Perfect Scoundrels (22 page)

W
hen the man in the hat boarded the train, he looked like just another businessman, a banker perhaps. No one would have noticed him at all had it not been for the woman he was meeting. She was the kind of woman people couldn’t help but notice.

When she gripped his hand, people glimpsed her perfect nails and long, elegant fingers. When she said, “I’m so happy you called,” everyone in the first-class car listened to the light trill of the syllables that drifted up and down, as gentle as the jostling of the train.

“I’ve reserved a private car,” the man said, and led the way; but behind the sliding doors, there was no doubt the mood of the meeting changed.

A big, meaty man followed the pair into the private car and patted the woman down. She didn’t object, however. She raised her hands and waited, perfectly accustomed to such a scene.

And when she was finally free to take a seat, she crossed her long legs. “As I said, I’m so glad you called.” The woman smiled. “I’m also glad the terms have changed.”

“No, they—”

“Yes,” she said flatly, “they have. You wouldn’t be here if the price hadn’t taken a drop.… Fallen off a cliff, so to speak.”

The man swallowed hard. “It was an accident.”

“I’m sure it was,” the woman said. “And I’m equally sure that you can have a very nice life in exile. Now, do you have the device?”

He handed her the case that was on the seat beside him. She removed the prototype and plugged it into her phone, waited for the device to spring to life.

“And the schematics?”

He passed her a jump drive, which she plugged into a laptop. A second later, thousands of intricate formulas and designs flashed across the screen.

“If these are incorrect, my employer will make your retirement most…uncomfortable.”

Garrett shifted nervously, but said, “They work. I just want them gone. Trust me. I never want to see that prototype again.”

“Very well,” she said. “You have a deal.”

The man reached for his own laptop and logged on to the train’s wireless network. Soon the screen bore the logo of one of Switzerland’s most elite and secure banks. They each typed in a series of numbers, and a moment later, the woman held out her hand.

“It was nice doing business with you, Mr. Garrett.”

The man was sweating and breathing hard.

“Congratulations. You’re a very wealthy man,” she told him, then placed the jump drive and prototype back into the case, slid her purse onto her shoulder. “Enjoy your retirement.”

The train pulled to a stop and the woman stood and sauntered down the aisle, back into the first-class car and out the door. When she crossed the platform, briefcase in hand, the man in the hat was perhaps the only person on the train who wasn’t watching. He couldn’t keep his gaze off of his computer, clutching the machine with sweaty palms as if his whole life lay inside. And that was perhaps why he was the only person who didn’t see the teenage girl and boy who chose that moment to board the train themselves and were soon pushing their way into his private car.

When Garrett saw Hale, a flash of fear crossed his face, but then he actually smiled as he snapped his laptop closed. “You’re too late.” He gave a low, dry laugh.

Hale was rushing down the aisle as the train began to move, but Kat just stood at the door, wondering what kind of person could watch somebody die and then run for the hills, his only concern how much money he might have for the journey.

“Sorry, Scooter, it’s gone.” He placed his laptop in his bag and his bag on the seat beside him. “You tried. But it’s done.”

“You stole it,” Hale said.

“I took what I was owed!” the man shouted, and still Kat stood, searching his eyes for any sign of remorse, but all she saw was a cold and empty greed that no amount of money would ever satisfy.

“You think that company is your legacy?” Garrett challenged. “Your birthright? It’s a tomb.”

“You’re not going to get away with this,” Kat said, and the man looked at her.

“I’m sorry about your uncle, Miss Bishop. I really am. But let’s not forget that I know all about you and your family. If anyone comes asking questions about what happened to Reginald Hale, or your uncle, for that matter, they are going to find a very thick file full of very nasty secrets. Take it from someone who has been cleaning up Hale family messes his whole life: let it go.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Kat felt the rock and sway of the train, held on to the back of one of the seats to stay upright. “I don’t think anyone is going to be too concerned about Reginald, considering he’s been dead for fifty years.”

“But…” The man’s eyes went wide and his voice trailed off when the door at the back of the car slid open.

“You mean him?” Kat asked, pointing over her shoulder, and for a moment the attorney was so quiet that Kat had to wonder if Garrett even recognized Uncle Eddie.

Gone were Reginald’s clothes and his cane. He’d traded his limp for slightly inferior posture, and there was no way the man walking down the aisle would ever be confused with a member of the Hale family. He looked like a man who missed his stove and his kitchen. But he was also a man who was very much alive.

“You…” Garrett muttered. “You’re dead. I saw you at the bottom of a cliff.”

“Did you?” Eddie asked as, behind him, the door slid open once again and Eddie’s twin brother, Charlie, came to stand beside him. “Did you really?”

The man stumbled to his feet. “Get them,” he told the guard who sat in the next row. “Stop them.”

“See…” The goon stood and spoke with a deep Scottish brogue. “I probably shouldn’t do that. It would set a terrible example for my boys. Hey”—he looked at Kat—“where are Angus and Hamish?”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Roy. They’ll meet up with us in a bit. I had a little errand for them.” Then Kat seemed to notice the look on Garrett’s face. “What?” she asked him. “I thought you knew.… I have a
very
large family.”

“So?” The man choked out a laugh. “It doesn’t change anything. The prototype is gone, and I still know where all the Hale family skeletons are buried. If you try to follow me, your family will regret it.”

“No”—Hale stepped closer, leaning over the cowering man—“
you
don’t get it.” When the train began to slow again, Hale glanced out the window. “This is our stop.”

A moment later, several men with badges were walking toward the car. Kat actually waved at the woman leading the group.

“See,” she said, “that’s
my
friend at Interpol. I told her all about you, and she’s here to have a chat.”

But Garrett didn’t tremble. Instead, he actually huffed. “I’m an attorney, Miss Bishop. I haven’t broken any Swiss laws.”

Kat smiled. Hale chuckled. The two of them shared an
Oh, isn’t he adorable
glance before Hale said, “Then it’s a good thing we aren’t in Switzerland, isn’t it?”

“What…what do you mean?”

“There was a problem with the tracks, and we got diverted. We crossed the border into France twenty minutes ago.”

Outside, Angus and Hamish waved at their father through the window.

“You know my uncle Roy, but I don’t think you’ve met his sons.” Kat pointed at the pair through the glass. “What they do best is blow things up.”

“Things like train tracks,” Hale said.

“Mr. Garrett?” Amelia Bennett was walking down the aisle toward them. She didn’t even glance at Charlie or Eddie. She just gave a little nod to Kat and Hale, and turned her full attention to the man in the hat.

“I have some questions about the death of Hazel Hale, among other things.”

That Interpol’s senior liaison to the European Union was there that day to handle the matter was something no one really questioned. It was her tip. Her call. And if she chose not to interview the other people on the train, that too was her decision.

So the passengers of the 12:10 to Geneva were free to climb from the car and out onto the platform without a question or a doubt. And no one from Interpol said a word as perhaps the greatest thieves in the world walked out of the station and blew to the far corners of the earth.

W
alking toward the private plane with Gabrielle and W. W. Hale the Fifth, Kat should have felt at least a little bit nostalgic. It was a familiar feeling, so she slipped her hand through his arm and tried to enjoy the moment—to tell herself that things were finally back to normal. But then Hale stopped.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m just trying to enjoy this while it lasts.”

“Why?” she said. “Are you planning on an early retirement?”

“No.” He shook his head and laughed. “It’s just that the jet belongs to Hale Industries, and Hale Industries is over.” He sighed. “But on the upside, I guess we’re getting ready to find out if you really only love me for my jet.”

“I might love you for your jet,” Gabrielle said, straight-faced.

He smiled at Kat. “What about you?”

“Yeah,” Kat said, nodding. “I guess that
is
the question.” She looked up at him, squinting through the bright, clear sun. “So…Hale Industries? You really think it’s over?”

Hale looked ahead, as if the jet wasn’t right in front of them, gleaming like a mirage.

“Without the prototype, yeah. I guess we can sell off all the pieces, but the company won’t go on. Funny. I didn’t think I’d miss it,” he said.

“But…”

“I think I might miss the possibility of it.”

“I’m your Colgan.” Kat didn’t know she’d said the words aloud until Hale spun on her, took her small shoulders in his hand.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m the thing you ran to when you wanted to try another life. I’m your big experiment. But in the end…maybe you were always meant to go back home.”

“Don’t say that. This isn’t some experiment I’m doing. I’m not running away.”

“Yes, Hale. You are. And that’s okay. It is,” she said when he gave her a look. “I just need you to know that if you ever want to go back home, you can. I did all this to make sure you always had a home to go back to.”

“What are you talking about, Kat?”

“I had to do everything, Hale. I had to
try
everything, so that’s why I…” Kat trailed off, but she looked at Gabrielle, who whistled.

The door of the jet slid down, but Kat couldn’t take her eyes off of Hale. She studied the silent, subtle changes in his expression as the woman from the train walked down the stairs and across the tarmac.

“Hale,” Kat said, “I don’t think you’ve ever met Gabrielle’s mom. Aunt Irina, this is Hale.”

He stared, dumbfounded, at the woman who was opening her arms. Gabrielle ran into them.

“Mama,” Gabrielle said, and the pair spoke in rapid French.

Finally, the woman pulled away from Gabrielle and looked Hale up and down, examining him before scolding her daughter. “Oh, Gabrielle, why did you let Kat call dibs on this one?”

“She saw him first,” Gabrielle said with a smile.

“You…” Hale muttered. “
You
bought the prototype?”

“Well, technically, she conned your prototype. If Garrett hadn’t been detained, he would have found that the money that was supposed to be in his account wasn’t exactly…there,” Gabrielle told him. “Funny thing about wireless networks. They can be incredibly insecure.”

“Plus, Simon is on our side,” Kat said.

“Yes,” Irina said. “He is. Now, I believe you’ve been looking for this.” Gabrielle’s mom handed Hale a case and slid on her dark glasses. “And now it’s yours. If you want it.”

“So”—Kat eyed him—“
do
you want it?”