The Ugly Duckling (5 page)

Unless she was more than she appeared. Possibly. She seemed as meek as a lamb, but she’d had the guts to toss him out of her daughter’s room.

Everyone fought back if the battle was important enough. And it was important for Nell Calder not to
share her daughter with him. No, the list must mean something else. When he went back downstairs, he would stay close to Kavinski.

She was singing to the kid. He had always liked lullabies. There was a reassuring continuity about them that had been missing in his own life. Since the dawn of time, mothers had sung to their children, and they, would probably still be singing to them a thousand years from now.

The song ended with a low chuckle and a murmur he couldn’t hear.

She came out of the bedroom and closed the door a few minutes later. She was flushed and glowing with an expression as soft as melted butter.

“I’ve never heard that lullaby before,” he said.

She looked startled, as if she’d forgotten he was still there. “It’s very old. My grandmother used to sing it to me.”

“Is your daughter asleep?”

“No, but she will be soon. I started the music box for her again. By the time it finishes, she usually nods off.”

“She’s a beautiful child.”

“Yes.” A luminous smile turned her plain face radiant once more. “Yes, she is.”

He stared at her, intrigued. He found he wanted to keep that smile on her face. “And bright?”

“Sometimes too bright. Her imagination can be troublesome. But she’s always reasonable and you can talk to—” She broke off and her eagerness faded. “But
this can’t interest you. I forgot the tray. I’ll go back for it.”

“Don’t bother. You’ll disturb Jill. The maid can pick it up in the morning.”

She gave him a level glance. “That’s what I told you.”

He smiled. “But then I didn’t want to listen. Now it makes perfect sense to me.”

“Because it’s what you want to do.”

“Exactly.”

“I have to go back too. I haven’t met Kavinski yet.” She moved toward the door.

“Wait. I think you’ll want to remove that chocolate from your gown first.”

“Damn.” She frowned as she looked down at the stain on the skirt. “I forgot.” She turned toward the bathroom and said dryly, “Go on. I assure you I don’t need your help with this problem.”

He hesitated.

She glanced at him pointedly over her shoulder.

He had no excuse for staying, not that that small fact would have deterred him.

But he also had no reason. He had lived by his wits too long not to trust his instincts, and this woman wasn’t a target of any sort. He should be watching Kavinski.

He turned toward the door. “I’ll tell the maid you’re ready for her to come back.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” she said automatically as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Good manners obviously instilled from childhood. Loyalty. Gentleness. A nice woman whose world was centered on that sweet kid. He had definitely drawn a blank.

The maid wasn’t waiting in the hallway. He’d have to send up one of the servants from downstairs.

He moved quickly through the corridors and started down the staircase.

Shots
.

Coming from the ballroom.

Christ.

He tore down the stairs.

E
xplosions.

Firecrackers, Nell thought absently. Sally had told her there would be a fireworks display to crown the evening. She must have stayed upstairs longer than she had thought. Sally would not be pleased.

The stain wasn’t too bad. Thank God for the miracle of carbonated water. She had been afraid she would have to change. She dabbed carefully at the chocolate smear.

She heard a door shut in the sitting room.

The maid. What was her name? Hera. “I’m in the bathroom. I’ll be leaving in a moment, Hera. I managed to smudge my—” She looked up.

A face in the mirror—pale, shimmering, distorted.

“What—”

The glimmer of steel, an arm lifting.

A knife.

She whirled as the knife descended.

Pain.

The knife was wrenched from her shoulder and plunged down again.

He must be a thief. “No—jewels. Please.”

The dagger entered her again, this time carving her upper arm. She could see the attacker’s lips drawn back from his teeth through the stocking mask. Not a thief. He was enjoying this, she realized in horror. He was toying with her. He liked to see her pain and helplessness.

The blood was running down her arm and the pain was so intense it was making her sick.

Why was he doing this?

She was going to die.

Jill.

Jill was in the next room. If she died, she couldn’t keep him from hurting Jill.

He was raising the knife again.

She kneed him in the groin.

He grunted in agony and doubled over.

She pushed past him. He felt strange, rubbery against her body. She staggered into the sitting room. Her knees were shaking. She was going to fall.

“Bitch.” He was right behind her.

She had to have a weapon. No weapons.

She yanked out the cord of the lamp on the table beside her. She threw the lamp at him.

He deflected it with one arm. He kept coming.

She backed away from him. Didn’t they tell you your best defense was to scream?

She screamed.

“Go ahead. No one will hear you. No one will help you.”

He was right. The firecrackers and cries from downstairs were too loud.

She was standing by the French doors that led to the balcony. She tore down the beige silk drapes and tossed them over his head. She heard him cursing as she darted past him.

Almost past him.

He freed himself in time to grab her arm and jerk her to her knees. He raised the knife again.

She lunged upward, her head striking him in the stomach.

His grasp loosened and she wrenched free.

“Mama.”

Oh, God, Jill was standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

“Stay away, baby.”

The balcony. If she could lure him out onto the balcony, Jill might be able to escape.

Her fist lashed out and connected with his cheek. She whirled and ran out onto the balcony.

He followed her.

“Run, Jill. Go to Daddy.”

Jill was crying. She wanted to comfort her. “Run, bab—”

The knife. Stabbing. Pain.

Fight him.

Weak.

Strike out. Hurt him.

Give Jill time to get away. Run.

No place to run.

The balustrade stone hard and cold against her spine.

Make him fall. Make him fall over the balcony. Her arms clutched desperately at his shoulders as she tried to turn him.

“Oh, no, you stupid whore.” He broke free and shoved her over the balustrade.

She was screaming.

Falling.

Dying.

N
icholas fought his way through the panicked guests pouring out of the ballroom into the foyer.

He grabbed Sally Brenden’s arm as she ran past. “What happened?”

“Let me go.” Her eyes were glittering with terror. “Crazy. They killed them. Crazy.”

His hand tightened on her arm. “Who fired the shots?”

“How should I know?” She turned to a heavyset man who had emerged from the ballroom. “Martin!”

Martin Brenden was pale and sweating. “Kavinski’s down. And two others. And I saw Richard fall. They shot Richard.”

“How many are they?” Nicholas asked. “Where are the shots coming from?”

“Outside through the window,” Martin said. “Kavinski’s bodyguards are after them.” He grabbed his wife’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

“How could this happen?” Sally asked dazedly. “My wonderful party …”

“They’ll be found.” He patted her arm. “Kavinski had two men posted at the dock. They’ll never get away from the island.”

She let him lead her away. “My party …”

Nicholas pushed through the crowd to the front door.

Two men running, their bodies lean and darkly gleaming in the moonlight. Wet suits.

They weren’t heading for the docks but toward the far end of the island.

Of course, not the docks. Gardeaux would have found a way to avoid that trap after the targets were hit.

Target.

Nell Calder
.

He whirled and ran back into the palace.

“Christ. Look at her face. She’s a monster.”

Nadine’s voice.

I saw a monster
.

Jill had said that. Everyone was seeing monsters.

“Goddammit, don’t just stand there. Get that doctor who’s tending Kavinski. She needs help more than he does.”

Richard? No, the voice was rougher, harder. Tanek. Strange that she would recognize his voice in the darkness.

She tried to open her eyes. Yes, Tanek. No longer elegant, blood-spattered, coatless. Was he hurt?

“Blood …”

“Be quiet. You’ll be fine.” His gaze held hers fiercely. “I promise you. You’re not going to die.”

Nadine was crying. “The poor thing. Oh, God, I have to throw up.”

“Then go and throw up,” Tanek said coldly. “But get the doctor for her first.”

She must be the one who was hurt.

Falling.

Dying.

Shouldn’t Richard be here if she was dying? She wanted to see Jill.

“Jill …”

“Shh,” Tanek said. “You’ll be fine.”

Something was wrong. No, everything was wrong. She was dying and there was no one here who cared.

Only this stranger. Only Tanek.

“I
’ve been watching the telly,” Jamie Reardon said as soon as he picked up the phone. “You seem to have been having a busy evening, Nick. So Kavinski was the target?”

“I don’t know. The bodyguard was hit too. Maybe Kavinski was an accident.”

“How did they manage to get on the island?”

“Through a sea passage that empties out into the caves at the far end of the island. They anchored a few miles offshore and used wet suits and scuba equipment to swim into one of those caves. What’s the news report?”

“That terrorists from Kavinski’s country staged a raid and an assassination attempt, and five innocent bystanders were killed.”

“Four. The woman is still alive. Barely. She was stabbed three times and fell from a balcony. She’s smashed all to hell and on her way to a hospital in Athens. There was a doctor at the party and he says she’ll probably survive if shock doesn’t kill her. I need you to arrange for a private plane. We’re taking her back to the States for treatment.”

Jamie whistled. “Kabler isn’t going to like that. He’s going to want to talk to her.”

“Screw Kabler.”

“And what about next of kin? Can you get permission?”

“Her husband was one of the innocent bystanders. He’s on his way to the morgue. Get Conner to falsify documents to prove you’re her brother and get Lieber to call the hospital. Someone there will have heard of him.”

“Why Lieber?”

“It’ll seem the most logical. She looks as if every bone in her face is smashed.”

“Why was Richard Calder killed? He wasn’t on the list.”

“Neither was his four-year-old daughter.”

“Jesus.”

Nicholas shut his eyes to close out the vision that had met him when he had looked down from the balcony. It didn’t help. It was there before him anyway. “I fouled up, Jamie. I thought it was a wild-goose chase.”

“You’re not the only one. Kabler decided to pass too.”

“I didn’t pass. I was here. I could have stopped it.”

“By yourself?”

“I could have warned her. She was crazy about the kid. She might have listened.”

“And she might have thought you were nuts. You’ll never know. If she was mixed up with Gardeaux, any blame lies with her.” He paused. “Do you need help getting off the island?”

“Not if I leave now. Kabler’s not here yet. I’ve already talked to the local gendarmes and I’m free to go. I’ll meet you at the airport.” He hung up the phone.

June 5
Minneapolis, Minnesota

Joel Lieber met them at the airport with an ambulance and a scowl. “I told you I didn’t want to become involved with this business, Nicholas. I’m too busy to deal with men like Kabler. They interfere with my—Be careful!” He turned toward the paramedics who were unloading the stretcher. “No jarring. How many times must I tell you that there must be no jarring.” Following the stretcher to the ambulance, he tossed back over his shoulder, “Go to my office. I’ll see you there after I’ve examined her. Has she regained consciousness?”

“Only once right after we found her. The knife wounds aren’t deep, but she has a broken arm and clavicle. The emergency room in Athens set those breaks, but I told them to leave her face alone.”

“So that I could have that dubious honor,” Joel said sarcastically. “Along with all the grief from Kabler that goes with it.”

“I’ll stand between you and Kabler.”

“You mean you’ll try. He’s already called me twice today. It seems he didn’t approve of me aiding the illegal transporting of a material witness.”

“She needed you, Joel.”

“The whole world needs me,” he said with a sigh. “It’s the bane of being brilliant.” He got into the ambulance. “Unfortunately, I’m only Superman, I’m not God. I’ll let you know later today if I can help her.”

“I
think the only degree he doesn’t have is for veterinary surgery.” Jamie’s gaze was fixed on the diplomas and awards on the wall of Lieber’s office. “I wonder how he missed that one.”

“He knows enough to get by. He set Sam’s leg once when it was caught in a coyote trap.”

“You mean he leaves all this adulation to visit you in the backwoods?”

“Even Superman gets tired of being stroked.”

“Only occasionally.” Joel Lieber strode into the office, tossed his briefcase on the desk, and dropped into the leather executive chair. “Worship is the food and drink that nourishes genius. I prescribe a daily mega-dose of it for myself.”

“I can understand that,” Jamie said.

“How’s business at the pub?” Joel asked.