The Ugly Duckling (2 page)

June 4
Athens

Tanek wasn’t pleased.

Conner could tell as he watched Nicholas Tanek stride out of customs. Tanek’s expression was impassive, but Conner had known him long enough to read his body language. Tanek’s power and presence were always evident, but not the impatience.

It had better be good
, Tanek had told him.

It wasn’t good, but it was all Conner had.

He ambled forward and smiled with effort. “Pleasant flight?”

“No.” Tanek walked toward the exit. “Is Reardon in the car?”

“Yes, he arrived from Dublin last night.” He paused. “But he can’t go to the party with you. I could wangle only one invitation.”

“I said two invitations.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand that if it’s a hit, I’m without a backup. I understand that I pay you to do as I tell you.”

“The party is for Anton Kavinski and the invitations were issued three months ago. He’s the president of a Russian state, for God’s sake. It cost me a fortune to get even one.” He added hurriedly, “And you may not need Reardon. I told you the information may not be accurate. Our man only found a computer message at DEA headquarters that indicated this party on the island of Medas
might
be hit.”

“That’s all?”

“And a list of names.”

“What kind of list?”

“The names of six guests. No one that we can identify as players except one of Kavinski’s bodyguards and Martin Brenden, the man who’s giving the party. One name was circled for special attention. A woman.”

“What makes you think this is a hit list?”

“Blue ink. Our man has a theory that Gardeaux’s orders are color-coded to define action to be taken.”

“Theory?” Tanek’s voice was dangerously soft. “I’ve come all this way for a theory?”

Conner moistened his lips. “You told me to let you know anything that came up about Gardeaux.”

The mention of Philippe Gardeaux had the desired effect of tempering Tanek’s annoyance, Conner saw with relief. He had learned that no effort was too great, no action too minor, if it concerned Gardeaux.

“Okay, you’re right,” Tanek said. “Who sent this computer message?”

“Joe Kabler, the head of the DEA, has a paid informant in Gardeaux’s camp.”

“Can we get the informant’s name?”

Conner shook his head. “I’ve been trying, but so far no luck.”

“And what’s Kabler going to do about this list?”

“Nothing.”

Tanek stared at him. “Nothing?”

“Kabler thinks it’s a list of bribery targets.”

“He doesn’t believe in the ‘deadly blue ink’ theory?” Tanek asked sarcastically.

Conner drew a breath of relief as they came abreast of the Mercedes. Let Reardon deal with him; they were two of a kind. “Reardon has the list with him in the car.” He hastily opened the back door. “You can talk to him while I drive you to the hotel.”

“H
owdy, cowboy.” Jamie Reardon’s Irish brogue was blatantly at odds with the assumed western drawl. “I see you left your boots at home.”

Nicholas Tanek felt a little of his impatience ebb as he climbed into the car. “I should have brought them. Nothing like boots to kick ass.”

“Mine or Conner’s?” Jamie asked. “Must be Conner’s. No one would want to damage my venerable ass.”

Conner gave a nervous laugh as he pulled out of the parking space.

Jamie’s long face lit with mischief, his sly gaze on the back of Conner’s head. “But I can see how you’d be displeased with Conner. It’s a long flight from Idaho for no good reason.”

“I told you it might be nothing,” Conner said. “I didn’t tell him to come.”

“You didn’t tell him not to,” Jamie murmured. “Isn’t silence assent, Nick?”

“Knock it off. I’m here now.” Nicholas wearily leaned back on the leather seat. “Is it for nothing, Jamie?”

“Probably. There’s no sign the DEA is taking it seriously. Kabler’s certainly not spending government funds to get an invitation to Medas.”

Another blind alley. Christ, Nicholas was tired of it.

“But getting away from those wide-open spaces is good therapy for you,” Jamie said. “Every time you come back from that ranch, you look more like John Wayne. It’s not healthy.”

“John Wayne has been dead a number of years.”

“I told you it wasn’t healthy.”

“It’s healthy spending your life in a pub?”

“Ah, Nick, you never understood. Irish pubs are the cultural center of the universe. Poetry and art flourish like roses in summer, and the conversations …” He half closed his eyes, savoring the memory. “At other places people talk, in my place they have conversations.”

Nicholas smiled faintly. “There’s a difference?”

“The difference between deciding the fate of the world and buying a new video game for the kid.” He lifted a brow. “But why am I wasting my time describing such beauty to you? You have only steers to talk to in that savage Idaho.”

“Sheep.”

“Whatever. It’s no wonder cowboys are reputed to be strong and silent. Their vocal cords are atrophied from disuse.”

“They have the usual verbal skills.”

Jamie snorted.

“The list,” Conner prompted.

“Ah, he wishes his summons to be validated,” Jamie said. “He’s afraid of you, you know.”

“Nonsense.” Conner’s laugh was a little too hearty.

“I tried to tell him you’re no longer in the business, but I don’t think he believes me. I did hope you’d wear the cowboy boots. They’re so wholesome and unthreatening.”

“Stop it, Jamie,” Nicholas said.

Jamie chuckled. “Just a bit of humor.” He added in a tone inaudible to Conner, “I’ve no liking for the
shifty rabbit. Every time he jumps, he makes me want to skin him.”

“You don’t have to like him. He has an inside man with the DEA.”

“For all the good it’s done us so far.” Jamie reached in his pocket, drew out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Nicholas. “And this looks like another blank.”

“Who’s giving this party?” Nicholas said.

“A banker. Martin Brenden, vice president of Continental Trust. Continental Trust is going after Kavinski’s overseas investments. Brenden’s rented this palace on Medas for the weekend and is throwing the party in Kavinski’s honor.”

“And what connection does Brenden have with Gardeaux?”

“None that we can trace.”

“Kavinski?”

“Possible. Since Kavinski was elected president of Vanask he’s become a major deal maker above and under the table. He may have offended Gardeaux by refusing to let drugs into Vanask.” He paused. “But his name wasn’t on the list.”

“Then I’d bet on Kabler’s interpretation. Bribery. He’s been head of the DEA long enough to sift the chaff from the grain, and he’s a shrewd bastard.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to Medas?”

Nicholas thought about it. It was probably a waste of time if Gardeaux’s message was just a payola list. He had gone on too many wild-goose chases on the chance of finding the key to nail Gardeaux.

But if it was a hit list, then one of the intended victims might know something he could use. Besides, if Gardeaux wanted them dead, then Nicholas damn well wanted them alive.

“Well?” Jamie prompted.

“How do I get to this Medas?”

“There are boats bringing the guests from the dock at Athens. They start leaving at eight tonight. You just show up with an invitation.”

“And I wonder how many of Gardeaux’s men bought invitations as I did.”

“I checked out the guests,” Conner said. “Everyone who accepted is legitimate.”

Maybe. “Any other way to get on the island?”

Conner shook his head. “It has a rocky coastline that’s accessible only by the one dock. Medas is postage-stamp size. You can walk around the entire island in under an hour. Besides the mansion where the party’s going to be, there’s only a few other outbuildings.”

“And Kavinski’s security men will be guarding the dock,” Jamie said. “It doesn’t seem to be a situation Gardeaux would choose to rid himself of enemies.” He smiled. “On the other hand, Kaifer seemed an impossible target, too, and we managed it.”

“We were lean and hungry,” Nicholas pointed out. “These days Gardeaux is a fat cat who prefers to wait outside the mouse hole for his prey. But I suppose I’ll go and check it out.”

“I could go. Or you could send someone else.”

“No, I’ll do it myself.”

“Why?” Jamie’s gaze narrowed on his face. “Could it be that you’re growing restless in the wilds?”

God, yes, he was restless. Restless and impatient and wanting this over. He was no closer to bringing Gardeaux down than he was a year ago.

“You’re too used to walking on the edge,” Jamie said lightly. “And you’ll never be anything but lean and hungry, my lad. I admit I miss it, too, at times.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s deplorably true that one can have only so many conversations.”

“I don’t miss it. I just want Gardeaux.”

“If you say so.”

“I’ll need a report on all the names on the list.”

“It’s already on the desk in your hotel room. As you’ll see, there doesn’t seem to be any common thread connecting the names.”

No, Medas was going to be a snarl of inconsistencies and guesses and maybes.

But the circled name on the list that Conner had mentioned might indicate something; prime prospect or prime target. Either way, she merited attention. He unfolded the paper Jamie had given him.

The name that topped the list was both circled and underlined.

Nell Calder
.

June 4
Medas, Greece

“I saw a monster, Mama,” Jill announced.

“Did you, love?” Nell placed a white hyacinth to the left of the lilac in the Chinese vase and tilted her head appraisingly. Yes, perfect. She reached for another lilac as she glanced at Jill standing in the doorway. “Like Pete, the magic dragon?”

Jill looked at her in disgust. “No, that’s a pretend monster, this was a real one. A man monster. With a long gray nose and eyes like this.” She formed a circle with her thumb and forefinger, and then, judging the circle too small, used her other hand to make the eyes larger. “And a humped back.”

“Sounds like an elephant.” One more delphinium and the arrangement would be finished. “Or maybe a camel.”

“You’re not listening to me,” Jill said. “It was a man monster and he lives in the caves.”

“The caves?” Fear leapt through Nell. The flowers instantly forgotten, she whirled to face her daughter. “What were you doing there? You know Mr. Brenden told you that you weren’t to go into the caves. The real estate agent told him the sea rushes in, and bad tides could sweep you away.”

“I just went in a little way.” She added virtuously, “And then Daddy called me and I came right back out.”

“Daddy took you there?” Dammit, Richard should have watched her more closely. Didn’t he know that an island posed all sorts of dangers for a four-year-old? Nell knew she should have gone with them when they all decided to take that stroll along the beach. Richard always became distracted when he was surrounded by Brenden’s coterie. He always had to be the best, the most charming, the funniest, the cleverest in any group.

What was she thinking? Nell wondered guiltily. Richard didn’t have to be the best; he
was
the best. Jill was her responsibility and she should have gone with them and taken care of her instead of hiding back here and playing with the flower arrangements for the party. “You mustn’t go into the caves. It’s not safe. That’s why Daddy called you back.”

Jill nodded. “Because of the monster.”

“No.” Jill was a sensitive and imaginative child, and this particular fantasy had to be nipped at the start. Nell dropped to her knees on the Aubusson rug and gently grasped Jill’s shoulders. “There was no monster. Sometimes shadows look like monsters, particularly when you’re in a spooky place. Remember when you wake in the middle of the night and think there are bogeymen under the bed? Then, when we look, there’s nothing there?”

“There
was
a monster.” Jill’s lips set stubbornly. “He scared me.”

For an instant Nell was tempted to let her continue to think the monsters existed if the idea would keep her out of the cave. But she had never lied to her daughter before and she would not start now. She would just have to never let Jill out of her sight while they were on this dratted island.

“Shadows,” Nell repeated firmly, and for reinforcement added, “Isn’t that what Daddy said when you told him about the monster?”

“Daddy didn’t listen. He told me to hush. He was busy talking to Mrs. Brenden.” Jill’s eyes filled with tears. “And you don’t believe me either.”

“I do believe you, but sometimes there’s—” She couldn’t go on with Jill looking at her with those reproachful brown eyes. She gently stroked back the straight, silky brown bangs from Jill’s forehead. His China doll, Richard called her, because of her straight, short bob. But there was nothing fragile about Jill. She was sturdy and as apple-pie American as Nell could make her. “Suppose we go down to the cave tomorrow morning and you can show me this monster and we’ll chase him away.”

“You won’t be afraid?” Jill whispered.

“There’s nothing to fear here, baby. It’s a good place for children. The sea and the beach and this lovely house. You’ll have a wonderful time this weekend.”

“You won’t have a good time.”

“What?”

Jill’s gaze held hers with an oddly mature shrewdness. “You never have a good time. Not like Daddy.”

Never underestimate the wisdom of children, Nell thought wearily. “I’m a little shy. Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I’m not having a good time.” She gave her daughter a hug. “And we always have a good time together, don’t we?”

“Sure.” Jill’s arms slid around her neck. She cuddled
closer. “May I come down to the party tonight? Then you’ll have somebody to talk to.”

Jill smelled of sea and sand and Nell’s lavender soap she had begged to use in her bath last night. Nell’s arms tightened around her for a moment before she reluctantly released her. “It’s a grown-up party. You wouldn’t like it.”

And neither would she. She had grown accustomed to her duties as Richard’s wife and could usually fade into the background, but that would be difficult to do this weekend. A plain wren would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb among the socialites and celebrities Martin Brenden had invited to the island to meet Kavinski and dazzle him into signing with Continental Trust.