Glass Houses (26 page)

Fats controlled an urge to grin. His dick was already looking at the sky and ready to fly a flag. “We’d better hope for a big room,” he said nonchalantly. “It’s going to get cozy with four of us.”

“We’ll get two rooms and I’
ll be next door to you. See to it. Make sure there’s a plug for my laptop.” He had a disk to play just to get in the mood for anything that came his way. “We don’t want to risk me being seen if the two stooges show up, remember? They don’t think I’m anywhere near, and I want it that way until I’m ready to surprise them.”

“Those fools?” Kitty said. “They’ll never find us now.”

“I want them to find us. First we make sure Flynn tells us where the woman is, then we wait for the guys from London to arrive. Flynn doesn’t necessarily have to be around for that. He thinks he’s so tough. I’ll enjoy finding out just how tough he is.” He took a knife from his pocket, flicked it open, and tested the blade on his thumb.

Fats felt the ripple of Kitty’s climax and marveled at her ability to sit still and not make a sound. He said, “I don’t think I know what you have in mind for Moody and Fish.”

“Of course you know,” Ryan said, squinting to see an upcoming signboard. “I don’t want to risk a murder rap, but I want Flynn dead. I’ve got a big enough beef with him to want him real dead. I’m going to have Rupert and Winston do that little job for me—after I get him ready.”

B
obby Mobo’s wasn’t the kind of place where the desk clerk asked if you needed help with your baggage. The man had asked Olivia how long she needed the room for. Flustered, she’d said, “Just one night, please.”

To which he’d replied, “A long one, huh,” and given her a grin that made her itch.

The room smelled strongly of cheap perfume and disinfectant. Olivia stood up as long as she could, but eventually sat on a wooden chair beside a chipped vanity. She held the keys to the Rover and Aiden’s phone on her lap. She’d also earned his jacket with her because it brought some comfort. Her bag was on the floor beside her.

Predictably, when the phone rang she jumped hard. But she got it turned on in record time. “Hello?” she said.

“Olivia, this is Vanni. Gimme Aiden.”

“He’s not—”

“Goddammit! Tell the bastard to keep his mind on the job. I’ve got trouble here, and I don’t need any extra irritation.”

Olivia felt as if she, personally, had done something wrong. “I’m sorry, Vanni, but there was nothing I could do to stop him.”

“Hold,” Vanni said and she heard him talking to someone in the background. When he came back on, he kept his voice lowered. “I’m at the hospital. My grandfather's been admitted.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Olivia said. “He’s a dear man.”

“He’s an ornery old devil, but he’s my grandfather. If he dies becau
se they won’t operate, I…
I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Perhaps they really can’t operate,” Olivia said.

“Sure they can, if the price is right. That means these
greedy bastards want enough to buy another island somewhere.”

The transmission was breaking up. “Vanni, we’ve got to be quick. Aiden was knocked unconscious and taken away. I’m almost sure Fats was one of the people in the vehicle, but there was another man and a woman I hadn’t seen before.”

“Oh, my, God,” he said. “If he
…
” Vanni’s voice was cut off.

“Hello?” she said. “Hello, Vanni?”

“Yeah.” He sounded very faint. “Where’s Boss? Running loose?”

“No,” Olivia told him. “I don’t know. He foll
owed Aiden and jumped in the tru
ck with him. I’m afraid those people will shoot him.”

“Son of a bitch,” Vanni said. “What a mess. Get that phone charged. I’ll call back later. I’m going to have to come to—”

“Vanni,” she cried, “Chris—”

“Sure,” Vanni said. “I know, don’t worry, you’ll be okay. So will Aiden. Mama said I should tell you—”

That was that, the battery failed, and she didn't have the vaguest notion where the charger was. Probably in the Rover, but she didn’t want to leave the room until Chris arrived. And now he wouldn’t be able to reach her on the cell phone.

The room was on the second floor. Olivia went to the window and looked down on the parking lot. Cars, trucks, and motorcycles arrived constantly. People ducked and ran through rain to the building. She could feel a base thundering somewhere below her. The Rover was parked closer now, barely on the other side of the ridge, and she’d locked everything in the boot. She wished she and Aiden had bought some food. Chocolate, anything would do. They hadn’t thought about it.

She returned to the chair and tried to keep her feet still. They didn’t want to remain on the floor. What was happening no longer felt like an imaginary adventure. This was real. She was scared, but she still wasn’t sorry she’d come. If she’d
remained in London, she would never have met Aiden Flynn and she didn’t even want to think about that.

Penny Biggies had a way of analyzing Olivia. According to Penny, her friend was a war victim, a victim of a quietly defiant war between her parents.

Bunk.

It was true that Mummy and Daddy disliked each other. In the years of their marriage, Daddy had only sharpened his gift for the genteel insult, while Mummy’s skills as a bombastic whiner were probably the best to be found in any human being. And Olivia’s parents had used their children as a buffer between them.

The FitzDurhams liked to tell their daughter she wasn’t capable and shouldn’t be on her own because she needed to be looked after. Sometimes she wondered if they might be right-like now, when she ought to be able to make decisions without waiting for help. And that’s what Daddy would say, that she was proving how right he was to want her at home. Mummy and Daddy didn't approve of the photography either. They had told her how “silly” they thought it was.

But they were wrong. So was Penny. It had been a struggle, but Olivia hadn’t let her parents ruin her self-confidence. She’d broken away from them to find her own way, and she had the makings of a good career. And she would never return home to live. The idea appalled her.

She found the bulky envelope of photographs she had with her and spread them on the bed. In addition to putting on her glasses, she located a magnifying glass. The other envelope, the one containing the money and checks, was also in the bag. Olivia pulled it out and glanced at the checks. The sums were as huge as she’d remembered.

Mr. Fish had posted them in her letterbox by mistake.

The dry-cleaning receipt was for a shop in Belgravia. As for the theater ticket, he had been to a cinema that showed pornographic films. Olivia didn’t even recognize the address.

Again, there were no clues there.

Kneeling, she pored over the photos. Walls covered with
paintings. Art Deco furnishings. Extraordinary rugs. A little whimsy here and there. Sculptures, some of them dreck, some exquisite.

She couldn’t ignore the furnishings. Since Fish and Moody were antique dealers, it was to be supposed that they dealt in more furniture than art. Not necessarily, but in the absence of knowing for sure, every possibility must be examined. The Art Deco furnishings weren’t reproductions.

Olivia started from the beginning, studying even more slowly. From time to time she got up and went to the window. She had no idea what Chris Talon looked like, but somehow she expected to know him. The rain had turned to sleet that
fl
ew directly toward her and made minuscule icy halos against the encroaching darkness.

She put her nose to the window, and a cloud of fog blossomed on the glass. Her glasses fuzzed up everything. Aiden was somewhere out there, and he wasn’t with friends. What did she know about him? Almost nothing. He was an only child His parents were dead. He was shy around women.

Now there was an interesting observation she hadn’t even recognized before. How could she think that a man capable of making love the way he did was shy? Because there was a reticence about him, a watchfulness when he looked at her. It fell away when they—had fallen away when they’d been together.

Oh, really, she had been shameless, and enjoyed it.

Olivia returned to the bed. She was ambivalent about most of the paintings she’d photographed in Notting Hill, although a Kandinsky that was a study for another work charmed her. The next shot was of what she supposed would also be called nonobjective, a piece heavy with brilliant geometric splashes of color and apparently random lines. She tried for the spiritual meaning, the intuitive response devotees of the form spoke of. Perhaps she was old fashioned but all she saw was red and purple, lavender and pink. But then, a sculpture made of mirrors and granite and with a many-angled surface like framed blocks of rock candy entranced her,
and it was certainly very modern
.

A sorcerer’s palace, or perhaps a house of glass for someone with nothing to hide.

There wasn’t a single incriminating piece of evidence in any of these. She shuffled them together like cards. When they were buried at the bottom of her bag with the negatives once more, she felt safer.

She used a hand to scoop water from the faucet to her mouth and peered into the mirror over the sink. Nothing would help the way she looked. Olivia grinned. She looked awful.

“Olivia?” A voice whispered very close to the door.

Her bag was hooked over her arm. She let it slip to the threadb
are green carpet, kicked it gentl
y under the bed, and took a step backward, away from the door.

A light, steady tapping began.

“Chris,” she said, but couldn’t even hear her own voice. Very cautiously, she approached, listening. She must learn to be cautious and smart. She didn’t know who was out there.

“Olivia?”

“Yes?”

“We don’t want to attract attention here.”

With her heart punching at her eardrums, Olivia unlocked the door and pulled it open enough to give her a clear view of a good slice of corridor. Empty corridor.

Blood receded from her brain fast enough to make her feel faint.

She slammed the door.

Slammed it against a black shoe.

“Go away,” she said, as loudly as she could manage. “I’ll call the police.”

The door opened with enough force to knock Olivia onto her bottom, then smashed against the wall. She opened her mouth to yell, but not a sound came out.

A windswept, dark-haired man holding a gun ste
pped over her. “Don’t move,”
he said and toured the room and bathroom, where he repeated his shattering entry. A ripping sound jarred her all over again. If the shower curtain hadn’t been to
rn
from the rod, she’d be amazed.

Finally this human whirlwind in a dark suit, white shirt with tie dangling, and mud spattering the lower halves of his trouser legs relaxed a little. He didn’t put the awful gun away, but he did stop gliding about and making a lot of unpleasant noise.

He closed the room door quite gently and locked it.

Olivia swallowed. He had greenish eyes and black eyebrows that flared. And he was so big. And he stood over her, staring as if she were an enormous puzzle.

“Don’t just sit there,” he said.
“
We’ve got places to go.”

She had no choice but to let him pull her to her feet.

"I’m Chris Talon,” he said.

“Yes. Thank you for coming.”

He looked her over again and shook his head. "I’m gonna have to have Sonnie talk to you. There are some rules about these things, and something tells me you don’t know any of them.”

“
What things?” She didn’t like his disapproving expression.

“Man-woman things,” he said.

She didn’t need a lecture on the birds and the bees from Chris Talon, and keeping her dignity was essential. “Let’s decide on the best thing to do. Aiden’s cell phone battery’s dead, and I don’t know where the charger is. Vanni’s going to call back, and he won’t be able to reach us.”

“
Leave that to me. You ever ridden a Harley?”

Olivia frowned.

“Motorcycle. Big motorcycle.”

She shook her head emphatically. “Never. I absolutely would not want to.”

“You’re absolutely going to have to. I borrowed one from a friend in Chicago. First things first. I’ve got to check distances around here, and possible places they might take Aiden. They won’t have gone far.”

“How do you know that?”

Chris sighed and patted her shoulder.
“
Because you’re here. Unless Aiden’s got everything wrong, it’s you they’re after,
you and what you have, or know. They’ll hole up and figure out how to use him to get at you. Only we’re going to get to them first.”

He pulled maps from his inside coat pockets and opened them one on top of another on the bed. She stood close beside him.

Chris turned his head toward Olivia. “I’m gonna give you one piece of advice I know Sonnie would approve of. Don’t let Aiden pick out your clothes again.”