Impulse (45 page)

There was silence, and Merkel raised his hand to knock on the door, only to lower it again when DeLorio said in a low, vicious voice, “You can’t pretend anymore that Grandfather gave me a pat on the head and two quarters. He left me millions. More than millions. All for me, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I called Goldstein in Chicago. Yes, I found his
phone number in your private book. He told me everything. And you had my mother killed, didn’t you? You lied to me!”

Mr. Giovanni, his voice smooth and deadly: “Listen to me, boy, your mother died in an accident. I had nothing to do with it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m your father, I rescued you from her. I also know about that girl you hurt in New York.”

Merkel could practically see DeLorio turn white. His voice was suddenly shrill and high and scared. He didn’t sound like a millionaire anymore. “She didn’t die, I didn’t really hurt her. She’s fine now, not dead like my mother.”

“No? Physical abuse and rape are frowned upon, you know, DeLorio.”

DeLorio’s voice was even thinner now. “Mother told me, she swore to me she’d never tell. She took care of it, she told me she did—and she never lied to me!—she paid off that girl’s father, she’s still paying him off. Except she can’t now, can she, because you killed her.”

“No, DeLorio, I told you, but I’ll tell you again. Your mother’s death was an accident.”

Merkel backed away. He didn’t want to hear any more. He turned around and saw Link standing only two feet away. From the look on Link’s face, Merkel knew he’d heard it all as well.

“I don’t want to stay here,” Merkel said, and turned on his heel. He wasn’t surprised that Mr. Giovanni knew about a girl DeLorio had brutalized in New York. Mr. Giovanni usually found out whatever he wanted to know. He’d found out all about Mr. Rutledge, hadn’t he?

Link didn’t have a chance to escape because the library door burst open at that moment and DeLorio rushed out, his face gray, his eyes wild and dilated. He pushed Link aside, nearly knocking him down, and
ran up the stairs. And Link thought:
Poor Paula. No fun and games this time, just uncontrolled rage.

“Come in, Link, do come in.”

Link wanted to join Merkel, to get far away from the house. But he couldn’t; he was a soldier, and this man was his colonel. He nodded and came into the library, shutting the door behind him.

“It would seem,” Dominick said slowly, his brow puckered in thought, “that dear Sylvia protected DeLorio, had protected him for years. Did you know about that incident in New York?”

Link shook his head. He wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t surprised about anything anymore. He was as sure as could be that Frank Lacy had killed Sylvia on Mr. Giovanni’s orders, although Frank hadn’t said anything. Then again, Frank never said anything. Frank wouldn’t hesitate to tell DeLorio to his face that his mother had died in a tragic accident. Nor would Link, for that matter.

“It would appear that I misjudged Sylvia, at least in this instance.”

Link wanted to puke. He said nothing.

“I can’t let the boy have all that money, Link. I can’t begin to imagine what he’d do with it, the kind of twisted power he’d wield with it. It’s my responsibility to control him, to direct his steps. I can see that now, more than before. He’s still immature; he needs my guidance. He just doesn’t understand how to operate yet, how to deal well with the men in this business. He’d get into drugs, the young fool. He still doesn’t think beyond his next lay or his next easy dollar.”

Link knew well enough that it was the first thing DeLorio would do. All DeLorio saw in drug trafficking was the promise of quick and easy money, lots of it. Mr. Giovanni was right about that. As for sex, the kid had the sexual appetites of a healthy young bull.

Like Merkel, Link wanted to leave the island, go
far away, but he waited patiently to see what Mr. Giovanni wanted from him.

“Charles Rutledge,” Dominick said, seeming to savor the man’s name as he rubbed his hands together. “Frank did a good job of fetching him here. The man’s scared to death. I can tell. He thinks he’s such a patrician, so cold and in control of himself, but he’ll talk soon enough, he’ll break.”

“He has every reason to be scared,” Link said.

“He’ll tell me everything. I can’t wait to have him face his stepdaughter. Ah, Rafaella.” His face hardened. “She betrayed me. Am I to be surrounded by traitors? And Marcus. I’ve given him everything—my trust, money, more freedom to do as he wished than one could imagine. And he disappointed me, failed me.”

“You don’t know that for certain yet, Mr. Giovanni. Maybe Miss Holland didn’t know anything about
Bathsheba
, Marcus either.”

“Oh, don’t I, Link? He took Rafaella to London with him, didn’t he? He’s slept with her, seduced her as soon as she arrived at the resort. He was with her when they proved the Rembrandt painting to be a forgery. He was part of it, he had to be.”

“That’s true, sir, that he was there with her. But I don’t understand why he and Miss Holland did it. If they were in on the
Bathsheba
thing, why would they want to announce it to the world? Why would Miss Holland want to tell the world that her stepfather was the man behind
Bathsheba?
Why would Marcus save your life? It doesn’t make sense.”

Dominick frowned, then shook his head. There was simply too much happening, too many outsize details, for him to keep everything straight. It was a good question, one for which he had no answer. “Perhaps Rafaella brought Marcus in on it after he took her to bed. They’ll be arriving soon now. I’ll ask them then.”

Coco knocked lightly on the library door, then entered.
She smiled at Link and turned her attention to Dominick.

“DeLorio left the house with Paula. She looked frightened, and DeLorio looked deranged, out of control. This wasn’t one of their games. I’m afraid he’ll hurt her badly.”

“Who cares? She’s failed me too, she’s—”

“He’s got to be stopped or he’ll hurt her, maybe even kill her. What happened? What did you say to him?”

“I said nothing. Link, ask Frank to bring him back in, both him and Paula. Tell Lacy to make sure DeLorio doesn’t hurt his wife.”

Link nodded and left the library. When he told Lacy what Mr. Giovanni wanted, Lacy merely said that he hoped the girl was still alive when he found them.

“Well, Coco, you’ve seen our guest? Mr. Charles Winston Rutledge III?”

“No.”

“You don’t look pleased, Coco. He’s
Bathsheba
, you know. Now he’s mine. Frank took him so easily. You’d think the man would have taken precautions. Did he believe me stupid? Unable to discover who it was who had bought the Rembrandt? He was visiting his little tart when Frank got him. He believes he’s such a well-bred patrician, his damned
noblesse oblige
—hell, like every other man, he has little tarts on the side.”

Dominick skirted his desk and poured a brandy from the crystal decanter on the sideboard. “He isn’t admitting a thing at the present, but I’m not worried. He’ll come clean very soon. There are things I’ve got to know. Do you think Rafaella was in on the assassination attempts with him? That she was his inside plant, so to speak?”

Coco shrugged. “First of all, you’re not completely certain that Mr. Rutledge is behind
Bathsheba
, much less that his stepdaughter is helping him. Nor that
Marcus is helping her. There are a lot of ifs. Too many ifs.”

“And coincidences, my dear Coco? All these parts and pieces just coincidences? Happenstance? Shall we wallow in them and ignore that they will make a whole, a perfect and complete whole, once assembled properly?”

“No, we won’t ignore anything. But you will wait and ask Rafaella and Marcus?”

“Yes, I’ll wait. Where is Jiggs? I’d like some lemonade. While I wait, maybe I’ll have him tell me some more stories about how things used to be on the island.”

It was eight o’clock in the evening. The night was perfectly clear, the stars bright points of light overhead, the air sweet and fresh with the mingling flower scents and the salty tang of the Caribbean. The helicopter they’d changed over to in St. John’s now hovered, then set down on the pad outside the house.

Four guards, heavily armed with Uzis, immediately surrounded the helicopter. Dominick emerged from the house, Coco with him.

Dominick called out, “Well done, Marta! Well done.”

Marta, Marcus thought, the woman’s name was Marta. Marta the Sadist. Tough as nails, stronger than a stevedore, mean as his mother’s scarred tomcat, Clancy. Marcus turned and lifted Rafaella down from the helicopter cabin. She looked tired, but not that weary-sick-tired that had so worried him. He straightened and looked at Dominick.

“Why did you do this?” he asked. “And where in the name of insanity did you find
her
?”

Dominick came to within a foot of him and said, “You’re a traitor. I brought you home to die a traitor’s death. A firing squad.”

Dominick nodded to Marta, and she backed up to
stand with the compound guards. Then he said, “You’re a turncoat, Marcus. It pains me to have you shot, but I have no choice.”

“No trial? No hearing of the charges, no marching out of the evidence against me?”

Dominick just smiled. “We’ll see, Marcus.” He turned to Rafaella. “Hello, my dear. You’ve gravely disappointed me as well. And Coco. You’ve disappointed her too.”

“Anyone else I’ve disappointed? How about your son? I’m to be shot too?”

“Perhaps. Come inside.” He turned to the woman and the two men. “Thank you, Marta. You did an excellent job. Give my thanks to Olivier. I owe him, and I don’t forget my debts.”

Marcus stared at Dominick. Olivier! Had the man called Dominick just because Marcus had refused to give him Rafaella? Now Olivier was Dominick’s confidant and helper? He glanced toward Marta. Olivier?

Marcus supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised by anything now.

Merkel was standing in the front doorway. He nodded to Marcus but said nothing. Marcus raised a brow, but Merkel just looked away, saying, “Please come into the library, Marcus, Miss Holland.”

But Dominick was there before them, opening the door, smiling at them, then stepping aside for them to enter. “Do allow the lady to go first, Marcus.”

Rafaella strode into the room; then stopped dead in her tracks. Her stepfather was standing there, dressed in one of Dominick’s white linen suits, looking like a plantation owner whose trouser legs were too short. He didn’t look afraid, but when his eyes met hers, she read suffering there.

“Oh, no,” she said and with a small cry ran into her stepfather’s arms. “Oh, Charles, what happened? He got you because I uncovered the Rembrandt fake! I’m sorry, so sorry. It never occurred to me that he’d
know. It’s my fault, dear God, I was so stupid. It’s all my fault.”

Charles just hugged her, but he was frowning over her head. “Who are you?”

“My name is Marcus Devlin, sir, and—”

“Don’t you mean Marcus O’Sullivan?” Dominick interrupted smoothly. “It was stupid of you to use your real name in Paris. Marta told me you had. O’Sullivan. Very Irish. It allowed me to do some checking, Marcus. I should be hearing back very soon now. I’ll strip your cover away and then we’ll see how much of a traitor you really are.”

Marcus freely admitted to himself that he’d been a fool, a colossal fool. But he hadn’t thought, hadn’t realized, that there could be any danger. It had been a hospital registration, nothing more, done just to protect Rafaella from the vultures of the press, and look what had happened—

“You’ll be disappointed, Dominick,” Marcus said. “There’s not a thing to find out about me. I’m just a soldier, your soldier, and a damned good resort manager.” He took Rafaella’s hand and looked at her stepfather, in Dominick’s clothes, complete with a pale blue silk handkerchief in the breast pocket of the white linen jacket. Even though the pants were too short, he still looked self-possessed and intelligent. “You’re Mr. Rutledge?”

“Yes.”

“Shall we all sit down?” Coco waved a hand toward the plush wicker furniture.

Dominick frowned at his mistress. “Rafaella, you will sit here, beside me.”

“Why should she?”

Dominick’s eyes narrowed on his mistress’s face. “Because I said so. Come here, Rafaella.”

Rafaella said nothing, merely sat beside him on the wicker love seat. She felt suddenly weak—she hated her body for betraying her—and afraid. Oh, yes, she
was afraid. Dominick would kill all of them. And Charles, poor innocent Charles. She didn’t care that he’d tried to kill Dominick. She didn’t blame him for that for a moment. She just wished he’d succeeded. At the moment, he looked tightly controlled and oddly gallant.

“Now, said Dominick, “I see that we’re all here.”

“Where’s DeLorio?” Marcus asked.

“I don’t want him here. It’s not necessary.”

“Why not?”

This time Dominick openly frowned at Coco, who was sitting just across from him. “Why are you questioning me? You will be quiet or you will go to your room. You have no right to question me, now or ever.”

Coco just looked at him, and said patiently, “Of course I have every right. I’ve lived with you for over three years. I’ve slept with you for over three years. I’ve pandered to your every whim for over three years. I’ve listened to you expound on the stupidity, the selfishness, the immorality, and the cupidity of women for over three years, their general uselessness except as vessels for men’s seed. I’ve been faithful to you for over three years. And when you insisted, I even aborted a child for you three years ago because it was a girl and you only wanted a boy.”

“Shut up, Coco!”

Coco smiled then, a cruel smile, vicious, and frighteningly sad at the same time. It was, Rafaella thought, insight hitting her, as if the dam had burst, and at long last she was seeing this woman without her mask.

“Ah, yes, I forgot that women were also rapacious and self-indulgent. Also, you made certain I wouldn’t ever get pregnant again. You pretended you didn’t know, but I found out that you did. That butcher of a doctor you hired told me when I saw him eight months ago. He told me that you’d told him to tie my tubes because you didn’t want any more accidents and
I was getting too old for such risks. You couldn’t take a chance that I’d produce a Down’s-syndrome child. The doctor told me you’d acted so concerned, so loving, and you were just protecting my health.”