Vengeance (18 page)

"John Fairchild's your son?"

Delacroix nodded, running a hand through his hair. The gesture reminded me of Lucinda with her bouncing curls and nervous energy. "His mother died when John was five years old. Two years later I married Ariadne and we started our own family. John took his mother's name when he became an adult. I think he was hurt that I remarried so soon after his mother died." Delacroix tilted his head, shadows in the room hiding the expression in his eyes. "My children are in trouble, Mr. Haidess. And I know you've been hired to kill Lucinda. Why?"

I stalled for time, sipping my whiskey. "I'm not sure. I was told she's been consorting with terrorists and the lab is involved in something that threatens the country's security."

Delacroix stared at me in disbelief. "And you believed that? Lucinda would never be involved in anything that harmed another human being."

I held up a hand. "Once I met her, I knew it was a lie." I rolled some whisky on my tongue, savoring the taste. "If Meyer is involved with another government then that definitely widens the possibilities. It has to be something to do with the drug he's working on. I wonder if someone else from my agency is assigned to kill Meyer." Before I could pursue this line of thought, my headset buzzed. "Answer," I murmured.

Parker Madison's voice echoed in my ear. "Mr. Haidess, can we talk?"

Delacroix watched me expectantly. I touched a control button on my chair. "Yes, we can, Parker." It was an impulsive move on my part, but I wanted Delacroix to know what we were facing. "Is there a problem, Parker?"

"You sounded unsure of yourself when we talked earlier. I wanted to be certain you understand. It has to happen on Friday."

Delacroix's head snapped up and he stared at me, stunned. "Why?" I asked. "Why Friday? Why Lucinda Delacroix?"

There was a long pause. "You've never questioned a target before."

"It was always obvious before." I took a sip of whisky. "Terrorists, corrupt officials, rebel leaders--it always made sense. This doesn't make sense."

I could easily imagine the suspicion in Parker's dark hazel eyes. "I'm afraid you're going to have to trust me on this."

I laughed out loud. "You know as well as I do that trust isn't my strong point. What aren't you telling me, Parker?"

"Do you remember Bogotá?" There was an odd inflection in his voice, an intensity I'd never heard before.

Of course I remembered. Six years earlier, Parker almost died there and I had been hard-pressed to hide my immortality when he and I were caught in an ambush as we left a job on a presidential candidate. I got Parker out of there and it was that adventure that convinced him to "retire" to a desk job.

"Yes," I said. "Why? Are there similarities to this case?"

"The similarity lies in the conclusion."

I glanced across the room. Cerberus was watching me, his pale eyes ghostly in the dim light. "I see." I held up a hand when Delacroix looked like he would speak. "I'll take that into consideration, but I can't make any promises."

"I understand. Call me later. We'll discuss it in more detail if you have concerns."

"I'll do that. Good night, Parker. Thank you."

He hesitated. "I told you once I was a banker. Good night, Nico."

I broke the connection. Delacroix sprang to his feet. "Friday? You're supposed to kill her on Friday?" Before I could speak, he snapped, "What was all that about a banker? And Bogotá?"

"Parker and I got into trouble in Bogotá. I saved his life. He told me his father was as moral as a banker, so Parker learned to always pay his debts. He paid part of his debt to me tonight by warning me that someone is going to ambush me and I need to watch my back." I drummed my fingers on the arm of my chair. "This goes very high up."

I told you
, Cerberus said.
We need to look at who wants you close to Meyer and why
.

"You won't do it, will you?"

"What?" I swallowed the last of my whisky.

"I saw the way you looked at her," Delacroix said. His gray eyes watched me as I fidgeted in my chair. "I saw how you feel. You care for her."

"Feel?" I shot to my feet and went to the kitchen for a refill. He followed me, pausing by the kitchen counter to watch as I reached for the bottle. "I just met your daughter a day ago. I don't feel anything except a slight curiosity about why the hell someone wants her dead so badly." I poured whisky into my glass. As I turned I saw
The Velveteen Rabbit
on the counter. The worn stuffed bunny in the cover illustration looked at me accusingly. I turned the small book over. "If I don't do it, someone else will. The agency won't let this go."

Delacroix stared at me. "Then you'll just have to stop them, won't you?"

 I got rid of Delacroix by promising I'd keep him apprised of everything that affected Lucinda. I was lying, but he seemed willing to believe me. As soon as he left, I set the alarms and took a shower, sluicing away the blood and sweat. I examined the wounds in the bright light of the bathroom. Both were already healing, although the wound in my side was inflamed. It hurt to take a deep breath and I knew I'd be bruised for days.

I dressed in a clean pair of sweats and took a bottle of Maker's Mark into my office where I lit the fire and sat in an armchair, staring out into the night. I was a shell full of memories, a phantom in my own home. Nothing--and everything--was real. Cerberus followed me, subdued and silent, settling in front of the fire and staring at me with his pale, ghostly eyes.

I tried to put my memories in chronological order, but I got ill whenever I recalled Lucinda in her 18th century dress, her gray eyes alight with fear. I remembered it all--her foolish brother who got into trouble with the American authorities, her family who lost everything in the War for Independence. I remembered making love with her in my cramped room at the inn where I stayed. I begged her to marry me and return to England, where I was in business with my father. She promised she would, but she betrayed me instead, turning me into the American patriots in place of her brother, who had spied for the British.

I downed a tumbler full of liquor then got up and walked, moving through darkened rooms like the specter I was. She had knelt beside me, cradling me in her arms as I died. Dear God, I remembered dying. I remembered the fear as the realization soaked in then the calmness as I was swept away. I was...gone for some indeterminate length of time. The next thing I remembered was my childhood in England, in the 2150s. My first clear recollection was a picnic on the moors, being carried by my father. My other father.

She didn't know what to do.

I turned so fast I bumped into the dresser, knocking over the small sketch I'd made of my home in Cornwall, seventeen decades in the future. Pain flared from my bruised side and I cursed at the reminder of Meyer.

Cerberus stared at me from the hallway. Somehow I'd ended up in my bedroom. I stumbled into the attached bathroom, managing to set my glass on the side of the sink before running cold water and splashing my face. "She could have asked me. I would have helped her."

Her family was in danger. Her brother told her--

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it. She betrayed me and had me killed."

Well, you repaid the favor, didn't you?

"What are you talking about?" I wiped my face with a hand towel, avoiding the mirror. I didn't want to see my bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair. When I grabbed my glass, sticky alcohol spilled over my hand.

Cerberus jumped out of my way as I strode past.
You didn't protect Persa and she died.

I turned slowly. "Robert Meyer killed Persa."

I could barely see him in the dim light. Cerberus stood in the middle of the hall, a halo of light from the staircase surrounding him. He was enormous, filling the small space with a hundred-plus pounds of muscle and fur.
But you knew Meyer was dangerous. The History Patrol warned you about him. They said to be careful. When they sent you back to get him, they told you he was desperate. Why did you let Persa go in first? Why did you let her do the scout work that night? You knew she was afraid. Of course, now you know why she was so nervous--she was returning to the site and time of her betrayal. She knew her redemption or rejection was at hand. All she had to do was wait until it was revealed to you and she'd find out if she was forgiven. She was murdered instead.

Damn the dog. He was asking the same questions that haunted me. "How do you know so much about it?" I took a step toward him.

I told you. I'm here on special assignment.
He bared his teeth.
Stay away
.

"I don't believe this bullshit about a special assignment." I took another step in his direction and he growled low in his throat. "I want some answers. Now."

He growled again. His pale blue eyes shone. I took a step back.
Be careful what you ask for
, he said in a low, rasping voice.
You might not like what you get
.

We stared at each other in the dim light. He looked as tense as I felt, his big paws planted solidly apart and his head lowered as he gazed at me with unwavering, unreadable eyes. He was hiding some fundamental secret and I longed to shake the truth out of him.

I jerked away to the loft that overlooked my office. As I staggered down the spiral stair, I saw the toy train sitting in the stationhouse at the foot of the steps. I considered kicking it but at the last minute I stepped over it, then dropped into a wingback chair and picked up my bottle. Cerberus peered at me through the ornate metal rail that protected the loft from the floor below. He didn't speak and neither did I.

One or maybe two drinks later, Lucinda called. I considered not answering, but when I heard her voice, I knew I had to talk to her. "Yes?"

"Nico? Is that you? It's Lucinda Delacroix."

I swallowed the liquor in my glass and poured another tumbler full. "I'm here."

"Am I interrupting something? Can you talk?"

All I could think of was betrayal. She betrayed me twice--once in 1790, when she led me to my death at the hands of American patriots. And once just weeks ago, when she slept with Robert Meyer. No, I couldn't talk. Rage filled me, fueled by alcohol.

"I wanted to know what you thought of Robert's proposal. Have you had a chance to look through it?"

"I've been busy." I heard the curt dismissal in my voice but I couldn't help myself.

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry. I should have known...I mean, you're a busy person, of course." She hesitated. "I just wanted to talk to you about it. I still can't believe that--"

"Are you sure your reaction to his proposal isn't caused by your personal problems?"

There was a long silence. "What personal problems?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I'm afraid I don't." She sounded defensive now.

I could visualize her small, square chin jutting out in defiance. "Did you and Robert Meyer have an affair?"

Cerberus loped down the steps, sliding on the Peruvian throw rug to skid to a halt near the fireplace.
I can't believe you're accusing her of this. You have no proof. You should trust her
.

Shut up
.

"Meyer?"

I could hear the confusion in her voice and that confused me until I remembered. I took another drink. "Masterson. Robert Masterson."

"You said Meyer."

"I meant Masterson. Is there a reason you didn't tell me?"

"Meyer...that sounds familiar."

"You slept with him. Why didn't you tell me?" I was so angry I could barely talk.

"Why did you call him Meyer?" she countered.

"Why aren't you denying it?" I gulped down the whisky, choking when I swallowed wrong.

"Why are you asking me?" Her voice was decidedly cool now.

"I think I have a right to know if you're being motivated by something other than good business sense." I wanted to hit my head as soon as I spoke the words. I sounded pompous, even to myself.

"That's why I hired you, isn't it?" Her tone was frosty now. "You're my so-called business advisor. It's up to you to watch out for my best interests. It's up to you to be objective and level-headed about this."

"And I will be. But I think you owe me--"

"I don't owe you anything. I barely know you and we share nothing except a temporary business relationship. If that arrangement isn't satisfactory for you, we can terminate it at any time. I'm sure I can hire someone else to advise me."

"Fine. I'll return the prospectus to you tomorrow."

"Thank you. You can leave it at the front desk at the office."

I winced as the sound of the phone being slammed down echoed in my headset. I tore it off and tossed it toward the desk, missing by a mile. "Damn that woman." I glared at Cerberus, lurking in the shadows of the room. "Don't say anything."