Love After All (16 page)

“What are you talking about?” he asked, seeing the money on the bed.

“There's only a few thousand dollars there. If it's not enough I'll get more…”

“Look, I'm paying blackmail, so just give me the originals and let's end this charade now…” he demanded at the same time she was talking.

“I can't believe that I fell for this again. I hope you and Eric had a good laugh on my behalf. Just give me the information and get out…” she continued, ignoring him as he spoke.

Then, at the same time they stopped and looked at each other as if they were both crazy as each finally realized what the other had said.

“Wait, did you say blackmail?” she said finally hearing him. “What are you talking about?”

“I don't get it, why make love to me all afternoon and half the night if all you wanted is the money? Why the games? Why not just name your price?”

“Games,” Samantha said, then chuckled. “Oh, please, you send me a ticket and get me all the way out here saying that you can help me find him and you say that
I'm
playing games?”

“I didn't send you anything. You arranged for this meeting, you have the documents. I want them. Just name your price so we can get this over with.”

“I didn't arrange anything. You got me here. There's your note,” she said, motioning to the note she'd dropped on the bed earlier. “Do you know where he is or not?”

“Where who is?” Jackson said, sparing a quick glance at the note.

“Eric,” she spat out.

“I should have known you were just too good to be true. You pretended to be everything I wanted in a woman. I bet that you had me pegged from the beginning. In the bar, I can't believe I fell for the damsel-in-distress act,” he said as she began shaking her head, denying everything. “I was actually falling for you,” he said, chuckling in disbelief.

“Just tell me where he is and go,” she said.

“Lady, you were wrong on the plane. You are nuts.”

She smiled and seemed to relax. “You blew it, all this work for nothing. So, what are you, the roper or the lure?”

“The what or the what?”

“Oh, come on now, the jig is up. You've been caught. But I'll give you your props, you were good, very good. I almost bought it. The kiss on the plane was brilliant, the restaurant, the drive to the inn, all perfectly executed. Congratulations, you got me,” she walked around and continued tossing things into her suitcase.

“
You
kissed
me,
” he reminded her.

“You're right, I did, bravo.” She slammed and locked the case, then began applauding. “End of con. The shill in the first-class lounge at the airport was a bit over the top. But playing a man against the wall is always tricky. You have guts. I'm impressed and that's not easy to do.”

“Oh, come on, Samantha,” he said firmly. “The game is over. I got your note.”

“My note? What note, what are you talking about?”

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a familiar envelope and handed it to her.

She looked at it without touching it, already guessing what it said. “When did you get that?”

“At the inn where you left it for me an hour and a half ago, so as you can see, there's no need to continue with this, just tell me how much you want,” he repeated plainly as he stood in the center of the suite with his checkbook in one hand and cash in the other.

She looked into his eyes and read the expression. Either he was the most brilliant inside man in the history of the con or he actually had no idea what she was talking about. The sudden thought of being trapped hit her. “You need to leave now,” she said and grabbed her suitcase and bolted for the door.

“Wait,” Jackson said, quickly cutting her off before she reached the exit. “You obviously know what's going on, or at least have some idea, so tell me.”

Samantha shook her head. “I'm out of here.” She sidestepped him and opened the door as he turned to follow.

“Good evening, or rather, good morning.”

Samantha stopped. Her mouth dropped wide open as a man stood directly in her path. Jackson stopped right behind her as both stood looking at an elderly gentleman dressed in a dark suit and a bowler hat. He carried a silver-tipped walking stick and draped a raincoat over his arm. Without saying another word, he breezed past them and placed his things neatly on the bed. He looked around the room, nodding his head approvingly, then turned back to them.

Jackson turned to Samantha. “A friend of yours, I presume. Your partner perhaps?” he asked. She didn't reply.

“Not quite, Mr. Daley,” he said to Jackson, then looked at Samantha and smiled admiringly as she continued to stare in awe.

“And you are?” Jackson asked as he walked back into the room and stood in front of the stranger. “Wait a minute, I know you, you're the man I spoke with in the lobby earlier this morning.”

“Lincoln, Percival Lincoln, retired Inspector Percival Lincoln,” he said proudly. “How do you do.”

“Retired inspector?” Jackson questioned.

“Yes.” He reached into his suit jacket, pulled out and quickly flipped open a badge and ID. He handed it over to Jackson.

“What exactly do you want, Inspector?” Jackson asked, looking at his identification.

“Excellent question,” he said, turning and seeing Samantha still standing at the door. “Uh, Ms. Taylor, I suggest you delay your retreat, at least until you hear what I have to say.” Seeing an unopened complimentary bottle of water on the table, he walked over. “Ah, perfect, I'm completely winded.” He opened the bottle and took a long sip. “I must admit, keeping up with the two of you is quite exhausting.”

Jackson turned to Samantha. “Ms. Taylor, is that your real name, Samantha Taylor?” Jackson asked.

Samantha looked at him but didn't answer. She was too stunned. The shock of seeing Lincoln here left her speechless.

“Ms. Taylor, Mr. Daley, please, all I ask is just a moment of your time. Actually, I had intended to meet the both of you earlier this evening, but as you seemed to get along better than I'd expected I find that I had to delay my timetable to accommodate your date.”

“You sent us these notes,” Jackson said.

“Indeed,” he said after another sip of water. Samantha watched intently as he tipped his head back slowly to swallow the water. He was just as she remembered, calm, assured and forever composed.

“Look, you have business with me personally, this doesn't include Samantha.”

“Actually, your business with me, Mr. Daley, coincides with Ms. Taylor's business with me. You see, the two of you need each other to get what you each came here for.”

“What?” Jackson said.

“It's called blackmail. He wants to use us,” Samantha said, coolly finding her voice and speaking up for the first time since the inspector arrived.

“I wouldn't put it quite like that, Ms. Taylor.
Blackmail
is such an ugly word. I prefer to consider it a joint opportunity of sorts on both your behalfs.” Lincoln said, then turned to Samantha and smiled. She shook her head, having heard it before and knowing exactly what he was up to. “I, of course, expected you to understand. Your father taught you well.” Samantha visibly tensed. “Yes, your father,” he said, then turned to Jackson. “I'm familiar with your father, as well, Mr. Daley. His illustrious career speaks for itself. I also knew your mother,” he added specifically to Jackson.

“What do you have for me this time, a trip around the world?” Samantha said. Lincoln turned around and smiled at her.

“So you do know each other,” Jackson said suspiciously.

“Mr. Lincoln and I shared a cab a few days ago. He left an envelope for me. Inside was a first-class ticket to Los Angeles and this hotel-room reservation.”

“Very good, Ms. Taylor, I'm delighted you remember me so well,” he said.

“What exactly do you want from us?” Samantha asked.

“Actually, it's more like what you can do for each other, if indeed you're willing to take a chance.”

“What if I say no, I don't want to do this thing, whatever it is, then what?” she said, staring pointedly at the older man.

“Not at all surprising, Ms. Taylor, given your past. You don't take chances, not anymore. And declining is indeed your prerogative, of course, but it would be to your advantage to not make any hasty decisions until you've first heard my proposal. I know you and I know that you would want…”

“Get this straight—no matter what you think you know, you don't know me,” she said firmly. “You never did and never will.”

“That's true, I don't. I can only hope that you'll do this to help yourself and of course help Mr. Daley. Since the two of you hit it off so well, it will add credence to the performance, making it that much more realistic.”

“What performance?” Jackson asked.

“Let's just get right to the point, shall we?” He sat down in a seat by the window and pulled out an envelope and set it down on the glass table, then glanced at the two opposite chairs, obviously expecting them to sit down, as well. “I have in this envelope…”

“The documents?” Jackson asked.

“No, not exactly.”

“Where are they, who has them?” Jackson continued.

“Please, if you'll have a seat I'll explain.” Neither Samantha nor Jackson moved an inch. “Please, I assure you, your cooperation will be beneficial to both of you. I have in this envelope information you'll need that will enable you to achieve your objectives.”

“What is it?” Jackson asked.

Lincoln slid the envelope to the other side of the glass table, expecting Jackson to move forward and pick it up. When Jackson didn't walk over, he continued, “It's a code that will get you into the place where the information is located.”

Neither Jackson nor Samantha moved or spoke. They each just stood and looked at the envelope suspiciously.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Samantha said, then picked up her suitcase and placed her hand on the doorknob to leave. Both men turned to her.

Percival Lincoln stood. “Ms. Taylor.”

“Don't bother. Whatever you have to say I don't want to hear it. I've heard it all before, I know it by heart, the scams, the cons, the drama. I don't want any part of it, I'm out.”

“This is about Robert Taylor, isn't it, Sammy?” Lincoln said openly.

“Robert Taylor,” Jackson repeated in a whisper as his heart nearly stopped beating.
His mother's Robert Taylor?

Samantha went still, then seconds later turned around. “Don't bring his name up to me!” she said through gritted teeth.

“You're still angry. I expected as much. You're so much like your mother.”

“That's funny…she said that I was so much like him.”

Lincoln chuckled, “You are indeed, you and your brother.”

“Leave my brother out of this,” she said.

“I'm afraid that's not possible, it's too late.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean that Jefferson is already involved.”

Samantha shook her head, knowing better. “No, that's impossible. He retired years ago and he owns a legitimate business, an import-export business—” She stopped, realizing the possibility. Jefferson had contacted and warned her away from Eric's apartment four months ago and had been guiding her ever since. He knew about Lincoln's envelope bringing her to Los Angeles. There had to be some connection.

“Let me tell you a story,” Lincoln began. “Once upon a time, on record as the highest-priced photograph, an Edward Steichen photograph was placed at private auction. Two very competitive bidders vied for the honor of the purchase. It was sold for two million pounds—that's over four million dollars. After detailed analysis, the buyer realized that it was just a clever fake. He went to the authorities, but as stated in the contract he signed, he'd purchased an original copy. Mortified by his obvious error, he's been trying to retaliate ever since.”

“So you're saying that someone is after Jefferson because of something he did years ago?”

“No, something your father did years ago.”

“I hate to break up this family reunion, but you and I have business, Mr. Lincoln.”

Lincoln turned to Jackson. “Yes, of course, Mr. Daley…”

Samantha turned back to the door. She wasn't sure how much to believe, if any of it. She knew that Jefferson was involved in something and needed her help. But without actually talking to him there was no way to know what to believe.

A sudden sinking feeling churned in her stomach as the idea that someone was after her brother made her fearful. There was no way she could walk away when he needed her. But not knowing the full story gave her pause. If this didn't work out or she messed up, the consequences would be just as final.