Microsoft Word - Rogers, Rosemary - The Crowd Pleasers (55 page)

Anne made an involuntary movement to put her hands over her ears. Was there pity in his eyes or something else? She brought her hands back down to her lap, fingers twisting together. "No-it's not true! How could you .. ."

"He put you under hypnosis, Anne. He regressed you back to your childhood, and once you'd released the memory you'd been trying to shut out, he brought you back with the command to forget. That's when you stopped having the dream. But being a methodical man, he had a tape recorder running. He also made notes. He gave me the cassette to store away in the vault for him-you realize the potential dynamite it contains? I knew about it because-I apologize if you consider it an invasion of your privacy, but I was concerned for you, so I watched and listened on the video monitor."

"You-"

He wouldn't let her finish. He went on inexorably, without pausing: "Webb Carnahan read his notes. We didn't catch that-you were asleep, and we'd switched to another room, I suppose. But he came in and took you back to his room that afternoon, didn't he? We know he read Brightman's notes because he telephoned the information he'd gathered to your,father. And received his orders."

It was incredible, but it made horrible, ugly sense. She remembered her father telling her one night, in Deepwood, "You see, Anne, I have to protect myself, too." If she had to be killed, he wouldn't have any scruple against ordering her execution. To protect himself and the organization he'd built up. Just as he'd killed her mother.

Love-hate-s-hate-love. Some other memory, just as deeply hidden as the one she'd revealed to Hal Brightman, nudged for an instant at the edge of her memory, and she started to say involuntarily, "No, he couldn't have," before it was gone. And Harris was shaking his head.

"Believe me, Anne, I would have spared you this shock if I could have. But if shock is what it takes to remind you that you're in danger .. ."

In danger-in danger. Words repeating themselves in her mind like a clock ticking away time. Her time. In danger from Webb, who was supposed to kill her and hadn't been able to-yet.

Harris was saying something else-she hardly heard him. She had gone alarmingly pale, and he felt a twinge of regret at having to tell it to her so abruptly. But Christ, everything was breaking too suddenly, and Craig Hyatt's arrival last night had brought things to a head with a vengeance. They had to move fast-at once-e-before Reardon did. The damned fire, sending its pall of smoke into the air and closing in fast, didn't heIp matters either. It was time to take the wraps off.

"I HAVE A MESSAGE for you," Anna-Maria said without any preamble. She had awakened him when she came into the room, but Webb had hoped, fuzzily, that she would think he was still sleeping and go away. He had swallowed two of the pain pills that Dr. Brightman had grudgingly allowed him before he could get to sleep-his back had felt, and still felt, as if it had been run over by an electric lawnmower. Shit! He couldn't have slept for any longer than two or three hours, and he wasn't in the mood for pacifying Ria, or answering her inevitable questions.

He grunted unintelligibly as she sat on the edge of his bed, wincing when she put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't pretend to be asleep. And you had better hear what I have to say, for your own sake."

Sunlight filtered through slats in the blinds, falling on her face and hair. There was something feline about her, with her slightly slanted eyes and that mane of tawny hair. A tigress, half-smiling as she looked down at him, but he noticed that her eyes were narrowed on him.

Webb sighed, trying to clear his brain. "All right, Ria. So I'm awake, and I'm listening."

"The message is from Espinoza. He would like to speak with you, in private."

"Private?" Webb pushed himself upright, running fingers through his hair. He cocked an eyebrow in the direction of the hidden camera.

"It's out of order-isn't that strange? Something must have happened during that freak storm we had last night-a shorting of some wires, something wrong with one of the circuits ... There won't be time to have it fixed, though. Everyone is SO scared of that fire they are screaming to Harris to get them away, quickly, quickly!"

"Seems like I've been missing out on all the excitement, doesn't it?"

She leaned forwards, so that her breasts almost brushed his chest. "Oh, but wasn't yesterday exciting enough for you? Did you watch the storm while you were-taking that long, long walk last night?"

He wondered how much she guessed. Not that it mattered. He had gotten quite a lot accomplished last night, as a matter of fact, including the job on the wiring.

He grinned at her, being deliberately provoking. "I started out looking for you, baby.

Missed your warm body next to mine. And then all the damned lights went out and I got myself good and lost."

"You miserable liar!" She jerked erect and swore at him in Spanish, all but spitting the words at him. "Do you think we don't know ... ah, you'd better think up a better story than that, especially if the sheriff should start asking you questions! Yes, you had better have a damn good alibi!"

Even through her anger, she felt a spark of exhilaration when she caught his slight frown, the almost imperceptible hardening of his mouth. Webb was as good at playing this kind of game as she was, but they would see who would win this time!

"Yes," she went on, "I hope for your sake 'that that woman Claudia's story was not true, or that Karim turns up alive. Otherwise you could be in quite a lot of trouble, couldn't you?"

Neat. Very neat. He could see that for himself, after Ria, shrugging skeptically, had explained exactly what she had meant. "And you did swear to kill him-'with my hands,' you said, and that part was not in the script. It is on the sound tape."

"I see." His voice was flat. He watched her as she paced angrily around the room.

"Well, I guess I could say I didn't know what I was doing, huh? After that shot our good doctor gave me, I went out like a light. Or you could alibi me, baby. Like a sweet, obliging little wife."

She turned on him, eyes narrow. "You bastard! You admit -oh, I suppose I am fool enough to do so, but I cannot. Too many other people saw me when I went to eat dinner. And after that I was with Espinoza."

All sewed up, Webb found himself thinking cynically. But he hadn't yet realized just how tightly-not until after he'd had a conversation with Sal Espinoza himself.

His first reaction was rage. He saw them watching him, Espinoza smiling sympathetically as he shook his head; Ria with her cat eyes narrowed, the way she stood by the window giving him the nerve-end impression that she was poised, waiting.

Thrown to the wolves-one of Reardon's chess moves? They knew-they knew almost everything. But why tell him? And why the secret talk with Espinoza?

"I'm listening," Webb said tightly, while his mind raced, finding alternatives and discarding them almost at once.

"Good, I thought you might be-open to reason," Espinoza said smoothly. He went on, his face bland, "Because, after all, we have many friends in common, you and I. It gives us, shall I say, a common cause in some ways? So, I will lay my cards on the table as a mark of my good faith. And I think that after you have heard me out, you will see the advantages of doing the same yourself. Because we also have a common enemy, eh?"

Reardon. Even Craig Hyatt, of all people, had finally turned against Reardon. Hyatt was the leak-and Hyatt knew where they were holding Lucia. If Webb cooperated, Espinoza himself would guarantee her safety and that of her sons.

"Only, you see, we have to move very fast. Before Reardon learns that his right-hand man is now on our side. Before ..."

"Why?" Webb said tightly. "You know so damned much already, why suddenly decide to take me into your confidence?

And what makes you believe Hyatt is on the level?"

"He's impressed by Markham, and getting queasy about some of Reardon's methods. But most of all, he wants to step into Reardon's shoes. Power, my friend, power! Haven't we all felt that particular hunger? And I would, frankly, much prefer to have you working with us. I don't want to jeopardize certain dealings I have with your-um-family. So?"

"That's all? And how's Harris Phelps going to take all this? You know, somehow I get the impression that Phelps doesn't like me-much."

"Harris is still a partner, of course. We have not had a falling out, if that is what you are thinking. But unfortunately ..."

"He used to be the one who thought most clearly, and without the clutter of emotion to cloud his judgment!" Ria whirled on them both, her eyes blazing. "But somehow he has developed a stupid weakness for that whey-faced bitch! Reardon's daughter-the same one you go sniffing after! What is there about her that makes all you men so protective? She could not have survived for more than a few minutes what I have been through. She's weak, and Harris has been foolish enough to tell her too much. If our plans are to succeed, we cannot have any weak links, don't you see that? Would Reardon himself hesitate if she or anyone else got in the wav?"

This was yet another Ria-tough, her voice almost strident as she stood before Webb with her hands on her hips, her chin thrust out defiantly. At last he was seeing her real self. She went on talking, while Espinoza, shrugging, let her have the floor; and it came to him with a sense of cold detachment, even before she had finished, exactly what kind of "insurance" he was to provide them with in exchangc for Lucy's safety and his own immunity.

"Are you in love with her, too, Webb? Perhaps you'll change your mind when I show you certain videotapes-your sweet little Anne with Karim, letting him do anything and everything to her, and enjoying it-yes, enjoying it! Did you believe her little story of being raped by him in front of the cameras, eh? Did you ever have to rape her, even though she made a game of pretending she was unwilling? You men are all fools!

And you went to her last night, didn't you? You had sex with her-I knew it as soon as I saw her face this morning."

"Shut up, Ria!" He spoke roughly to her, knowing it was the kind of language she understood best. "Sure, I dropped in on Anne last night. What the hell does it matter if I tell you now -I fixed that damn video monitor because I got tired of Big Brother watching me all the time. And I figured she might provide me with an alibi. But don't give me that crap about being in love with her, for Christ's sake. I'm not in the habit of falling in love with every broad I fuck. And"-he narrowed his eyes at Ria-"you forget, sweetheart, that she is goddamned Reardon's daughter, and I have no reason in the world to love that cold-blooded bastard. But when he arranged to have my sister and nephews snatched ..."

"Then-kill her! Get rid of her, and prove it! You could make it seem like an accident-you could think of something, couldn't you? Both Sal and I would swear we were with you all the time, and even Harris wouldn't have to know. He'll come to his senses again once that bitch is out of the way."

"Look-" He made his voice cold, devoid of emotion. "Look, you figure out a way. You get your pretty little head to work on a real neat, tidy way to eliminate her, where I can be damned positive I have an alibi, and I'll take the contract."

Barstow was working late again, which wasn't unusual, especially when something really big was brewing. In any case, he had nothing to go home to. He'd never married. Wives-kids-they left you too damned vulnerable in his line of work. And when he needed a woman, it was easy enough to find one, especially in Washington, who was willing to be wined and dined and taken to bed. Not that he'd had too much time for even that small form of relaxation recently.

He heard the general clear his throat in warning, and looked up from the papers on his desk with an inward sigh. It was unusual for General Tarrant to be here so late, and he didn't like cooling his heels. He'd been stomping around the tiny office ever since he had arrived, bushy brows drawn together in a frown as he glared at the small red light that meant Reardon was on his private telephone, the Red Line, and was not to be disturbed.

Now he glared at the long-suffering Barstow instead. The general was in dress uniform, his neck above his uniform collar turning red, a big vein standing out on his forehead as it always did when he was angry. "All right, goddammit! You dragged me away from a reception for Markham, and I had a hell of a time getting away. And explaining to my wife. I've been waiting exactly ten minutes already, and you sit there shuffling papers while he"-here his stubby finger jabbed in the direction of the door leading to the inner office--"sits on the blasted telephone! What the fuck is going on?

Has he told you yet? And where the hell is Hyatt? I'd have thought he'd be here, too."

Barstow leaned back in his chair and shrugged. He was tired; it had been a long day.

And he was slightly worried, although he didn't like to admit that, even to himself, He supposed that Tarrant was entitled to some answers, before Reardon filled him in on the rest.

"Hyatt's in Monterey. Actually, on an island off the Big Sur coast." He forestalled the general's angry expletive by saying patiently, "He's the only one who has a damn good excuse for going there, after all. Anne Mallory's his ex-wife, and they're still on pretty good terms. He's also her attorney. I understand he called and got himself invited down. They don't know anything more about him than that, and since Carnahan thinks they're on to him ..."

"Christ! I hope to hell there are no slipups! You've been reading those goddamn editorials lately, haven't you? And that snooping columnist fellow, with his hints of imminent exposures that will shake up people in high places ... The reception I had to leave tonight was for Markham, you know! He's getting very sure of himself. Press all over the place, as usual, and he was hinting he was preparing a big speech that might shock a few people. Know anything about that?"

"Gentlemen." They both looked up, and Reardon stood in the doorway, his ascetic, unlined face showing no emotion at all as he courteously inclined his head. "If you'll come in ..."