
“The Wus don’t know we know that.” Dayna bit her lip, trying to sort things out in her head. “And we don’t know for sure Kim Li’s mother is still alive. All we have is mama-san’s word for that. We need to get hold of Lightning and see what our people in Asia can ferret out about Madam Wu.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Jilly volunteered. “I have a few contacts in Asia that might prove useful.”
With that piece of the puzzle taken care of, Dayna mulled over the outrageous plan taking shape in her head. Her glance zinged to Luke.
“Dr. Wu’s mission is to ferret out America’s nuclear secrets,” she said slowly. “What do you think? Could we feed him some?”
“Depends on what you have in mind.”
“We’re taking him to the base for transport. What if he saw some things he wasn’t supposed to? Some things that might give him and his pals a false idea about our own nuclear-weapons program?”
“You mean, we should feed him deliberately erroneous information about the B-2?”
“Something like that?”
“It might work.” His brows slashing, he considered the possibilities. “Hell, we’ll make it work.”
“You guys discuss it while you haul sumo-mama’s carcass out of here. I’ve got to hustle to make my tee time. Oh, and check the bag boy in the stall over there. I think he’s okay, but I suspect he’ll have the mother of all headaches when he wakes up.”
Adrenaline surging, Dayna hooked the strap of her golf bag over her shoulder. Its familiar weight bumped against her hip as she exited the storage facility into the bright, sunlit morning.
The other three had already gathered in the hot zone with their caddies, awaiting the call to the first tee. Dayna’s partner looked relieved to see her. Kim Li’s partner smiled a greeting. The Korean, however, scowled and sliced her driver back and forth across the grass.
“You late.”
Was she aware of her muscle-bound masseuse’s plans to spike the water bottle? If so, she hid it well behind a mask of pouty impatience.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Dayna said easily. “Anyone know what happened to my caddie?”
Kim Li raised her driver and stabbed it at the short, bowlegged Scot hurrying toward them. “He’s there.”
The bandy-legged local huffed up. Pouring out apologies, he identified himself as Angus MacDougall as he relieved her of her bag.
“I’m verra sorry, Ms. Duncan. They told me you were waiting for me at the clubhouse. I don’t know how the signals got so crossed.”
She had a good idea. Hawk and Luke were no doubt piling the crossee into a golf cart as they spoke.
“No problem,” she said, smiling to put him at ease.
Clearly upset, he hoisted her bag over his shoulder. “I hope this doesna throw you off your game.”
“It won’t.”
The utter confidence in her reply deepened Kim Li’s scowl. Notoriously temperamental and impatient before a game, Tigress Wu didn’t handle delays or miscues well.
“They call us to the tee. We play now.”
Chapter 14
The suspicion that Wu Kim Li didn’t really intend to skip to the States freed Dayna from the necessity of catering to the girl’s ego on and off the links.
A sizzling, crackling energy coursed through Dayna’s veins as she waited her turn on the first hole. Off to her left, the ancient buildings and chimneys of St. Andrews looked down on the course. To her right, the leaden waters of St. Andrews Bay lapped at marshy shores.
Dead ahead lay the Old Course, with its savage gorse, monster double greens and one hundred and twelve bunkers that included the infamous Hell on the fourteenth hole, Strath on number eleven and the Road Bunker on number seventeen—probably the most famous hole in all golf.
The first hole was three hundred and thirty-nine yards of flat, barren fairway. Flat, that is,
until the Swilcan Burn, an undulating loop that guarded the front edge of the green. Joan teed off first, whacking her ball far right and dangerously close to out-of-bounds.
Kim Li clicked her tongue at her partner’s inauspicious start. The Korean was dressed in black today. Her slacks, stretchy turtleneck, windbreaker and visor were all in sleek ebony that prominently displayed her sponsor’s logo done in gleaming gold.
Ignoring her caddy’s offer of assistance in reading the fairway slope, she teed up and took a couple of practice swings before exploding in a perfect fusion of grace and power.
“Nice shot,” Dayna commented, exchanging places with the girl.
They couldn’t have made more of contrast, she thought as she loosened up with a practice swing. Small, delicate Kim Li with her black hair, black eyes and black uniform. Dayna, taller, blond, wearing the bright colors she preferred—glowing, jewel-toned amethyst slacks and windbreaker, a white silk turtleneck, a ball cap studded with iridescent spangles.
Their stance and swings were almost identical, though. Feet spread to shoulder width. Ball forward. Slow and steady on the backswing. Rocket speed and power on the downswing. All weight on the left foot at the finish.
A roar from the gallery signaled their approval when Dayna’s drive rolled to a stop just left of the fairway’s center, mere inches from Kim Li’s.
“Yes!”
The normally reserved and intense Allison Kendall gave her partner a high five and stepped onto the tee box. She, too, powered her drive.
The chase was on.
It took the foursome just a little over two hours to reach the midpoint of the match. Dayna and Allison both posted a two-under par at the turn. Kim Li came in at a blazing four under. Since her partner’s handicap was three strokes higher than Dayna’s, Wu and Ryson-Smith had a solid lead.
Not for long, Dayna vowed while she waited her turn on number ten. Hands crossed on the rubber grip of her driver, she searched the gallery.
She’d spotted Dr. Wu earlier. Bundled against the breeze in plaid Burberry scarf and jacket, he’d followed Kim Li’s foursome from hole to hole. Two of his countrymen stuck close to his elbow.
Match Play Page 13