“So they tapped my phones?”
Careful. This woman was no dummy. “No. I did that. I was looking for anything I could learn that might help our situation. I knew of your relationship with the First Lady before I made contact with you.”
“So give me a good reason why I shouldn’t make you a soprano.”
“You’d miss me as a baritone.”
“More of that charm. You don’t quit, I’ll give you that.”
He shifted in the bed.
Her grip on the gun stiffened.
“Calm down,” he said. “Just lightening the load on some old muscles.”
“What did you do with what you heard on the phone?”
“Most of it? Nothing. But when I heard of the New York trip, I did inform my associates. With the White House not announcing the trip, we thought an opportunity might have opened. We discussed the matter, but decided not to act. Unfortunately, they changed their minds and did not bother to inform me.”
“Have you always been such a good liar?”
“I’m not lying.”
“You used me, Quentin.” Her voice carried no anger, no contempt.
“So you come here, lure me to bed, simply to shoot me?”
“I decided to use you a little.”
“Shirley, my wife and I have been apart a long time. You know that. You and I have enjoyed quite the healthy relationship. As we are speaking, right now, men are at your house removing the listening device. That’s over. Can’t we let it be? We can enjoy an even healthier relationship now-”
“That we know what a liar and cheat you truly are.”
“Shirley,” he said in gentle voice. “You are not naive. The world is a difficult place, and we all have to do what we can to survive. Suffice it to say that my situation borders on desperate, so I chose the means I thought might achieve results. I did lie to you. At first. But once we came to know each other that changed. You know that I could not fake everything-if only from what just happened. You are an exciting, vibrant woman.”
The gun stayed aimed. “You destroyed my relationship with the First Lady.”
“She needs professional help. You know that. Or better yet, allow Mr. Davis to be her confidant. She seems to like him.”
“It’s not a dirty thing.”
“I’m sure it is not. But it is still a thing. One they would not want public.”
“What were you going to do? Blackmail them?”
“The thought had occurred to me. Luckily, better solutions to the problem may have come along. So their secret is safe.”
“How comforting.”
“Why not lower that gun and you and I consummate our new relationship. One built on mutual trust and respect.”
He liked her eyes, so blue they could at times seem purple. Her angular features barely reflected her age. She possessed the lissome grace of a dancer-curvy, slender-waisted, full-bosomed. And she always wore a peculiar scent of perfume with a citrus aroma that lingered long after they parted.
“I don’t think any relationship between us is possible,” she finally said.
And she pulled the trigger.
KNOX DITCHED THE BOAT ON SHORE AND HUSTLED BACK TO THE vehicle he’d left parked near a small strip of closed shops. He was glad to be away from Paw Island.
Him dying there was not part of any equation.
No one was around. He needed to leave Canada, and fast. The stolen boat would be discovered tomorrow by whoever. His two associates would also be found inside Fort Dominion. One was clearly dead, the other most likely. None of them carried identification, though they both lived toward Nags Head, on the Atlantic shore. He’d long ago encouraged many of the crew to move out from Bath into the surrounding communities, the farther away the better, though close enough to be on site within two hours. Many were single, like these two, with few attachments. Once the bodies were identified and it was determined that they worked at the estate, law enforcement would appear. There’d be inquiries. But then that was why the Commonwealth employed a bevy of lawyers. It should not be a problem.
Andrea Carbonell, on the other hand.
She was a problem.
He was tired of being scared. Tired of watching his back. Tired of worrying. A good quartermaster would never have placed himself in such jeopardy.
Yet he had.
A year ago he might have stayed at Fort Dominion and fought it out with Jonathan Wyatt. But he’d already chosen another course, one that paid no heed to either duty or heritage. He just wanted to get out and not be killed by either the government or the Commonwealth.
He was a survivor.
And Jonathan Wyatt was not his enemy. Nor was Quentin Hale, really, or the other three captains.
They knew nothing.
Only Andrea Carbonell knew it all.
SIXTY-SEVEN
Kaiser smiled. “The next one will be live.”
He did not doubt her prediction.
“Do you have any idea the situation you’ve placed me in,” she said to him. “Pauline Daniels will probably never speak to me again.”
“Are they aware of my listening in on your calls?”
“They found your little device in my backyard.”
Panic surged through him as he thought about the two men sent to retrieve the equipment. Were agents waiting for them?
“Shirley, you must listen to me. There is more at stake here than your pride. The entire weight of the U.S. government has been brought to bear on me and my associates. I need allies, not more enemies. It’s long past time for me to divorce my wife. Having you here full time would be most pleasant.” He paused. “For us both, I hope.”
He had to contact Knox and deal with the situation in Virginia. That had now become even more critical than what was happening in Nova Scotia.
“You honestly think that would sway me?” she said. “A promise of marriage? I don’t need a husband, Quentin.”
“What do you need?”
“How about an answer to a question. Are you holding a woman prisoner here named Stephanie Nelle?”
He considered lying, but again decided against it. “She is part of that enemy. Sent here to destroy us. I captured her in self-defense.”
“I’m not asking you to justify it, Quentin. I simply want to know if she’s here.”
Alarm bells rang in his brain.
How would she know to ask that question?
Only one way. Someone told her. Someone in the know. If she wasn’t naked he’d be worried she was wired. Her clothing and overnight bag were not a concern either since they were in the next room, a closed door between
