All That Bleeds (10 page)

Merrick glanced at the letter. The wine had melted the ice-princess façade and underneath was the real girl. She talked about her disdain for the emphasis placed on her looks, though she also called them “her protection.” She confided that she missed her former best friend and envied the other girl’s eclectic style and natural athleticism. Magazines and designers
almost always chose Alissa to model for them over Cerise, which Alissa thought showed a lack of imagination. She claimed that pictures of her friend were often more compelling than the ones of her.

Merrick had smiled at that. Apparently she hadn’t been in the mood to recognize that imagination and everything else often took a backseat to profit. Everyone knew that the Alissa North image was one of the most valuable brands on the planet.

She confessed that she’d tried to look bored in her pictures, but rather than getting less work, she was told that her “aloof” images worked as well as her friendly ones. Subtle self-sabotage was as far as she allowed herself to go though, so she was trapped in an endless parade of photo shoots, lest she lose the favor of her council supporters.

She conjectured that it must be nice to be Merrick, who probably never worried about what anyone thought of him. Merrick had agreed, but had amended the statement in his mind. He didn’t care about what anyone thought, with one exception.

She mentioned that she’d heard interesting rumors about him lately. Good things that might not be true, but that she liked to believe were. He could’ve guessed the things she’d heard. He’d given a lot of money to a foster-care program. One that she supported. Normally, he would have donated anonymously, but for once he hadn’t hidden it because he’d wanted her to find out.

In the letter, she went on to talk about her obsession with the environment and the courses she’d taken to assist her in inspiring and fostering the careers of her young scientist aspirants. She’d studied so much that she’d begun dreaming about nanotechnology and more efficient ways to desalinate water. Then, suddenly while writing, she’d apparently gotten irritated by his silence, saying:
These conversations are ridiculous. They’re not even conversations since you never write more than a couple sentences back, and you never tell me anything about yourself. I’ve told you what occupies my thoughts. What about you, Mr. Merrick? Do you dream? And, if so, about what? Please don’t say bullets!

I take that back. Tell me what’s on your mind—no matter what that is. What do you think about, Merrick?

You,
he’d thought, but his response had been to send her orchids with a card that read:

97% of the time—Sure, bullets
2% of the time—Salt water and nanotechnology
1% of the time—The wall I’d like to knock down to reach a certain girl who writes me letters.

The following night he’d gotten a bouquet of black dahlias with a card that read:

I thought so. What kind of bullets?

He’d laughed out loud when he’d read the card, making everyone in the staff lounge stop what they were doing.

“Secret admirer?” Tony had asked.

“Just business. The electrician’s grateful I hired him to rewire the underground club.”

Which, of course, had been everyone’s cue to pretend that the boss wasn’t flirting with some girl bold enough to send him black flowers.

He’d sent a dozen lavender roses with the note:
All kinds.

For the rest of the night, in every spare moment, Merrick had been consumed by one thought:
I want to see her.

Just before dawn, he’d sent a dozen white roses with a note.
It’s time to discuss salt water in person. Name the date, and I’ll make it happen.

She hadn’t answered. She’d gone to San Diego for an eco summit with a troop of ES bodyguards, and there had been no letters for fourteen weeks. The message was plain enough. No meeting.

A part of him had spent hours thinking of ways to corner her alone, just to prove he could do it anytime he wanted. But another part of him knew she’d had seven stalkers since she was twelve years old and that was a crowd he didn’t intend to join, no matter how satisfying it would be to see her in the flesh. So he’d waited, and then he’d sent flowers and a note with a single word.
Understood.

A week later, she sent a letter as if nothing had happened.
They were back to the long-distance flirtation, though occasionally for a line or two, the ice melted again, the banter disappeared, and he was given another glimpse into her private life. A glimpse, her hints implied, that no one in the world was ever given except him.

Somehow, for a very long time, that had been enough.

Exhausted by her ordeal and by the night’s fragmented sleep, Alissa should have been able to fall asleep immediately, but she couldn’t. Her thoughts darted between the abduction and wanting to talk to someone about her mother’s meeting at the Dome and the missing diary. Unfortunately there was no one in whom she could confide.

She started a letter to Merrick, but knew it was too dangerous to include any real details. She wished she could somehow arrange to see him again.

With an image of Merrick in her mind, she finally started to drift toward unconsciousness. So when the phone rang, she thought it would magically be him, though of course he’d never be foolish enough to call her house.

Still, she expected to hear his voice, and her fevered craving for it worried her. She wanted too much for it to be him.

Instead, it was Theo Tobin.

“How did you get this number, Mr. Tobin?”

“Look, I know you’re still angry with me over those sailboat pictures, Alissa, but don’t you think you’ve punished me long enough?” he asked.

“I was fifteen. I used bad judgment in wearing a thong. Since the captain and crew were women, I didn’t think it would be a problem, but you proved with your long lens that when you’re around I’m not allowed to make a mistake without having the world find out about it. Did you expect that to make us friends?”

“I’m sorry I sold those pictures to the tabloids. I needed the money.”

“So be it. I’m hanging up.”

“Wait! I can make up for it now. I have some pictures that they made me take last night.”

The blood drained from her face. “Who made you take them?”

“Listen, there’s more going on with this ventala syndicate than the Etherlin realizes. I can’t talk about it on the phone. The bastards are trying to figure out where I am right now. I need to keep moving,” he said, fear lacing his voice.

“Come into the Etherlin. You’ll be safe inside.”

“I can’t. They’ll grab me before I get to the gate. But I could get home if you helped me.”

“Helped you how?”

“First, you have to talk to Merrick. He’s looking for me, too. You have to tell him not to kill me. I wasn’t involved in taking you. I swear it.”

Her heart slammed against her chest, but she kept her voice cool. “Why does he think you were?”

“Because I was there. How was I supposed to know what they had planned? Jeez! I’ve been covering your family since I was eighteen and got my first telephoto lens. Like I’m gonna do something to destroy you? Never! But Merrick’s not going to listen. He warned me once. You have to talk to him.”

“I don’t have any influence over him. We barely know each other.”

“Alissa, don’t play games with me. He really will kill me unless you call him off.”

“Listen, I can’t call him from here. The phone bills go to the Dome. With the vote a few days away, people are scrutinizing everything I do.”

“I’ll send Merrick a message. He can get a phone to you that can’t be traced.”

She bit down on her lip. She did really want to speak with Merrick again.

“After you talk to Merrick, we’ll meet in the Sliver. I’ll show you the pictures and tell you what I know, and you’ll give me a ride back to the Etherlin.”

“The Sliver’s outside the wall. I would have to bring a security detail, and we couldn’t talk in front of them. Not to mention that my coming to pick you up would look really suspicious.”

“We don’t have a choice! This needs to happen. You’ll have
to come up with an excuse. I’m telling you, you won’t get the Wreath anyway if news about last night comes out, and if the Jacobis get their hands on me, it will.”

Her mouth went dry and her mind raced. “I can come up with a reason to visit the Sliver, but we’d need to pretend that you and I crossing paths happened by chance. We’ll have to wait until we’re back in the Etherlin to discuss things.”

“Yeah, fine. That makes sense. Be at Handyrock’s at eight tonight.”

“I’ll try to be there.”

“If you’re not, I’m dead and you’re ruined, so you’d better try hard.”

Dusk’s failing light glinted off the ends of the sniper rifles pointed at the square in front of the Infi-Moderno building, headquarters of the ventala syndicate. Merrick appreciated the irony. Years earlier after a breach of the building, he’d been asked to consult on security upgrades. He’d made several suggestions, including that men with Special Forces training be added to the staff and positioned on the rooftops as snipers. Now those men’s weapons were pointed at him.

He slid his sunglasses down so that the camera above the entrance could capture his eyes. A moment later, he punched in his code and opened the door.

The brunette sitting at the reception desk was flanked by two paramilitary guards. She swept her hip-length hair over her shoulder and smiled.

“Hello, Merrick.”

“Hello, beautiful.”

“Nice suit. Do you really pay ten thousand dollars for each one?”

He shook his head, and she looked disappointed. “Fifteen.”

“Fifteen?” She gasped. “Are they really worth it?”

“You tell me.”

She made a show of looking him up and down, then grinned. “You do look good in a suit, but I bet you look better out of one. And it’d be a lot cheaper.”

“Sure, but where would I keep my pens? I’m a businessman now, you know.”

Her grin widened. “I do know. Everyone’s noticed how well you’re doing. South of Firenze was the worst part of the Varden. Used to be, people tried to claw their way out of there before they ended up dead. Now look at it. There’s a waiting list to rent, and if you want a high-rise apartment, forget about it. I bet if I wanted to live on Delphi Saint near the Crimson, I’d never find a place in a million years.”

“There’s always room for another pretty girl.” He put his palm over the scanner. “Call the club and talk to Ox or Tony. They’ll take care of you.”

“Thanks, Merrick.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Listen, be careful up there. Cato’s been stirring it up all afternoon about you. Then he got in a shouting match with Tamberi and smashed his fist through the display case in her office. Broke half a dozen pieces of her millefiori collection. She shot him twice in the shoulder with that old Colt.45 she keeps in her desk. You know how the old guns make that popping sound like firecrackers? Everyone heard it and came out to see what was going on. The bullets were only lead with copper jackets, but he bled all over the new gray carpeting.”

“So Victor’s in a good mood then,” Merrick said, making her laugh before he went to the elevator. On the way up, he glanced at the photo of boss Victor Jacobi with his son and daughter. Tamberi’s black hair was buzzed short in the picture, but when combined with the sexy suit she wore, it worked somehow.

In the hall on his way to Victor’s office, Merrick passed the workmen who were already replacing the carpet. Victor’s efficient sixty-one-year-old secretary gave Merrick a pained looked and waved him through.

“They’re in a meeting downstairs, but I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thanks, Sil.”

“The snack in the office is for you. Don’t hesitate if you’re thirsty.”

He raised his eyebrows. That was surprising. There’d been
tension for months, and hospitality had been pretty thin whenever he’d been summoned to headquarters recently.

He was only a couple steps into the office when he went still. Standing at the giant silver-framed window was Alissa North.

Cato cursed as Tamberi wrapped the bandage tightly around his wounded shoulder. He glared at her, but she only shook her head and didn’t say a word as she taped.

“You fucking had to shoot me twice? You got my attention the first time.”

“Lost my head,” she said.

The break in conversation lasted several moments before he said, “Me, too. I’ll buy you some new glass.”

“Sure. I needed to do some shopping in Venice anyway.”

The phone rang, and Tamberi clicked on the speakerphone. “Yeah, Sil?”

“He just walked in.”

Cato clicked a button and the wall of screens blinked on.

They both studied Merrick’s expression, which gave away nothing.

“Cool as a fucking cucumber,” Cato said, but Tamberi pressed a button to amplify the pulse wave sensors. They listened to the rhythm of the beating hearts. Both were thumping about eighty times per minute.

“You were right,” Tamberi said. “He’s got a thing for her.”

“You think?” Cato asked.

“Absolutely. Merrick’s resting heart rate is thirty-five. Remember that time John Grange jumped across the table to kill Dad with the ice pick, and Merrick grabbed Grange and slammed him to the ground? Thirty seconds after it was over, Merrick’s heart rate was only fifty-seven.”

Onscreen, Merrick said to the girl, “Hey. You lost?”

“Smooth. I told you he wouldn’t slip. He knows the office is wired. Even if he’s shocked, he’s not gonna show it,” Cato said.

The girl turned so that she could look directly at Merrick. “No, Mr. Merrick. I’ve been waiting here for you.”

“Look at her face. That surgeon did a
good
job,” Cato said.

“Yeah, pretty good. But he realizes now,” Tamberi said, and they both listened as the span between the beats of Merrick’s heart grew longer and longer. “Sixty-two. Fifty. Forty. And thirty-five,” Tamberi said. “So Alissa North revs his engine more than fighting or killing.”