The Enclave (53 page)

“Ms. McHenry?” A swarthy-faced servant with an East Indian accent bade her follow him through the crowd toward the obelisk. She glimpsed not one person she knew until they reached the dais set up before the obelisk, where she was delighted to see Cameron Reinhardt deep in conversation with Swain and several other men. Cameron alone stood facing her, and dressed in suit and tie as he was tonight, he looked far more the dashing spy than the absentminded professor, a thought that almost made her giggle.

As she approached he glanced up at her, then did a double take to stare in unabashed appreciation. Seeing his reaction, Swain turned and immediately blazed with an approving smile.

“Lacey, my dear,” he cried, stepping forward to take and kiss her hand, “you look even lovelier than I had imagined you would. The gown is perfect.”

She flushed, uncomfortable all over again, though Swain seemed not to notice. Eagerly he introduced her to the other men in their conversational circle: the deep-voiced billionaire, Ian Trout, who was so integral to K-J’s funding and direction; a U.S. Army general in civilian clothing; the CEO of a weapons manufacturing company; and a high-powered investment broker. To say Lacey was out of her element was an understatement. Thankfully, after only a few moments of conversation, Swain whisked her away to meet a new round of overachievers—except for her, it seemed there was not one regular person here.

Within ten minutes she was so completely intimidated and demoralized she could hardly speak. It didn’t help that people made no attempt to hide their opinion that her attendance had nothing to do with her professional achievements. Some of the guests, especially the older women, made her want to fold up and crawl away.

She and Swain returned to the head table as dinner was about to be served, where she was profoundly disappointed to find that Cameron not only wouldn’t be sharing their table but had, in fact, disappeared. Not until then did she realize how much she’d craved his company, a balm of sorts to the battering her self-confidence was taking. She feared it was going to be a very long evening.

Standing behind his chair as his guests settled into their places, Swain tapped his wineglass with a fork. As the rumble of conversation died away, he welcomed his guests with great affection, then drew everyone’s attention to the table centerpieces, each of which showcased one of K-J’s genetically engineered marvels—either a bioluminescent tree frog in a small octagonal terrarium or a glowing starburst protea blossom floating in a shallow glass water bowl. The head table was graced with the latter, but Swain cited both as “examples of the artistic and aesthetic potential of the amazing field of genetic engineering.”

Finally he called for the feasting to begin, and as the first-course salads were set before them, the general who sat beside her wondered aloud if the food had been genengineered, as well.

Genengineered or not, it was fabulous, and Swain turned out to be the consummate gentleman—attentive, complimentary, even funny. Despite her rocky start and all the dread she’ d brought with her, Lacey ended up enjoying herself. In fact, Swain was so courteous and proper, she began to think all her fears about his plans for her were baseless.

Until the meal ended and a servant appeared at his side to whisper something in his ear. Whatever the servant said turned him stiff and tense. He frowned darkly across the patio, then nodded to the servant and immediately turned to Lacey, all sign of his previous animosity completely masked by his charm. “There are some new arrivals I must greet,” he told her. “Please come and let me introduce you.”

He led her not toward the elevator but away, off the back of the dais to a gate in the greenery that led to the penthouse’s immediate grounds. There three men in Middle Eastern garb awaited him, watching the partygoers with obvious disapproval, Swain’s lighted swimming pool glowing in the inner yard behind them.

Despite his earlier displeasure, Swain greeted them with his usual warmth and enthusiasm. He drew her up beside him, introducing her with obvious pleasure. Intense and aloof, the men showed not the slightest interest in her. After a few moments of attempting to make polite conversation, and failing, Swain turned to her with an easy smile. “Would you excuse us for just a moment, my dear? I’m afraid these gentlemen have business that will not wait. Perhaps you’d like to explore the gardens in the interim. I can have one of my people show you around if you like—”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” she assured him. “I’ll be fine.”

He gave her a nod. “That’s my girl. This shouldn’t take long. I’ll no doubt be with you by the time you make it to the orchid house.”

With that, he and his surly guests passed through the gate and around the swimming pool, disappearing into the penthouse to do their business. Which left Lacey standing there, uncertain whether she’d been abandoned or freed. Would it be permissible to leave? Probably not. He’ d promised to rejoin her. And in exploring the gardens, at least she wouldn’t have to meet any more CEOs, Nobel laureates, or other luminaries to whom she had nothing to say. If she was really lucky, she might even run into Cameron.

She’d just exited the lovely enclosed orchid garden and was admiring the jaguars in their naturalistic enclosure when a server approached her with a tray of chocolate candies in fluted paper cups. “Would you care for a truffle, ma’am?” he asked.

He was very neat, very professional, with very short blond hair, blue eyes, and a snappy black waitstaff vest. He also seemed very familiar, though she couldn’t think where she’ d seen him before.

At her request he identified the varieties of confection on his tray. Then, as she chose a mocha truffle, he said casually, “Dr. Reinhardt is enjoying the view at the south end of the garden’s west wall if you’d care to join him there.”

Her head jerked up in surprise. “Now?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He left her and went to present his tray to a group of glittering dowagers not far away. Lacey glanced around. Swain was still nowhere to be found. Dare she risk being found in Cameron’s company? Absolutely.

Separated from the reception patio by the atrium, the garden’s west side lay virtually deserted. She strolled southward along the waist-high wall as far as she could go but didn’t find him. Disappointed, she stood under a tree and stared across the campus, wondering what to do. The bowl was still bright with lights and bustling with activities on this last night of the expo, but the rest of the grounds lay blanketed in stillness, the hangars and storage buildings standing as lonely outposts, bathed in cones of light from their security lamps. It was humid and still warm. Over the mountains, clouds flickered with intermittent lightning, accompanied by the lagging rumble of thunder.

He came up beside her without a word and put a finger to his lips for silence the moment she looked at him. Then he slipped around behind her and she felt the kiss of his fingertips on her nape as he unfastened the clasp of her diamond necklace. He lifted it off her chest, laid it carefully on the flat stone atop the wall before her, then removed her hook earrings and laid them with the necklace. Finally, he covered all with a twelve-inch square of gray jeweler’s cloth and, taking her hand, led her away from the wall into the jungle behind them. He stopped in a shadowed bower, where a toolbox and watering station were concealed in the greenery and light from the penthouse’s decorative lamps filtered dimly through the trees. There he turned to face her, still holding her hand.

She thought he’ d ask about the chip that had been surreptitiously inserted under her shoulder blade at the salon that afternoon or how things had gone with Swain, but he just stood there, staring down at her.

“What?” she finally asked.

He shook his head. “You look amazing. It was all I could do to get my mouth closed that first time I saw you. And whatever I was going to say to General Lader flew right out of my mind.” He paused and his lips quirked. “Kinda like now.”

After an evening with Swain and his easy praises, his effusive warmth and supreme confidence . . . she found Cam’s awkward but honest manner not only refreshing but endearing. She stood there for some time, happy just to gaze up at him, feeling safer than she had all day.

Abruptly he seemed to reorder his thoughts, then pulled out his BlackBerry, pushed at it a few times, and handed it to her. A years-old photograph of Swain, Genevieve, and the diamond merchant from the Ivory Coast she’ d met before dinner glowed on its screen. “Where in the world did you find this?” she asked. “It must be forty years old.They look like children.”

“They
are
children. And I took it this morning beyond the eastern berm.”

“
You
took it?” She stared at the screen, thunderstruck. “This
morning
?”

“They’re living, breathing clones—of Gen and Swain, at least. The other one I don’t recognize.”

“He’s Mr. Abuku from the Ivory Coast. I met him tonight. ”

He slipped the phone from her fingers and back into its holster. “There’s a whole village of them down there. Where they call Swain Father and have to say a worshipful affirmation of their gratitude every morning.”

As the implications of Cam’s discovery slowly solidified in her thoughts, she began to feel sick and light-headed. Clones. Real, live, nearly adult clones. They proved Swain’s need for surrogates, possibly egg donors, as well. . . .

Suddenly all the fears with which she began the day came surging back. Once again, she’ d fallen for the Swain Effect, her emotions bedazzled by his charm, her mind shut off, her fears dismissed. Even after she’d seen him put on his happy face with her own eyes tonight. He was going to ask her up to the penthouse; all his amiable platonic behavior had merely served to get her to lower her guard.

As she stood in jittering shock, Cameron told her all that he’ d experienced that morning. “I’ll be going back in tonight. The good news, though, is that
you’re
out.”

She gaped at him. “Out? What do you mean?”

“We have our way in now.” He drew a breath and shook his head. “You don’t have to play his games any longer. In fact, my friend is set to get you out—”

“Wait a minute. I was willing to help before when it was just missing girls. Now it’s a whole slave factory, from what you’re telling me, so why shouldn’t I—”

“Because there’s no need, and the risk is too great.” He caught her hand and squeezed it. “You can leave all this behind—with your reputation intact, if all goes well.”

She looked up at him, wondering why it felt more like she’d had the rug pulled out from under her than that she’ d been delivered. “Will I ever see you again?” she asked, mortified by the pitiful tone threading her voice.

He stared at her wide-eyed, then swallowed and said, “I don’t know. Would you even want to?”

“Yes. Very much.”

She seemed to have stunned him into wordlessness. Then a crackling of leaves drew her attention suddenly and guiltily toward a man now standing in the path not ten feet from them. It was the blond server, minus his tray of desserts.

She looked at Cam in alarm. “What’s he doing over there?”

Cameron smiled slightly. “Standing guard.”

She frowned at him, then at the server. “Is
he
the one who’s going to help me?”

“Yes.”

She looked at the server again, and suddenly she knew who he was.“Is that Mr.
Mallory
? Your obnoxious insurance adjuster?”

“Not anymore.” Cam grinned and shook his head. “He’ll be disappointed you recognized him. He puts great stock in his chameleon abilities.”

“Well, I probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been so annoying yesterday, accusing you of being drunk and going back to burn your own car.”

“Yes, he said you were quite defensive of me.”

“And there I was worrying I was getting you into trouble.”

“Not then, but you probably are now.”

“Hey,
you
invited me.”

He smiled at her. “You didn’t have to come.”

Her frown deepened.

“I’m glad you did, though, because now I’ll know you’re safe.” Quickly then, he outlined the plan they’d devised to get her out. She was to leave the reception as soon as she could and return to her room to change clothes. At 12:11 there’d be another blackout, during which she’ d take the outside stairwell to the ground floor and wait at the exit for a Broadmoor’s catering van. “That’ll be Mallory,” he said. “You got all that?”

After she repeated it back to him to his satisfaction, he returned her to the spot where he’ d first met her. Uncovering the necklace and earrings, he carefully put them back on her, the mothlike touches of his fingers on her ears and neck and shoulders shooting tingles throughout her body. When he was done, she turned to face him, and he stood watching his hands as he adjusted some of the stones in the necklace, fingers trailing lightly upward along its edge and up the side of her neck to her jaw. Then, almost inevitably, his palm cupped her cheek and he was kissing her. It was a gentle, tentative kiss, as if he wasn’t sure of her response, and he withdrew after only a moment.

She stood with her eyes closed, reveling in the touch of his lips along the edge of her jaw, his breath in her ear. He kissed the bend between her neck and shoulder, and she trembled as his hands slid down her sides to rest on her hips. Then she turned her face to his to kiss him again, and this time his lips were not so restrained. Her arms slid up around his neck as he pulled her against him and waves of heat surged through her with increasing magnitude. It had been so long since she’d been in a man’s arms, she’ d forgotten how it felt, how completely, deliciously overwhelming it could be.

Finally, he pulled his mouth from hers, kissed her forehead, then stood there, holding her. She laid her head against his shoulder, wishing the moment would never end. But of course all moments ended, and at length, with a sigh of resignation, he released her, stepping back wordlessly as he slid his palms down her bare arms to take her hands.

“You be careful,”
she mouthed.

He smiled crookedly, gave her fingers one last squeeze, and walked away.