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He couldn’t believe he had very nearly let her down. That he had almost allowed her to be taken out of his life. One thing was for certain. It wouldn’t happen again. And when he found out who had given Alberto Rodriquez her identity and hired him to kill her, then John promised to exac
t a very painful revenge.
He checked his watch again, paced the room, and waited for Travis to call. Waited to know the name of the man who would soon die.
RAYMOND ENTERED HIS PRIVATE office rather than the library and glanced at Myron, who sat with his hands in front of his head before the blazing fireplace.
The man looked haggard, but he invariably did whenever he was forced to deal with Warbucks. There had been a time when Raymond had wondered if Myron’s employer, Samuel Waterstone, was the traitor, but he had dropped that idea rather fast. Waterstone more amused Myron than anything else. Warbucks kept Myron’s nerves on edge, though.
“He’s still upset?” Raymond asked as he moved back to his desk.
“The man is a psychopath.” Myron sighed.
Over the past years Myron had taken to confiding in him, as though he needed someone with whom to discuss the issues that concerned him over Warbucks. In the past years, the traitor had been concerning Myron more and more. The rages were becoming more violent, the orders often more dangerous.
“Perhaps after this deal, we’ll have a bit of a break,” Raymond stated. “He usually takes a small vacation before planning his next venture.”
Myron shook his head. “Do you realize how many men died stealing those missiles, Raymond? Good men.”
The men who stole those missiles hadn’t been good men. They had been mercenaries who worked for an exorbitant price. All the same, many had been killed during the theft Warbucks had set up. It didn’t matter how many generals you blackmailed for certain information; you’d still have loyal soldiers. A lot of good soldiers had died. American boys whose lives should have mattered more than they had. That was the waste there. Those were the good men who had lost their lives.
“It’s going to be hard for him to top the sale of these missiles.” Raymond shrugged as though it didn’t matter either way to him. “Hasn’t he stated that each sale will be bigger than the one before it?”
Perhaps that was what worried Myron. It sure as hell worried Raymond, because the only thing bigger would be biological weapons.
“He’s going to get us all killed.” Myron rose to his feet, paced to the mantel, and stared down at the fire before lifting his gaze to Raymond once more. “I’ve worked with him for sixteen years now. I’ve watched him, year by year, getting more and more dangerous. He’s convinced he can’t be caught. That luck so favors him, he can’t lose.”
That didn’t sound like Ford. Still, Raymond knew there was much he didn’t know about his brother-in-law. Ford kept his own council except for the three men he had grown up with. Waterstone, Claymore and Menton-Squire were his only friends. His only confidants. Raymond couldn’t see him confiding this in the other three men, though. He sure as hell knew they weren’t working together on it. They couldn’t agree on the time of day, let alone something as important as the theft and sale of American military weapons.
“His concern with Ms. Serborne’s safety eludes me.” Raymond moved to the bar and fixed himself and Myron a drink. “It’s not as though shares in her companies could make or break him, is it?”
Myron shook his head. “Fucking pocket change.”
“Then why go to such lengths? Orion was on a monthly retainer to keep her alive. Why would he care? Let the bastard kill her if she’s causing him that much trouble.”
Myron gave a hard, mocking laugh. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” He accepted the drink Raymond handed him. “It’s not the money.”
“Really? What else could motivate him?”
Myron looked thoughtful a moment before giving a heavy sigh. “I asked him that once.” He shook his head. “Right after he placed Orion on retainer to keep her alive.” Myron looked confused for a moment. “He said she was all he had left to remind him of something. He never said what?”
His child perhaps, Raymond thought. If Ford Grace was indeed Warbucks, then the murder of his child could be playing on his conscience. But then, if he was Warbucks, he likely didn’t have a conscience.
“Ah well, it likely won’t matter for long,” Raymond stated as he took his chair in front of the fire.
“Why is that?” Raymond sat down slowly in the chair across from him.
Raymond shook his head. “Vincent is a bit irritated. He believes Warbucks may have hired Rodriquez.”
“No way.” Myron shook his head quickly. “He’s enraged. He’s ordered me to bring whoever it was straight to him the moment I found out. He wants to kill him himself.”
Raymond shrugged. “So I suspected and informed Mr. Vincent. He wasn’t convinced. I would suggest making some gesture of goodwill or encouraging our employer to hurry this process, perhaps in Vincent’s favor. I fear when Ms. Serborne is ready to travel, he may be disappearing for a while. He seems rather fond of her.”
Myron sighed. “Vincent is known to have had few relationships, but in those he did have, he was rather protective of the ladies. He’s known for his valiant attitude toward them. Almost chivalrous, despite his sexual relationships with them.”
“Strange,” Raymond murmured as though he didn’t quite understand it.
“Just so,” Myron stated as he sipped at his drink. “I’ll meet with Warbucks and see what I can do. I agree with you, a gesture of goodwill is definitely called for. And I believe he’s merely been stringing Vincent along in some asinine little game of his. He would accept no one but Bailey’s, choice, I believe.”
