The Other Crowd (24 page)

“You’re a—”

“And so are you,” he chastised. “So I’d keep out of the yacht’s line of vision if I were you. We don’t want to spook them with a ghost.”

She leaned against the car door, crossing her arms and slinking down so her hip nudged the door handle. “So you’re going to let the man transport the weapons? Is there a ship waiting out of the harbor somewhere?”

He nodded.

“But after he murdered Beth and Wesley, and tried to kill you and me—”

“Succeeded, Annja. Neville believes both of us are lying at the bottom of the Bandon River. So speak more softly, will you?”

“Yet you’re sitting here, still keeping an eye on him?”

“My replacement is on the way. I never leave a job until I’m sure it’s being covered. I suspect an agent has already insinuated himself into the loading crew.”

“But he’s not here to make an arrest,” Annja decided. Slater shook his head. “So MI-6 lets the murderer go?”

He tipped up his sunglasses and eyed her through narrowed lids. He offered no apologies. And much as it frustrated her, Annja realized he was doing his job. She hated government agencies.

“Arms sales promote peace, Annja. Think about it.”

“I’d rather not.”

“It’s the truth, as ridiculous as it sounds. Sometimes you have to join the fray to learn the enemy’s secrets. It’s not a perfect system, but it does work. Just be thankful you’re alive. How
are
you alive? You’re one tough woman. Ever think about working for your government?”

She laughed nervously. “Never. I couldn’t live with the moral ambiguity.”

“You’ll stick with sensational television, then.” He dropped his shades onto his nose, concealing the wicked glee Annja had glimpsed in his eyes. “Nice knowing you, Creed. Walk east, away from me. If I see you go near that boat—”

“Don’t worry. I’m heading to the forest to stir up some faeries. Gotta bring something home to the boss man.”

“Good luck with that. Don’t worry, Pierce’s family has been notified he was killed during a tragic cave-in offshore of the Clonakilty Bay, scavenging for buried treasure. His body has already been prepared for the flight home. His family took it well. They knew their son was an adventurer.”

“You called them?”

“No, we’ve got people to make calls like that. People with compassion.”

He said it without a flinch. The man possessed compassion, much as he’d like to deny it. An exterior armor of indifference was a necessity to do his job well.

“Thanks.” She offered her hand, and Slater shook it.

She didn’t have to like him for his morals, but she did respect him for his integrity.

“Hey, I have something for you,” she said.

“For me? A gift? You shouldn’t have.”

She propped an elbow on the driver’s door and shuffled her suspicions about Eric’s father around in her brain. It didn’t feel right, but she was very intuitive. And yet…he must be connected somehow. Why would a father pay for a trip to send his son to Ireland if he weren’t the one behind the forgeries? What was she missing?

“The cigars,” she said.

“I love a good smoke. Where is it?”

“No. The cigars. A box of Montecristos. It was a gift to Daniel from Eric’s father, Marvin Kritz. And Daniel is big on bartering with less-than-savory sorts. I wonder…” She took out Daniel’s business card and handed it to him. “I think he may be your forger.”

“What proof do you have?”

“Nothing, beyond the fact that the quiet man is always the most suspicious. He’s got ink stains on his hands, and I can’t imagine he spends a lot of time composing love letters. And I’ve learned that Eric Kritz’s father is a notary public. He’s a friend of Daniel’s. He sent a gift with Eric to give to Daniel. Looked like a box of cigars. I wonder if MI-6 wouldn’t like to take a look at those smokes?”

“I bet they would. You figured this all out on your own?”

“Hey, sometimes I’m good.”

“You’re always good, Creed.” He flicked the card between his fingers. “Don’t know why I didn’t suspect him in the weeks I was on the dig. But it makes sense. Neville did have dinner at Collins’s mother’s one night, which was the catalyst to our misadventures digging in the dirt. I wonder about that old lady.”

“I think she’s harmless.”

“She’ll be checked out thoroughly. I’ll rally a couple of agents and send them over to Collins’s house right now. Thanks, Annja.”

“No problem.”

“Hey, Annja? I’m never in one place for very long, but if you’re ever in London—Albany Road—why don’t you look me up?”

“I may do that. Good luck, Slater.”

Daniel Collins opened the door to two men who wore lackluster black business suits. They flashed badges that he had no time to read, but he guessed they were from some idiot government department and had seen one too many slick spy movies.

“Gentleman.” He stepped aside so they could enter his house, and they did. Their eyes took in everything from stone floor, up the whitewashed walls, to the tin ceiling. “What can I do for you today? A bit sunny for the dour clothes. You lose your direction on the way to tip back a parting glass?”

“We’ve got a warrant to search your home, Mr. Collins,” one of the men said.

“Aye? What would that be for?”

“Here’s the warrant. You can read it while we take a look around. Do you mind?”

Daniel snatched the folded document. He didn’t have to read it. Why bother? He tucked it in his front shirt pocket and stepped aside. “Don’t mind at all. Fancy a cigar while you’re snooping about?”

T
HE NURSE WAS GOING
over Eric’s discharge papers with him, so Annja left them in the room and found a table near a window in the hospital visitors’ lounge. She twisted the cap off a soda bottle and tipped back the root beer. Eric’s father had been notified of his hospital stay for insurance purposes, but Eric gave no indication of whether or not his father knew the truth about his reason for being admitted, or if he was angry with him.

As far as family was concerned, Annja didn’t know anything about having the standard nuclear family. Her childhood had been fun and she’d survived it well enough. So why she allowed comments about family to poke her nerves sometimes was beyond her.

It was nearing supper, and the day promised a few good hours of sunlight still. Eric was eager to go out and film a final segment for the show. He was feeling fine, he said, and was glad to be getting out of the scratchy hospital bedsheets. He had suggested they catch a midnight flight.

They would only be able to allude to the existence of faeries in County Cork, Ireland. But Annja knew belief tended to be strong without actual evidence. With little proof of the winged creatures they had come to pursue, Annja still knew how to make the show work. Hell, she could claim to have administered a little fairy dust in some of her past segments. Plus, Eric had filmed a couple of interviews with locals in the Ballybeag pub and had gotten some great sound bites.

Just because you couldn’t see something didn’t mean it didn’t exist, whether it be a tangible entity or something found, more often than not, in the hearts of the locals.

The notion to ring Daniel before she left town seemed more cruel than wise. The man had been nice enough to her, but if he was supplying Frank Neville, and others of the same criminal ilk, with forged EUCs, then she wasn’t going to stand back and allow him to continue.

Rachel Collins would never invite her to dinner again. The old lady was capable, though; she could take care of herself. Heck, if she ever thought to cash in the diamond among her ephemera collection, she’d be set for life.

Someone sat across the table from her and stretched out his legs. A man. The slightest hint of cologne tickled Annja’s nose. It was familiar and spicy. Daring a glance at him and a tired yet friendly smile—she dropped the smile.

“Long time no talk, Annja.” A dark goatee framed Garin Braden’s smug grin. Dark eyes the color of rich peat twinkled.

“Are you visiting someone here,” she asked, “or do you just like to follow me?”

“Actually, I did get a chance to visit with an old friend.”

She looked at him with a suspicious expression.

“I picked up a couple bottles of Lafite—prephylloxera, the grail of Lafites—for a party I’m hosting this weekend,” he said. “Want to come along for a night or two? It’s in Berlin on the river Spree. I think you’d like my apartment there. I just had it redecorated by some hot young designer in Louis XV style.”

“Rococo. Groovy,” Annja said. She’d heard the term
prephylloxera
recently.

In a cozy wine cellar.

She leaned across the table, ignoring the mischievous twinkle in Garin’s eyes. “Would your wine dealer happen to be Daniel Collins?”

“None other.”

“And he was actually home?”

“Of course.” His smile turned mysterious and Annja felt her heart sink. “Why do you suspect he’d not be in residence?”

“I just…”

Garin delivered the coup de grâce of smug smiles. “You can’t expect that I would allow a friend—and good source of Lafite—to be detained by the authorities, do you?”

“You stopped the arrest?”

“Annja, you wound me. I would never dream of obstructing justice. And I had no idea an actual arrest was intended. But I may have suggested that Collins take inventory of any stock he might have and that he should relocate it while he did so.”

“Oh, you are too rich.”

“I am, as a matter of fact.” He sat back, running a hand down the front of a suit that likely had cost him thousands, without his checkbook breaking a sweat.

“I meant it facetiously,” she said. “How could you do that?”

“Annja, do you really want an explanation? I like to remain an enigma to you. It keeps the mystery and makes for a fascinating relationship.”

“We do not have a relationship.”

“Annja, you wound me. Here I thought we were family.”

“Family? We are the farthest—”

“There are many definitions of the term. One mustn’t be related by blood to feel a familial connection to another.”

The idea of family had been bothering her lately. And now here Garin Braden sat beside her, offering something she wasn’t sure she wanted, and yet couldn’t resist considering.

“Is there any more?” he asked, with a gesture to her root beer. She shoved the bottle toward him. He tipped back the remainder in a swallow. “So how did the faerie hunt go?”

That he generally knew everything she was involved in, sometimes down to her every footstep, had ceased to startle her. The man had his ways. He had people. He was a five-hundred-year-old immortal who manipulated the world to his whim. What more could she say?

And he considered her family.

In a mystical way, she probably was.

Annja sighed. “Faeries don’t exist, Garin. Or did I just spoil a childhood belief of yours? Did your mommy read you fairy tales when you were little?”

“We didn’t have books, Annja. None that my family could afford. And our fairy tales in the fifteenth century were more about dragons and virgin princesses. Why is it so difficult for you to believe in faeries? Why can’t you allow a little whimsy into your life?”

She stared at him. “Who
are
you?”

Garin flashed a million-dollar playboy smile. “If you’re not keen on the designation of family, then I’ll have to go with friend.”

“Try enemy.”

“Ally.”

“Nemesis.”

“Harsh. But not always unwarranted.” He shoved the empty bottle her way, dismissing the topic as easily. “So what plans have you got for your next adventure? Sea monster fishing off the coast of Wales? Chupacabra in Mexico?”

“We did the chupacabra last season.”

“Nice. So, what’s the verdict? Will you come to the party?”

“I don’t know… I don’t think I can swing it. I have to see Eric back to New York—”

“He’s a big boy. I’m sure he can handle the flight by himself. Might even meet a sexy young college student desperate for conversation.”

True. And Annja didn’t relish the long flight. “I didn’t pack for a party,” she said.

“You forget I know your dress size as well as your—”

“All right,” she replied, cutting him off before he’d mention that her bra size was also in his knowledge. “One day in Berlin, partying like a rock star.”

“I’ve some great wine for the occasion.”

She rolled her eyes. If the bottle she’d consumed had been worth five thousand, she didn’t want to know how much this Lafite cost. In Garin’s case he’d likely bartered. Such was his nefarious world of living large. She also did not want to know if he had gained illegal paperwork from Daniel. She just did not need to deal with that.

“Come on.” Garin stood and offered his wide, strong hand. “We’ll put the kid on a plane, then we’ll fly in my private jet to Germany.”

“We’ve got some filming to do before the flight leaves at midnight.”

“Fine. I’ll hold the jet while you two poke about in the woods. Deal? I do love spending time with you, Annja.”

Annja was looking forward to a little rest and relaxation. And sure, she could admit to curiosity about Garin’s party. If you couldn’t put the enemy away from you, it was always wise to keep them close to you.

T
HE BOG GLITTERED
under the setting sun. For the first time since Annja had set foot on Irish soil she could fully buy into the idea of mystical or magical beings. Even the air felt lighter, as if she could float as she walked across the blanket of spongy soil.

She approached Eric slowly, speaking as he recorded the final segment for the show.

“As the wind moves through your hair, and the rich, fragrant air invades your pores, the centuries past come alive. It’s possible that mighty warriors with mystical powers once tracked this land. Ancient rituals, some still practiced today by believers, have firmly cemented the supernatural to this realm. So close your eyes, and open your heart to the magic of the enchanted land of Éire.”

“That’s perfect, Annja.”

It did feel right. She ran her fingers through her hair, then let it fall loose as she tilted her head to the darkening sky. Already the stars twinkled faintly. The moon promised to be full in less than a week. This evening the air was so still, not even a cricket chirped.

“That’s beautiful,” Eric commented. And Annja realized he was still filming. “I got your silhouette against the dark sky and the moon. We wrapping?”

“Yes.” She twirled a finger as signal to cut and stop filming. “I think we got what we need. How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Not so bad. The fresh air is incredible. I can finally breathe again.”

“We’d better head into Cork.” She offered to carry his equipment to the Mini and they packed it up and drove toward Ballybeag, where they’d exchange Mr. Riley’s car for a taxi to Cork.

“I seriously thought it was faeries that took me,” Eric said from the passenger side. “Man, that was some crazy stuff. LSD? You know I’ve never done drugs before, Annja. I feel kinda lousy about that.”

“Don’t dwell on it, Eric. It wasn’t your fault. And, as the doctor explained, you will not become addicted. What are you going to tell your father?”

“The truth.” He shrugged. “But I don’t want Doug or you to get in trouble.”

“Whatever your father has to say to us, we can handle. I should have kept a closer watch on you.”

“I’m a big boy. My father knows that, too. I don’t think he’ll huff too loudly after I explain it was necessary to obtain the information for our story.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to him about the fact that his father could be involved in sending notary supplies to Daniel Collins. MI-6 hadn’t found proof, because Garin had tipped Daniel off. It was something father and son could work out together.

Family. It was never easy.

Berlin

“G
ARIN
.” R
OUX NODDED
as Garin entered the study. The old man had been examining his latest find displayed on a wood stand—the Concubine’s Jade. “This one must have set you back a pretty penny.”

“Pennies are worthless nowadays. That chunk of jade was all about the Ben Franklins,” Garin replied.

“Sixteenth century?”

“Rumored to possess untold powers of joy when the planets align just so and the moonlight flashes through the center of the stone.”

“As usual, joy remains elusive.” The old man chuckled and accepted the tumbler of Scotch Garin offered. “It’s odd when we find ourselves consuming hundred-year-old Scotch, isn’t it?” He tilted back a swallow and nodded satisfaction to its smooth texture.

“Only odd because we walked the world long before it was created.”

“Indeed. So about those charges on my credit card… Five hundred thousand to the Heifer Organization—a worthy cause—but really.”

“It’ll provide livestock to those in need. I personally buy a few arks of animals every year,” Garin said.

“Yes, but the other half million.” Roux narrowed his pale blue gaze on Garin, but such a look wasn’t capable of making him flinch. Garin had mastered indifference toward his once-master centuries ago. “The Infinity Life Cryogenics Society?”

Garin smiled. That had been Ruth Banyon’s dying wish. She’d wanted to be preserved cryogenically, until such a time when she could be defrosted, and well, after that it was all a bunch of nonsense to Garin.

Who was he to deny her?

Before he could explain, Roux’s attention was diverted behind him to the stairway. “Annja!”

“R
OUX
, I
DIDN’T KNOW
you’d be here.” Annja stepped off the bottom step and glanced around. The reception hall was vast and marble sparkled and gold accents glittered everywhere, but it was strangely quiet. “Where is everyone else?”

“The actual party doesn’t begin for another hour,” Garin, who wore a black tuxedo, the same as Roux, said. “Roux and I wanted to share a drink with you first. That dress fits you perfectly.”

She smoothed her palms down the white silk. It was fitted from shoulder to knee and clung to all her curves. Garin had left it in a guest room for her and allowed her to shower and relax a while. The dress was a nice change from tromping about in loose cargo pants or layered T-shirts and hiking boots.

The maid had helped her to sweep her chestnut hair into a chignon and said it called attention her brilliant hazel eyes. Taking compliments was never easy for Annja, but the change of clothing and location worked to release her inhibitions. She was in the mood for a party.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Roux asked. “That we keep you to ourselves a bit?”