'Sad news indeed.' Mahmoud said with the appropriate amount of regret in his voice.
Iris even sensed a hint of sadness coming from him, but she wasn't sure she could trust it. If Mahmoud knew what she could do, he might be manufacturing the emotion as surely as Quinn had put on that nasty little terror show for her the evening before at Maddox Heller's house.
The thought of Maddox made her stomach twist into a hard, hot knot. She forced him out of her mind, needing all her energy focused on the plan she and Quinn would put into motion as soon as Dr.Grinkov arrived.
And as disconcerting as she found Tahir Mahmoud's attention, it was probably a good thing that he had decided to make himself her shadow. He'd be front and center for the show.
Poseidon's Courtyard was packed when Maddox arrived a little before two. On island time, the lunch hour could fall anywhere between noon and three. It had taken Maddox a little while to get used to the laid-back atmosphere of Mariposa after years of precision and discipline in the Marine Corps. He still missed the structure, sometimes, though no one would ever guess.
Nicholas Darcy sat at a table near the back reading a newspaper, one long leg crossed over the other. Despite the heat, he wore an impeccably tailored charcoal suit, a crisp white shirt and a dove-gray silk tie. He was alone.
Maddox waved at Moira as he crossed to Darcy's table and dropped into the chair across from him, 'Where's the head of St. George security?'
Darcy put down the paper, 'He hasn't yet arrived. Island time, you know.'
Maddox narrowed his eyes, 'Yeah, Island time.'
Darcy met his gaze. 'You sound skeptical.'
'Why am l really here?'
Darcy tapped the menu in front of him, 'Shall we order?'
'No, we shall not.' Maddox leaned forward. 'Quinn sent you to keep me busy, didn't he?'
Darcy's mouth curved, 'I knew you'd see through it.'
'So he wants me to do something, but he likes playing games too much to just come out and tell me.' Maddox could tell by the look in Darcy's eyes that he was right. 'So what's your role in this, then? Keeping me away from the St. George? No, that's too obvious.'
'Sometimes a cigar is-'
'-a damning piece of evidence.' Maddox finished for him. 'Is the head of St.George security even going to be here?'
'Yes, he is' Darcy looked past him. 'Hello, Moira.'
'Hi there yourself, English.' Moira looked at Maddox, resting her hand on his shoulder. 'Your usual?'
'Yeah.' Maddox said.
Darcy nodded his assent. Moira left to turn in their orders.
'So is the head of St. George security actually going to tell me anything when he gets here?' Maddox reached for his butter knife, placing it on the table in front of him. He gave the handle a soft thump, making the knife spin.
Darcy's gaze followed the rotating knife. 'No. You're not authorized.'
'So this really is to keep me out of Quinn's hair' Maddox's butter knife slowed to a stop, the rounded tip pointing straight at Darcy,
Darcy looked up, his gaze direct. 'Yes.'
Maddox tried to catch Moira's eye to cancel his order, but she was busy.
'I'll tell you what I know' Darcy said, drawing Maddox's attention back to the table.
Maddox eyed him suspiciously. 'Why would you do that?'
'Because I know you have a stake in this.'
Maddox wasn't sure if the RSO was talking about Kaziristan or Iris Browning. Maybe it didn't matter. 'What do you know?'
'It was an inside job. We don't yet know who sabotaged the video surveillance equipment at the hotel, but they were able to get into areas that only authorized personnel can enter. Either the saboteurs were St. George employees, or they had contacts within the St.George security staff. The Sebastian police are following all leads.'
'That's hardly news.' Maddox said with a grimace.
'Did you know that the same company that provides security for the St.George also provides security for the Princeton?'
Maddox tried to hide his reaction, 'Is there a point to this?'I he asked, even as he searched his memory for every face he'd seen on his visits to both hotels, trying to make a match.
'I can't intervene in the police investigation. It might even have been unseemly of me to suggest private security to Ms. Browning.' One of Darcy's dark eyebrows lifted.
Maddox nodded, the message received. He looked around the restaurant, quickly spotting Moira at a nearby table. This time, he caught her attention. She finished taking the order and returned to his table,
'I'm going to have to cancel my order, Moira. Put it on my tab if it's too late.' He stood and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, already moving toward the exit.
He reached the Princeton in five minutes, parking the Jeep in the back lot among a scattering of employee vehicles. One of the benefits of being a go-to kind of guy was that he knew at least one person almost everywhere he went.
At the Princeton, that person was Shandra Clendon, a leggy brunette with eyes the same murky green as Mount Stanley on a rainy day. She worked the check-in counter, her musical Creole accent and ready smile an asset for dealing with demanding tourists.
She rolled her eyes at Maddox's approach, 'What do you want now, Maddox?'
He leaned against the desk and grinned, making a point of looking her up and down. 'Cupcake, that's a loaded question.'
Shandra wasn't buying. 'I'm busy. Maddox. Get to it.'
'I met a woman last night and she gave me her room number and told me to come by. I thought I'd surprise her with room service.' he said, using the story he'd come up with on the ride over from Poseidon's Courtyard to see just how easily he could gain access to Iris's room. 'You know, a little champagne, some chocolate-covered strawberries-'
'Romantic dog.' Shandra said with a smile. 'What do you want me to do?'
'Can you help me surprise her? She's at a conference at another hotel-the St.George. She should be back by six, and I just wanted to have everything ready and waiting for her. Can you help a fellow out?'
Shandra's milk chocolate forehead creased a moment, then went smooth again, giving Maddox a moment of hope. Then she reached under the counter.
'What room number did you say?'
Maddox's heart sank.
At a quarter to four, the early afternoon session came to a close, and hotel staffers entered the conference hall to set up an informal afternoon tea. Iris saw AlexanderQuinn enter the hall at the far end, near the speaker's dais. He didn't look her way, and she didn't let her gaze linger on him.
'In London, afternoon tea is still in vogue.' Tahir Mahmoud murmured, leaning toward her as he watched a server approach. 'I understand it's not a custom in the States.'
'No, it's not.' she agreed, trying not to think of who Quinn and Maddox thought Tahir really was. But her skin prickled where his sleeve brushed her arm, and she had to force herself not to recoil.
He motioned to the server, who gave a nod in response.
Tahir turned to Iris and smiled. 'Since you missed yesterday's afternoon session, I will take it upon myself to inform you that the lemon petit fours are quite tasty, but avoid the scones at all costs'
She made herself chuckle in response, though every instinct screamed at her torn away. 'I'll keep that in mind.'
A loud clatter nearby plucked her taut nerves, making her jump. A sudden scalding pain raced up her left hand
