Too Little, Too Late (36 page)

Kate must have hit the back of her head from the force of Leo’s blow and had fallen unconscious. When she came to, she tasted blood in the back of her throat and watched longingly as Leo unscrewed a bottle of water and drank thirstily.

“Give me some,” Kate demanded.

He ignored her.

“Please!” she asked through gritted teeth.

He brought the bottle over to her.

“Untie me so I can drink.”

“I don’t want to touch you,” he told her. Standing above her, he tipped the remaining contents of the bottle over her face.

She choked as the water went down her nose into her throat. “You’re not going to get away with this,” she sputtered.

Leo pulled his chair over and sat down. He tilted his head, staring at her intently.

“What are you looking at?” she asked.

“I always wondered what you really looked like,” he stated, “and whether she took after you or my father.”

“Who?” asked Kate.

“Mother fell in love with her golden curls and big blue eyes, you know,” he told her, laughing without mirth. “She used to call Maria
her angel
.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Kate’s headache worsened as she tried to make sense of what he was saying.

“My brother and I thought the whole thing was pretty ironic.”

“What was?”

“The fact that Father was a Nazi and Mother was half Jewish.”

Kate said nothing. There was no point in antagonizing him.

“Mother would’ve been better off if she had gone on thinking that Father had been nothing more than a drunken womanizer.” He stood up, nearly toppling over his chair. “But no. He was a Nazi killer and a rapist and thanks to your bastard child, it soon infected our whole family.”

“What are you talking about?” Kate’s world started spinning as the tears unwittingly sprung to her eyes.

“Who,” he corrected her automatically. “I was talking about Sonja.”

“How did you know what Sonja looked like?” she whispered.

“Irving and I both wanted her dead at first.” His eyes were soulless as they stared at her. “But no, Mother wanted that little girl, retarded or not,” he continued to rant, “and what Sigi wanted, Sigi got.”

“Sigi!”
Kate was stunned. “The Sigi at the Foundation
is your mother?
”

“She thought money could buy everything.” He stopped pacing and grinned at her like a lunatic. “And it did.”

“What do you mean?”

“She bought MacGuyver off and he was only too willing to find a corpse for that explosion while Mother dearest got to keep your precious daughter.”

“
Dr. MacGuyver!
” Kate’s brain reeled with shock. “Are you saying that…Sonja didn’t die…that day?”

“Die?” His eyes grew cold with hate as he made for the doorway. “Sonja was reborn – as my Maria.”

***

“Old Irving certainly knows how to live in style,” Eve commented as Paul’s car entered through the ornate gates before stopping in front of an impressive-looking mansion.

Paul glanced at Eve in the passenger seat. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Keep in mind that Irving doesn’t respond well to threats or coercion so we’re going to have to take things lightly, okay?” He regarded Eve through veiled lids. “Maybe it would be better if you stayed in the car while I talked to him.”

“No.” Eve’s voice was firm. “I’m going in with you.”

He sighed as he saw the rigid set of her shoulders. “Let’s go then.” He led the way to the front door and rang the doorbell. A moment later, the door was answered by a young maid.

“May I help you?” she asked politely. Her English was good, a surprise in L.A., where much of the staffing came from the Mexican and South American immigrant population.

“I’m Paul Wagner, a business associate of Mr. Johnson’s. I was told by the studio that Mr. Johnson is working from home today.” Paul cleared his throat, laying on the charm. “I’d like to speak with him, if I may.”

“Please come in,” she told him. “I’ll go tell Mr. Johnson that you’re here.”

They were left standing in the vast hallway while the maid went to announce the guests. She was back a few minutes later.

“Mr. Johnson will see you in his study,” she told them. “Please follow me.”

They followed the maid through the cavernous home, elegantly appointed, no doubt by some famous interior designer, to the study. It was an impressive room paneled in rich mahogany, lined from floor to ceiling with an equally impressive array of richly-bound books, many of them first editions. Eve was willing to bet the books had probably never been read.

“Paul, Ms. Stanton!” Irving Johnson stood up to shake their hands. “What a pleasant surprise.”

He was casually dressed in shirt and slacks, his sleeves rolled up. The desk was littered with papers and files and his laptop and desktop were both on. The clutter on his desk and the two computers emphasized the obvious. Irving Johnson was a busy man.

“May I offer you some refreshments?” he asked politely, slipping into his role of the perfect host. “Some coffee, perhaps.”

“We’re good, thanks,” Paul replied for the both of them. “Eve and I can see you’re busy so we won’t take up too much of your time.”

Irving smiled expansively. “My wife was feeling under the weather today. I wanted to be near in case she needed me.”

Paul got straight to the point. “Irving, have you heard from your brother lately?”

“Leo?” He looked at Paul in surprise. “I haven’t spoken to my step-brother in years. Why are you asking me about him?”

Eve spoke up. “Several months ago, a homeless woman was killed by a hit and run driver. You may have heard about it on the news.”

Irving leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin intently. “Yes, I seem to recall hearing something about it.”

“The car used in her hit and run belonged to a man called Paco Ramierez,” Eve continued, carefully watching Irving’s face. “Mr. Ramierez was a former employee of your brother’s.”

“So you think there’s some connection between my step-brother’s ex-employee and this woman’s death?” asked Irving in disbelief. “I’m not sure what this has to do with Leo or either one of you, quite frankly.”

Paul chose his next words carefully. “Forensics found a piece of torn photograph wedged between the passenger seat that had both the dead woman’s fingerprints on it as well as your stepbrother’s.”

“And now my mother’s missing and Sigi seems to think that Leo may have had something to do with it,” Eve added.

Leo’s carefully schooled features were unreadable as he stared at Eve. “How is it that you happened to speak with my mother?”

Eve met his gaze head-on. “Sigi had been asking for my mother and when the Foundation couldn’t locate her, they called me instead.”

“I see.” Those two words carried a great deal of meaning. It was as if Irving Johnson now recognized the brevity of the situation. “As you may or may not know, my step-brother and I have never been close,” he told them, “and unfortunately, we pretty much severed all ties to each other when we had a falling out a number of years ago.”

“Over your wife,” Paul noted.

Irving’s features became guarded, less cordial. “Yes.”

“Perhaps he’s spoken to your wife recently?” Eve asked helpfully.

“I doubt that very much.”

“Maybe we could ask her?” she pressed.

“As I told you before, Livy’s under the weather,” he told them firmly, “so I’m afraid she’s not up to speaking with anyone.”

“We can come back later,” Paul offered, equally firm.

Irving stood up, his face an unreadable mask. “I’m afraid I’ve got to get back to work now. One of the maids will show you out.”

“That’s all right, Irving, I’ll speak to them.”

At the sound of the woman’s voice, they all turned towards the study door. If Irving Johnson’s wife was feeling “under the weather”, she certainly didn’t show it. She was probably in her late fifties but carried it very well. Soot-black hair was secured at the nape of her neck and her thin form was sheathed in a silk dressing gown.

Irving got up and went to his wife, the concern apparent in his eyes. “Livy, what are you doing out of bed? I thought we agreed that you were going to rest today.”

“Stop fussing, Irving,” she told him impatiently.

“Mrs. Johnson, has your ex-husband contacted you recently?” Eve asked, skipping all efforts at decorum.

“Yes, he did.” She hesitated for a moment, not meeting her husband’s gaze. “He called yesterday.”

Irving was taken aback. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you would’ve been upset,” she told him, her hands clenched together in agitation. “I hadn’t heard from Leo in years and then suddenly, out of the blue, he calls.”

“What did he want?” asked Paul, unconsciously perched on the edge of his chair.

“At first, I wasn’t sure,” she admitted. “I thought he’d been drinking because nothing he said made any sense to me.”

“What exactly did he say?” Eve prompted her.

Olivia Johnson began pacing the room. “He rambled on about us being together again. Then he talked about our baby—” She forced back a sob with the back of her hand and refused to let Irving comfort her. “—And then he said something about meeting up with me at the palace with the swans.” She looked at them in confusion. “I had no idea what he was talking about. Like I said, I thought he was drunk.”

“Are you sure that’s what he said?” Irving asked skeptically.

She nodded, clearly perplexed. “Is Leo in some kind of trouble?”

No one said anything.

“Oh my God, what has Leo done?”

“We believe your ex-husband may have been involved in the hit and run death of a homeless woman a few months back,” Eve told her.

The older woman slid onto a settee, a stricken look on her face.

“There was an article in
Variety
yesterday,” Irving announced suddenly, “about my purchasing the Swanson Estate for Reinhart.”

“And the grounds of the estate have swans,” Paul remarked somberly.

“That’s it! That’s the place where Leo wanted me to meet him – at the Swanson Estate,” she confirmed.

“When?” asked Eve, urgency adding a sharpness to her voice.

Olivia Johnson’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Later today.”

“The property’s monitored by closed circuit television, both the grounds as well as the entrance,” Paul told the small group gathered around a blueprint of the Swanson Estate.

“We’ll have to assume he took out the security guard and that he’s monitoring the feed,” Warner told them grimly.

Cassidy was equally glum. “And with 32,000 square feet of space to play with, where would he hide them?”

They were silent as they stared broodingly at the blueprint. They were in the mobile command unit down the street from the Swanson Estate. Eve was verging on the brink of exhaustion, yet fought for control.

“I say we lead a frontal attack through the main gate,” suggested the commander of the special task force. “We can be in the house in a matter of minutes.”

“You still wouldn’t know where to look and my mother could be dead by the time your men were able to reach her,” Eve reasoned.

“I agree with Eve.” Paul stared at the blueprints of the house. “It would be too risky.”

“You’ve got to do something.” Eric looked at the two detectives worriedly. “Our baby’s life is at stake, not to mention the fate of the mother’s.”

“We’re doing everything we can, Dr. Devane,” Warner reassured him automatically.

“Let’s assume he’s monitoring the security cameras,” the team commander speculated. “He would have to have his hostages close enough to keep an eye on them as well as the security cameras.” He looked at Paul. “That narrows the playing field down, doesn’t it?”

Paul scanned the blueprint, pointing to the north end of the house. “The security monitoring station is here,” he told them. “The closest possibilities would be the north kitchen, the wine cellar, the screening room or the bowling alley.” He looked at Eve. “The kitchen’s too open but any one of the other three would be within easy access to the monitoring station.”

“How many levels are we talking about?” asked Warner.

“Two,” replied Eve. “The security room is on the main level, as is the bowling alley, but the wine cellar and screening room are on the lower level of the house.” When the others looked at her in surprise, she was quick to add, “I was the listing agent on the property.”

Cassidy, who’d been studying the map, looked up thoughtfully. “There are no cameras inside, right?”

Paul shook his head.

“Well, what if we drop two teams onto the roof and have them go in through the upper floor? One group can do a systematic sweep while the other group does a search of the bowling alley, the wine cellar and the screening room,” Cassidy continued.

“It’s a possibility.” The team commander rubbed the stubble on his chin. “But my men would need time to bypass the alarm,” the commander reminded them.

“How much time?” asked Warner.

“No more than a few minutes.”

“Are you talking about a diversion of some kind?” asked Paul.

Warner nodded. “And I think I’ve got just the right diversion,” Warner announced. He turned to his partner. “Get Olivia Johnson on the phone.”

“Commander, you’d better come and take a look at this,” one of the technicians suddenly exclaimed. “I think we’ve got a problem.”

All of them crowded around the television monitor before letting out a collective groan. News crews and photographers were setting up along the perimeter of the street, just down from their trailer.

“Damn!” the team commander swore under his breath. He turned to Warner. “We’ve no time to lose!”

***

“Your mother had no right to take Sonja!” Kate spat at him when he came back into the room. This was the fifth time he’d disappeared and come back. She suspected that he was on the lookout for the police. “She was my daughter and I loved her!”

“You dumb bitch!” He slapped her face with a vicious backhand. “You just don’t get it, do you? Had you kept her, she would have continued to pose a threat to the precious Weaver coffers and my brother’s pathetic political career.”