Fifth Victim (22 page)

‘They’re the kind of high-profile clients we want to attract,’ he said ruefully, then shook his head. ‘But I don’t mind admitting there’s a lot about this job makes my spine itch.’

Me, too
.

‘Hey, look on the bright side,’ I said, aiming for a light tone. ‘At least they’re not likely to haggle over the fees.’

Parker rubbed the side of his temple and gave me a weary smile. ‘You’d be amazed. These people didn’t get to be rich by letting go of their money too easy.’

I waited a beat, then asked, ‘Why didn’t you give them Torquil’s PDA?’

He let his arm drop. ‘I guess it’s partly because I don’t entirely trust them,’ he murmured, ‘and partly because I have a vested interest in making sure they don’t try and screw us around on this one.’ And there was something abruptly intense and intent in his eyes. ‘Sean’s relying on me to look out for you.’

But I remembered that last dance, the night of the charity auction, and swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable, gauche, and unable to find anything remotely useful to do with my hands. I busied them collecting up some of the discarded coffee cups from the centre table, putting them on a tray next to the coffee pot. And either because my heart or my hands were clattering, I didn’t hear Parker cross the room until he was very close behind me.

‘Have you been to see him?’ he asked.

I turned round too fast, found him too close. ‘I was going to slip over now, before I go back and take over from McGregor,’ I said. ‘Why – have you?’

‘Yesterday.’ He hesitated. ‘Charlie, I’ve been talking to the hospital, and we may have some tough decisions to make, real soon, concerning Sean—’

I held up my hands, tried to keep the desperation out of my voice. ‘Parker, I know. I do. But … does it have to be now – while we’re in the middle of all this?’

His lips twisted but there was no humour in them. ‘I seem to remember having a conversation very like this with you, one time before.’

‘I remember,’ I said softly. ‘And the same answer fits then and now – when this is over.’

Gallantly, he didn’t remind me how badly that decision had turned out. Instead, he nodded, stepped back, and I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not when he let the subject go – for the moment, anyway.

‘I don’t like the fact the kidnappers asked for you specifically,’ he said. His tone was businesslike again, but he was frowning. ‘It smacks of vendetta.’

‘If it’s the same crew who tried for Dina at the riding club, maybe I pissed them off more than I realised by getting in their way,’ I suggested.

‘But you said yourself they were amateurs,’ Parker argued. ‘Everything about this one – the timing, the fake email – speaks of professional involvement.’

‘The guy with the Taser did not look as though this was his first time out, that’s for sure.’

‘It’s unfortunate Eisenberg got rid of Torquil’s close-protection guys so fast,’ Parker said. ‘Whoever took the kid must have been watching him for days, maybe weeks beforehand. One of the team might have remembered a face, a vehicle, that didn’t seem to be an overt threat at the time, but in retrospect …?’

‘I would have sworn Dina wasn’t being watched, either, but somebody still made a play for her, even if they did make a mess of it.’

‘Seems they’ve gotten better with practice.’

‘Yeah,’ I muttered. I moved away, restless, gathered up the last of the cups. Parker lifted them out of my hands with an impatient sigh.

‘C’mon, Charlie, there is no way you are to blame for any of this,’ he said, his voice quiet but sharp, like the snapping of a twig in dry air. ‘Eisenberg’s guys let the kid go down onto the beach unprotected. You did your job, but they sure as hell didn’t do theirs. You could not have prevented Torquil being taken without leaving Dina vulnerable. For all you knew at the time, that’s exactly what the kidnappers were hoping for.’

I stepped round him and sank into one of the client chairs. ‘I know,’ I said, staring down at my hands. ‘But still …’

My train of thought trailed off as I caught sight of something pale cream stuffed down the side of the leather seat cushion. I pulled it out, found a gossamer-fine scarf that matched Nicola Eisenberg’s suit, and realised this was where she’d been sitting.

Parker raised an eyebrow, and almost on cue came a knock on the door. He called for the visitor to come in, and the door was opened by Nicola Eisenberg’s bland bodyguard. His principal walked through and gave him a meaningful nod. He stepped back outside the door and shut it again behind him.

‘Ah,’ she said, seeing the scarf dangling from my hand. ‘I see you found it.’

‘What can we do for you, Mrs Eisenberg?’ Parker asked, with no loading in his voice, but at the same time making it clear that he knew she’d engineered this excuse to return.

She had the grace to look momentarily disconcerted, but it was quickly replaced by her more familiar imperious manner.

‘I want you to keep me informed of the negotiations – separately from my husband,’ she said, taking the proffered scarf without looking at me directly, and tucking it into her handbag.

Parker gave her a calm stare. She stared back.

‘That is a somewhat unusual request,’ he said at last. ‘May I ask the reason for it?’

Her chin lifted, still haughty. ‘No, you may not.’

‘In that case, ma’am, I regret that as it’s your husband who has engaged the services of this agency, he is officially our client. I report to him. I’m sure—’

She scowled, unused to being thwarted. ‘I’m concerned he may not have my son’s best interests at heart,’ she cut in.

Parker’s eyes flicked to mine. With every appearance of innocence, I asked, ‘This wouldn’t have anything to do with Torquil’s skills as a budding … cinematographer, would it?’

‘What?’ Her response held frustrated confusion rather than outrage. ‘What are you talking about?’

Parker walked back to his desk, slid open the central drawer, and took out Torquil’s PDA. He powered it up, went through the menu, hit ‘Play’ and put the PDA down on the desktop, swivelling it round so Nicola Eisenberg had no doubts about the content of the video clip. I was relieved that he’d turned off the sound.

Watching her face, I saw recognition of the device, and from the way she leant over, squinting at the small screen, that she was too vain to admit to a need for reading glasses. Perhaps that was why it took her a moment longer than it should have done to identify the who, what, where, but if I was expecting shame, I was disappointed.

Instead, she looked rather self-satisfied, as if we were seeing her at her athletic best. I got the feeling she would have found it far more embarrassing to have been snapped without make-up, in old workout sweats, than indulging in an energetic threesome in such luxurious surroundings.

‘Well, it’s nice to see all that damned exercise pays off,’ she said, reminding me all of a sudden of Caroline Willner.

‘It would seem that your son made this recording while you were on your recent vacation in the Bahamas,’ Parker said. ‘It was sent to his PDA by remote feed, on the night of the charity auction at the country club.’

‘Ah … yes,’ Nicola Eisenberg said, as if, had he not narrowed down the precise date, she would have struggled to remember the experience among many others. Her gaze sharpened. ‘How did you get this?’

‘Torquil dropped it – yesterday morning on the beach,’ I said, and explained about the messages Parker had left in his attempts to return it. ‘Your husband didn’t ask for it, so it … slipped our mind,’ I said mildly, receiving a surreptitious wink from my boss by way of response.

‘We understand that Torquil may also have been recording your husband’s … activities on board the yacht,’ Parker said. ‘How would he react if Torquil threatened to go public with the footage?’

She laughed, a high brittle note. ‘Oh, my dear Mr Armstrong, it would never have come to that. Brandon would most likely have patted him on the head, praised his ingenuity, and given him a raise in his allowance.’

‘Really?’ Parker said. ‘And yet Mr Eisenberg seems to set such store by his … reputation.’

‘We have an understanding, my husband and I,’ she said, letting her eyes trail up and down Parker’s lean suited figure with insolent appraisal. ‘He doesn’t interfere in my life and I don’t interfere in his.’ She moved round the desk towards him, ran a predatory finger under his lapel and murmured throatily, ‘Perhaps that’s something we could discuss – say, over dinner.’

‘Mrs Eisenberg,’ Parker said easily, standing his ground, ‘right now it would seem
you
are the one who does not have your son’s best interests at heart.’

When she looked startled, I leant over and said helpfully, ‘What he means is, if you keep that up he’ll tell both you and your husband to get stuffed – you can deliver the ransom yourself.’

She threw me a vicious glare, face tightening unattractively, but snatched her hand back and whirled away.

Parker’s face remained neutral, but I saw the flat-out amusement in his eyes. He let her take three or four huffy strides towards the door.

‘When you said your husband would reward your son’s blackmail attempts, is that because he’s always done so in the past?’ he asked, coolly objective. ‘Is that why he took this kidnapping so lightly at first?’

The questions stopped her dead. She turned slowly. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Torquil has a generous allowance, but you know how kids are these days. He always wanted more.’

I thought of the elaborate and extravagant birthday party, the Bentley, the use of the family yacht and the executive jet, and wondered what ‘more’ was out there to be had.

‘So, you let him blackmail you,’ I said slowly. ‘And when his security reported that he’d been kidnapped, you assumed this was a variation on that theme.’

‘I know this looks bad.’ For the first time, she hesitated slightly. ‘We can’t afford for the media to get a hold of the story,’ she added, flattening any hopes I might have had that this was a sign of surfacing maternal instinct.

‘We are not in the habit of revealing details of our clients’ private lives,’ Parker said stiffly, more insulted by that, I think, than by the pass she’d made at him. ‘Unless they’re engaged in illegal activities, we’ll protect them any way we can.’

She paused at that, shifted her stance. ‘May I be totally honest with you, Mr Armstrong?’

I doubt she knows how
. I didn’t say the words out loud, but from the look on Parker’s face, I didn’t have to.

He inclined his head politely. ‘Of course.’

She took a breath, flicked her hair back, then said baldly, ‘I am not convinced that my husband will go the extra mile to ensure my son’s safe return. I want to be kept appraised of the situation so I can … step in, if I see the need. Whether you believe me or not, I
do
have my son’s best interests at heart. Like I said, I’m not convinced Brandon feels the same way.’

‘He said he hates giving in to threats – is that all there is to it?’ Parker asked, hitching his hip onto the corner of his desk and folding his arms. ‘Or does he have financial problems?’

She laughed at that. ‘Oh, no, Mr Armstrong. His only
problem
is that he really doesn’t want to give it away to a bunch of crooks. Not for—’

She broke off suddenly. Honesty, it seemed, only went so far. The lines around her mouth deepened as she frowned.

‘Not for what?’ Parker asked. He sighed. ‘Mrs Eisenberg, you’re asking my operative to risk her life making this ransom drop for you. I’m willing to let her do that, but only if you level with us,’ he said, his voice gentle, persuasive. ‘If you know something that affects how far your husband – or you – are prepared to go to ensure your son’s safety, we need to know, and we need to know right now.’

She brought her chin up, arrogant, defiant. ‘Torquil is not my husband’s son,’ she said. ‘He wanted an heir but couldn’t give me a child, so I made … alternative arrangements.’ She waited, furious, for our condemnation. When we stayed silent, she went on, clear and bitter, ‘And knowing it would not be his genes that carried on, he had that damned necklace commissioned in a bid for immortality – the Eisenberg Rainbow.’ Her lips twisted, derisive over the name. ‘Let’s just say, given a straight choice between that and Torquil, Brandon wouldn’t be heartbroken if he ended up with the jewels.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Two hours later, just as I was leaving the rehab centre, my cellphone buzzed in the inside pocket of my leather jacket. As I pulled it out, I checked the display and saw the number for Parker’s office line.

‘Boss,’ I said, hanging my bike helmet on the mirror of the Buell while I dug for my keys. ‘Any news?’

‘Our new clients are fools of the highest order,’ he said, and even filtered through layers of traffic in the background and the deficiencies of the phone’s tiny speaker, I heard the anger tightly compressed into his voice.

I stilled, a cold pool forming at the base of my skull.

‘What have they done?’

‘The … vendors just called them about the sale,’ Parker said, knowing I would catch exactly what he meant and highly sensitive to electronic eavesdropping on an open line. We could have been talking about anything from property to shares in a racehorse. ‘They agreed to pay the asking price.’

‘Shit,’ I muttered. ‘In full? Just like that?’

‘Apparently, things got a little heated during the negotiations, and there was some screaming and shouting down the phone,’ Parker said in a matter-of-fact tone that made all the hairs riffle along my arms. I could guess exactly what kind of screaming he was talking about. ‘They reckoned they couldn’t afford to lose the sale, so … they caved.’

‘That’s … unfortunate,’ I said, struggling to stick to the same neutral language. Completely on autopilot, I stuck the Buell’s key in the ignition, turned it far enough to release the steering lock. ‘Where does it leave us?’

He sighed. ‘They went directly against my advice, Charlie, and put the whole deal in mortal jeopardy. I had no choice but to withdraw the agency’s services.’ I heard the forced lightness in his voice. ‘Can’t win ’em all, I guess.’

‘Oh,’ I murmured.
Mortal jeopardy
. Not words chosen lightly, I knew, and I could feel his anger and anguish at the risks they were taking with Torquil’s life.