Now You See Him (29 page)

She sounded like a child on Christmas morning. "What then?"

"Why, then you both die. Slowly, painfully. And I can start concentrating on more important things. My people are getting impatient with me. They follow me because they're afraid not to, but I know they don't understand my decisions. I don't bother to explain—I know what I'm doing. And getting rid of the two of you is imperative if we're to continue our life's work."

"Your noble calling," Francey said with contempt.

But Caitlin wasn't disturbed. "Hoping I'll jump the gun, dearie? Not on your life. I'm looking forward to your lover's expression when he shows up and sees you."

No one bothered to remove Cardiff's body. The bright lights were turned off as Francey was dragged to the burned-out shell of a building where Caitlin made her headquarters, and as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark she could see the weaponry, poised and ready, the motley group of men with sullen eyes and angry mouths. Someone shoved her down on the far side of a small campfire, and when she tried to move she heard the unmistakable warning click of a gun.

She still wasn't ready to die. When the time came she would face it, fighting all the way. But she didn't want to die for nothing but a madwoman's vengeance. She wanted a chance, one last chance, and she was going to do her damnedest to get
it
.

Caitlin sat next to her, watching her with gleeful anticipation, probably waiting for her to blubber and beg. She would do that if it would help, but Francey doubted her sister would react with anything more than amusement. Together they waited, Caitlin avid-eyed, Francey with numb dread.

At one point Francey must have drifted asleep, waking up with a jerk. "I must say, I'm in awe of your sangfroid," Caitlin said. "I doubt I'd be able to doze if I were waiting for judgment day."

"I've done nothing to be judged."

"Your life is an affront!" Caitlin shrieked suddenly. "All that money, that comfort, that safe, fat American life, while your father was bleeding to death on the soil of Ireland."

"Planting a bomb, wasn't he?" Francey said with a disdainful sniff. "Better him than innocent victims."

She almost died then; she knew it. If it hadn't been for the sudden distraction of the tall shadow at the edge of the fire, she would have breathed her last breath beneath Caitlin's clawlike fingers.

"I'm here."

The blind fury on Caitlin's face vanished in a ghastly parody of a coquettish smile. "How sweet of you to drop in," she murmured. "I gather you got my invitation."

He stepped into the circle of light thrown by the fire, and Francey stared up at him in shock. Once again he was a different man. Dressed all in black, with some sort of camouflage paint on his face, he looked like a savage. Cold, emotionless, brutal, he was a stranger, and far more dangerous than all the sullen killers who milled around Caitlin's ramshackle camp.

He didn't even glance in her direction; all his attention was focused on Caitlin Dugan. "It was delivered. What do you want?"

"I've got what I want. You and my sister. I have a taste for vengeance, Cougar, and you've more than earned it. You killed Patrick, you killed my baby brother, and you killed two other loyal soldiers on that little island."

"Don't forget Dex and his friend."

"Oh, I'm not forgetting. I figure we have plenty of time. You see, we know about your plans. We know you have twelve men waiting at Delbert Beach planning to intercept the arms shipment we've been waiting for. They won't dare come to your rescue—the mission is more important than the lives of two people, isn't it? Of course, they don't know that the arms have already arrived, along with a generous donation from some of our more militant, anti-British Middle Eastern friends. The British government didn't win any new friends with their participation in the Gulf War, Cougar, and that's greatly helped our cause."

"I imagine it has." His voice was low, cool. "What makes you think your information is correct?"

"Because it came from the top of your particular food chain. I don't suppose you noticed Ross Cardiff lying over there."

"I've seen a lot of dead men in the past few days, Caitlin. I admit I wasn't curious enough to investigate."

"He's been helping us out. Of course, he was doing it for money, not for politics, which made him a liability. But he's the one who makes the plans, you're simply the lackey. By the time your hand-picked little strike force realizes the shipment isn't coming, we'll be long gone." She cackled. "Of course, we'll leave your bodies behind. You would like a hero's burial, wouldn't you? Maybe you'll get to be buried next to your true love."

He still didn't look at Francey. She was listening to everything with numb horror, her eyes glued to Michael's tall, dangerous form. He walked closer, moving past her to squat in front of Caitlin, his back to Francey. If she hadn't been so mesmerized she wouldn't have noticed the knife he somehow managed to push toward her in the dirt as he concentrated on her murderous sister.

"What if I told you, Caitlin Dugan, that you were as big a fool to trust Cardiff as he was to trust you? That despite his title, no one paid the slightest bit of attention to him? That we know when the arms were delivered, and there aren't twelve men waiting on Delbert Beach, but more than one hundred of the most highly trained operatives the British government and their allies can afford, and they're damned close? What would you say to that?"

Francey managed to slide the knife under her skirt without attracting any attention. The men surrounding them were all mesmerized by the confrontation between the two powerful forces.

Caitlin's expression didn't waver. "I'd say you were bluffing. An act of desperation, knowing you can't save her."

"Even if I tell you the arms were delivered by a rusty fishing trawler out of Morocco on Thursday morning between 3:00 and 5:00 a.m.?"

Francey didn't need to hear the ominous rumble of voices surrounding them to know that Michael was right. "We'd best get out of here, Caitlin," someone spoke up.

"I'll do the deciding!" Caitlin shrieked. "Can't you see he's lying?"

"How would he know when the arms arrived, or how they got here? You were a fool to believe the traitor. We're leaving."

Caitlin lurched to her feet. "The first man who tries to leave is a dead man. Take him." There was a moment's hesitation as no one moved, and she screamed again. "Take him, damn you!"

To Francey's surprise, Michael didn't fight. Four men surrounded him, and she suspected if it came down to it, they would need all four to restrain him. But for now he wasn't resisting. "Let her go, Caitlin," he said evenly. "She didn't kill Patrick or your brother. She's never done you any harm. You've got me to play with—let her go."

"Her existence did me harm!" Caitlin staggered past him to grab Francey, hauling her to her feet. "The only reason I haven't killed her is because I want her to have the pleasure of watching you die first." She was drooling slightly, and her clawlike fingers were digging into Francey's arm. "And you
will
die, both of you. We have plenty of time. If you have a hundred soldiers surrounding us, where are they? We have guards stationed all around, and none of them has called in anything suspicious."

"None of them has called in at all," a voice spoke up. "Teddy was supposed to check in half an hour ago, Diurmud twenty minutes ago. We can't raise them on the radio."

Again the rumble grew louder. "We're out of here, Caitlin. We've followed you through thick and thin, but this goes beyond what's sensible. We're taking the arms and heading out. We're—"

The sudden explosion was deafening, blinding. Francey was thrown to the ground, something large and heavy crushing her. For a moment, stunned, she didn't move, and when her mind cleared, she realized she was in the midst of a battle zone.

Michael had vanished. Of the four men who'd surrounded him, two lay on the ground writhing in pain. The other two didn't move at all.

Francey tried to move, tried to push the dead weight off her, when suddenly that crushing burden came to life. And it was no dead weight at all; it was her murderous sister Caitlin, scrambling to her feet with insane fury, dragging Francey with her.

Francey reached beneath her for the knife Michael had slipped her, but she was hauled to her feet before her hand could connect with her one hope of salvation. "Looking for this?" Caitlin cackled, holding the knife aloft.

"Let me go, Caitlin. You don't really want to kill me. You know you don't."

"Of course I want to kill you," Caitlin said with mad cheeriness, dragging her away from the raging battle. "Since I was five years old and learned of your existence I've wanted to kill you. I'm not going to give up my last chance."

"You could escape. Everyone's busy…"

"I don't want to escape. Not if it means letting you live." She held the knife up to Francey's throat, and she was far, far stronger than her sister could have imagined. "Some things are worth dying for, and this is one of them. Come along, sister dear."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Out of the range of rescue. Not that the Cougar will waste his time. He's got more important things to do. I must admit, that was a bit of a disappointment. I thought he'd be more heartbroken at the thought of losing you. Take a bit of advice from me, dearie. Men aren't worth it."

"You're crazy, Caitlin," Francey said, trying not to stumble as Caitlin dragged her along. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, dearie. I know that."

Francey knew now that the rustling sound was the surf, crashing on the rocks. There were no trees around the old army barracks, only a rocky promontory with the pounding waves below. The battle raged onward, but they were moving farther and farther away, and no one would even notice they were gone.

A moon had risen, dancing through the angry clouds, and as it peeked out she could see the ocean, the sharp cliff. Francey tried to struggle, but Caitlin simply pushed the sharp blade of the knife against her neck, and she could feel the first traces of blood slide down her skin. "Are you going to die with me, Caitlin?" she asked when they finally reached the edge. "Are you going to throw yourself over with me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she cackled. "I'm not defeated yet. You're going over the side alone, with my knife buried in your throat, and then I'm out of here. I have the money, I have the luck of the Irish, I have—"

"You have nothing, Caitlin." Michael's voice came from out of the darkness. "You're a dead woman."

"Michael," Francey whispered, and she felt Caitlin grow very still as she clutched Francey to her.

"Perhaps. But I'll take her with me."

In the darkness Francey could see him. He had a gun; she knew that. She also knew he was capable of shooting Caitlin, of killing her quickly and efficiently, before Caitlin could finish with her.

With sudden, sickening clarity she realized that she wasn't going to let that happen. She'd seen Michael's face when he'd killed Dex. She'd seen the bleak, soulless look of a killer, and she knew without a doubt that with each additional death more of the man she loved was lost. And if he killed the madwoman holding her, then he would be gone for good.

"Let her go, Caitlin." His voice was calm, but Francey could see his desperation, could feel it.

"Not on your life. I know about you, Cougar. Know that you won't kill me. You don't kill women, no matter how much they deserve it. It's your weakness, Cougar. And it's going to bring you down this time."

Francey saw the faint movement of the gun. The gun that would end Caitlin's life. And Michael's.

And then she didn't think at all. She kicked out, wrapping her foot beneath Caitlin's sticklike leg and pulling. Her sister collapsed, her hands clawing for support that wasn't there. And then she was gone, over the cliff, smashing onto the rocks below.

Francey turned and sank to her knees, sobbing. Caitlin's body lay on the jagged rocks, still and unmoving, and there was no doubt she was dead. Francey waited for Michael to come to her, to draw her into his arms and comfort her. But when she looked up, he was gone.

And in the distance, the battle raged on.

«
^

"I don't like the idea of you going out there alone," Daniel fretted. "Can't you wait till I'm out of the hospital?"

Francey reached over and patted his frail hand. She'd spent the past two weeks by his hospital bed, the enforced quiet going a tiny way toward healing her own wounds, but she knew full well that Daniel wasn't going to be up and around for a long time. "I need some time alone, Daniel. Just peace and quiet and sunshine. Belle Reste will give me that. With the Cadre wiped out I'm in no danger. Even you admit that."

"I'm afraid it will bring back painful memories. He's gone, Francey. We both know it."

"I'm surprised you even admit he existed in the first place." The pain had become a constant companion now, almost a comfortable friend, and she scarcely noticed its intensity.

"I'm the only one who'll admit it."

"Cecil admitted it. When he brought me out of that inferno and left me here at the hospital. He's the one who told me he'd died."

"Buried with full military honors," Daniel said. "Just like that little rat Cardiff."

"But he wasn't really Charlie Bisselthwaite," Francey said, leaning against the hospital bed.

"He wasn't Michael Dowd, either. We've gone over this time and time again, Francey. I don't even know who he was. He'll rest just as easily in Charlie Bisselthwaite's grave as anyone else's."

"If he's dead."

"Don't fight it, Francey. Cecil wouldn't have lied to you."

"No one tells the truth," she said flatly. "He's not dead."

"Is that why you want to go back to St. Anne? Are you hoping he'll show up? I would have thought life had knocked such romantic notions out of your head."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" She didn't deny it.

Daniel shook his head wearily. "You're an enigma to me, Francey. You have that madwoman buried on Irish soil, at great expense, when the creature would have murdered you. I have my accountants go to a great deal of trouble to get your trust fund back from the Children of Eire, and you simply hand it over to another organization. At least this time it was a legitimate one, but you might consider that you need to earn a living."