Silent Partner (4 page)

“You’re late, John,” the man called out in a heavy British accent.

“It’s wonderful to see you, too, Billy boy,” Tucker replied. “This guy’s a real prick,” he muttered over his shoulder.

“Ms. Day, I’m William Colby,” the man announced as he neared them, looking past Tucker. “Please get down from the horse. We’re behind schedule.”

Colby had closely set eyes, and a wide, hooked nose that seemed out of place on his thin face. He was completely bald. Unlike the other men milling about the cabin, he wasn’t wearing a blue knit ski cap—or shouldering a gun.

“He’s Secret Service via Scotland Yard,” Tucker whispered. “Very British, very stuffy, and very—”

“Very efficient,” Colby finished, his aristocratic accent knifing through the cold air. “I’m very good at what I do, Ms. Day, which is why I run global security for Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Tucker runs a ranch.”

“Confident chap, wouldn’t you say?” Tucker grunted, helping Angela slide down from the horse.

She nodded subtly at Tucker from the ground. But, despite his slight build, there was an unmistakable aura of competence about Colby. A sense of purpose.

“Please take ten paces toward the cabin, Ms. Day,” Colby ordered, signaling to one of his men.

“There’s no need for all of that,” Tucker assured Colby, swinging his right leg over the horse and dropping down into the snow. “She’s clean. I checked.”

“Stop right there, Ms. Day,” Colby demanded as Angela completed her tenth pace.

Angela stopped and waited as the man Colby had motioned to pulled the weapon from his shoulder, handed it to another man, and jogged toward her.

“Hands behind your head and spread your legs,” the guard ordered gruffly.

“What?”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “Billy, don’t—”

“Do as you are told, Ms. Day,” Colby directed, cutting Tucker off.

When Angela complied, the guard frisked her, starting with her shoulders then moving down her arms.

Tucker shook his head. “You’re an asshole, Billy.”

“And you are a cowboy,
Johnny,
” Colby retorted. “But we each have a job to do. So I won’t tell you how to shovel pig slop, and you won’t tell me how to protect Mr. Lawrence.” The man frisking Angela had halted his search and Colby pointed at him. “Finish!”

“Easy,” Angela warned when the man squatted in front of her. “Dammit!” she shouted, stepping back quickly when he placed his hands on her knees, then began moving them up her inner thighs.

“She’s not carrying a weapon, sir,” the man reported to Colby.

“All right,” he acknowledged. “Please proceed to the cabin, Ms. Day. Mr. Lawrence is waiting for you inside.”

“Who’s responsible for getting her back down the mountain?” Tucker wanted to know.

“You are,” Colby snapped.

“Can’t you give her a ride to the airport in the chopper, Billy? I’ll have somebody from the lodge take her luggage out there.”

“We aren’t going directly to the airport when Mr. Lawrence is finished with Ms. Day.”

“I’m waiting inside, then.”

“You’ll wait out here,” Colby declared, “where I can keep an eye an you.”

Tucker let out a frustrated breath. “Then I suppose I’ll have to resort to other means of warmth.” He pulled a flask from a saddle bag, unscrewed the top, and brought it to his lips.

“Go on, Ms. Day,” Colby ordered, watching Tucker take several healthy gulps from the flask.

“I’ll be here,” Tucker called after her, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. “Don’t worry.”

Angela followed the man who had frisked her to the cabin, then skirted around him as he held open the door and gestured for her to proceed. The door closed behind her and for a moment she could see little as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Despite the overcast sky, it had been bright outside with the snow cover, and the only light inside the cabin came from the glow of a low fire.

“Hello, Ms. Day.”

Angela’s eyes flashed in the direction of the voice. She could barely discern the outline of someone sitting in a large chair in a corner of the room away from the fireplace.

“I’m Jake Lawrence.” The figure stood up and came toward her out of the darkness. “Let me help you off with your coat. You’ll melt in here if you keep it on.”

He was right. It was warm inside the cabin. Very warm. She’d noticed the heat as soon as she’d stepped through the door. Her thoughts flashed to Tucker’s cynical view of this meeting. Perhaps there was a reason the room was so warm.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Lawrence continued, taking her hand.

Lawrence’s hand was as smooth as Tucker’s had been rough. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Lawrence.”

“I appreciate your coming all the way out here from the East Coast on such short notice, Ms. Day. I know it was inconvenient, but this arrangement worked out best for me. And I wanted to get together with you as soon as possible. So, thank you.”

“Certainly,” she replied. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t be impressed with Jake Lawrence, but now, in his presence, she found it difficult not to be in awe of him. He was one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the world. Earning interest on interest faster than he could spend it, and influencing the decisions of world leaders from behind the scenes. She’d grown up digging for nickels and dimes beneath the cushions of the double-wide’s ratty sofa. “I appreciate all the hospitality your staff has shown me, especially John Tucker’s.” She felt Lawrence’s hand subtly contract around hers at the mention of Tucker’s name. “I like John,” she continued. “He’s one of those people you trust right away, you know?”

“John is a good man,” Lawrence agreed quietly, his demeanor chilling slightly. “A dedicated employee.”

“I have to tell you I was nervous coming up here on horseback, particularly when we got to the narrow part of the trail. But it was no problem for John. I get the feeling he could handle almost—”

“Yes,” Lawrence cut in curtly, “we are fortunate to have a man like Mr. Tucker managing the ranch.”

For a moment there was no sound in the room except the crackle of fire.

Angela cleared her throat. “Well, I just want you to know that I’ve been treated like a princess since boarding your plane in Richmond yesterday,” Angela said.

“Standard operating procedure.” Lawrence slowly allowed her fingers to slip from his. “Especially for a creature as lovely as you.”

“Thank you,” she murmured self-consciously, glancing up. Lawrence was about the same height as Tucker, but he was slimmer, so he seemed taller. Instead of a flannel shirt, dusty wool-collared jacket, frayed jeans, and muddy boots, Lawrence wore a stylish white turtleneck sweater, pressed, pleated pants, spit-shined brown boots, and a sharp, fawn-colored Stetson. His face was intricately sculpted and, when he smiled, small lines formed at the corners of his mouth and a distinct dimple appeared in each cheek. His smile was warm, but his dark, dead eyes were decidedly not. Though she didn’t get a long look at them, she saw instantly in the large black pupils that he was a man who expected immediate compliance with his orders, was accustomed to and comfortable with wielding power, and had little tolerance for opposing opinions. She found herself pulling down the zipper of the borrowed jacket. He was used to getting his way, Tucker had warned.

“Let me take that for you,” Lawrence offered, slipping the jacket off her arms from behind. “If you don’t mind, please remove those wet boots, as well.” He hung up her coat in a nearby closet. “Leave them by the door,” he suggested, returning to his chair.

She slipped out of the boots, then followed his gesture and padded to a couch along the wall near his chair.

“Have some coffee,” Lawrence offered, nodding at the pot and cups arranged on a long, low table in front of the couch.

“Thanks. I will.” She poured herself a cup, then sat back. After the cold ride up the mountain, the coffee tasted delicious.

“I’m sorry if Bill Colby and his deputies offended you in any way. I asked him not to put you through the standard inspection routine, but he’s very thorough.”

“Thorough would certainly be an accurate description,” Angela agreed.

“The thing is I have to be very careful,” Lawrence explained, his voice measured. “You must understand my situation. It’s difficult for me to trust anyone. There are people who, for various reasons, wouldn’t mind seeing me dead.”

“I’m sure you’re safe here with that personal army of yours camped outside.”

“I’m never completely safe, Ms. Day.”

It sounded paranoid but maybe when you had more money than God—as the
Wall Street Journal
had once described his multibillion-dollar net worth—there really was such danger. “Of course, all that money allows you to own a place like this.”

“Money does provide me certain luxuries others don’t enjoy,” Lawrence replied evenly.

For the first time Angela thought she detected irritation in his voice, and it occurred to her that few people probably ever challenged Jake Lawrence. After all, what would be the point? There could be no upside in making an enemy of him. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to let her trailer park bitterness rear its ugly head. Or allow her penchant for putting a poor little rich boy in his place boil to the surface either. “I’m sure you deal with circumstances and pressures I could never understand, Mr. Lawrence.”

“There’s nothing I can’t handle.” He waved, as though swatting at a fly. “But enough about me,” he said. “Let me hear about your background.”

Angela ran her tongue along her upper lip. She’d noticed a strange flavor to the coffee, not an unpleasant taste, but one she didn’t recognize. She glanced over into Lawrence’s dark eyes, barely visible beneath the brim of his Stetson. She was thinking again about Tucker’s inference that this wasn’t a legitimate business meeting. That Lawrence had other motivations.

“Something wrong?” Lawrence asked, watching Angela place the cup down on the table.

“No.”

Lawrence grinned. “It’s Irish whiskey. My staff knows that I always take Irish whiskey in my coffee. I should have warned you.”

“No, no, it tastes good.” A remote cabin. Heat turned way up. Whiskey in the coffee. An army of men outside. John Tucker had known Lawrence for twenty years. How could she have doubted his judgment? She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
Well, if that’s what Jake Lawrence has in mind, he’s going to be very disappointed.

“
Please
tell me about yourself, Ms. Day.”

“Do you mind explaining why I’m here?”

“We’ll get to all of that,” he assured her. “But I want to hear about you first.”

At eight thousand feet even this small amount of alcohol in the coffee was affecting her. She could feel it seeping into her system. “I’m a vice president at Sumter Bank, which is headquartered in Richmond, Virginia,” she began. “I make loans to Old Economy manufacturing and retail companies mostly in Georgia and Alabama. That’s my territory, so I travel down there quite a bit. Sumter isn’t as big as the New York banks but, with thirty billion in assets, we’re not small either. We certainly wouldn’t have been able to get that big just making loans to companies in Virginia. I’ve been with the bank for almost six years, and in my current position for four.” She watched Lawrence pick up a glass resting on a small table beside his chair. “But you already know all of that.”

He froze, the glass just short of his lips. “What do you mean?”

“A man like you wouldn’t fly a nobody like me across the country without a purpose. And purpose implies a certain level of knowledge.”

“You’re starting to sound more like a lawyer than a banker, Ms. Day.”

“The flight out here was obviously arranged with me in mind. Crab imperial for dinner,
Erin Brockovich
for me to watch, the books, the magazines: all my favorites. Same with my room at the lodge: my favorite shampoo, my favorite soap, little Brach’s peppermint candies by my bed instead of the standard hotel chocolates. You researched me. Candidly, it was a little unnerving.”

“Of course I researched you,” he answered. “Actually, it was a woman on my staff who did all the legwork,” he admitted. “She prepares me for all my meetings. Preparation is one of the most important success drivers. Wars are won or lost before they’re ever fought, and the deciding factor is always preparation.”

“I didn’t know we were talking about war.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” he replied quickly, nodding at the door. “Every day there’s an economic war going on out there. Everybody is constantly battling for their piece of the pie.”

“Yes, and some people have bigger forks.”

Lawrence smiled. “Keep taking me through your background, Ms. Day. You said you worked for Sumter Bank in Richmond.”

“Yes, a bank you own 8 percent of, Mr. Lawrence. Which, I have to believe, has something to do with why I’m here.” She saw that he was about to speak up. “I checked Free Edgar and the 13-d filings,” she explained, anticipating his question. “The 13-d is the report that requires investors like you to inform the Securities and Exchange Commission that he or she has acquired 5 percent or more of a public company. There were a couple on file. You’re up from owning 6 percent of Sumter two months ago.” She shook her head. “I did a rough calculation. As near as I can tell, you’ve got about $450 million tied up in Sumter stock.”

“Actually, it’s closer to $4
90
million. Almost five hundred.”

“Wow.” Angela couldn’t help reacting aloud. It wasn’t just the amount of the investment that impressed her. It was the fact that Lawrence would invest that much in
one
stock. She assumed his financial advisors would keep him widely diversified, so even the liquid portion of his net worth had to be huge if he could devote almost half a billion dollars to a single investment. Even if he was using margin.

“I’ve spent $490 million so far,” he continued, “but you are correct in that my investment is only worth $450 million. The stock has dropped a few points over the last couple of months, even as I’ve been buying. Usually, the price of a stock rises as word gets out that I’m accumulating. The press calls it the ‘Lawrence Effect.’ My investment bankers are curious about why the Lawrence Effect isn’t kicking in this time. I always said hell would freeze over the day an investment banker didn’t have an explanation for something. Maybe it has. I don’t know. I hope I never find out. But I do know I’m down $40 million.”