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Bailey turned as Raymond stepped closer, his expression unreadable.
“Bailey, could I drag you away from Mr. Vincent for a bit? Mary was feeling poorly and wanted to visit with you before we leave.”
“Of course.” Bailey turned to John and saw the edge of worry in his gaze. No one would have realized it, or would have recognized it. But the familiarity to Trent slammed inside her. The same light in his gaze, the way the shade darkened even as she watched him, the slightest tightened curve to his lips.
“I’ll be back soon,” she promised. “I saw Ian and Kira arrive earlier, perhaps you could take the opportunity to invite them to lunch tomorrow as we discussed.”
She hadn’t discussed it, but she knew Ian was part of the group that John was working with, as was Kira. It was time to draw the players together and force the answers she needed.
“Don’t be long, sweetheart.” He lowered his head, kissing her cheek gently. “You know how I worry.”
He had every right to worry, as they both knew. Turning back to Raymond, she gave him a slight smile before moving with him across the ballroom.
It wasn’t an odd request. Mary often had bouts of weakness and retired to a bedroom or sitting room where she visited with her closest friends during the parties she attended. Crowds often made her jittery anyway.
“This way.” Raymond stepped into the foyer and led the way to a short hallway that led from it. “Ford was kind enough to loan us his sitting room.”
Kind enough. “Ford” and “kind” weren’t words that she thought would be synonymous with the man. He was kind to his sister, he loved his son. His grandchildren treasured him. But he had terrorized his wife and daughter, and, she suspected, had ordered their deaths.
He was the same man who had cried at her parents’ funeral and went to their graves on the anniversary of their deaths. The man whose servants had gossiped that he’d nearly destroyed the inside of his home the day his wife and daughter had been buried.
He played a damned good game, she had to give him credit for that.
Opening the door to the sitting room, Raymond showed her inside, but no one was there. Bailey turned quickly to find Raymond closing the door before clicking the lock slowly into place.
“Where’s Mary?” She gripped her purse loosely, her finger lying on the trigger of the weapon within the silk folds of the small bag.
“Stand down, Bailey.” He shot her a disgusted look as he moved for the bar, his stooped shoulders rigid with either tension or anger, it was never easy to tell with Raymond. “I’m not going to have you killed while your lover is waiting in the ballroom.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you arranged it.” She didn’t move her finger, but she relaxed marginally as he fixed himself a drink.
“Whisky and Coke?” He turned back to her, his heavy brow lifting in question as he gestured to the drinks.
Bailey nodded carefully. “What’s this about, Raymond?”
He finished fixing the drinks before moving back to her. “Have a seat, my dear.” He nodded to the chairs that sat in a small grouping to the side of the bar. “We need to talk.”
“Do we now?” She took her drink and accepted the chair closest to her as she watched him curiously. “And what do we have to talk about that would require such a private setting?”
Sitting down, Raymond leaned back in his chair, sipped at his own whisky, and let a smile touch his lips. “You’re rather good,” he stated after long moments. “I have to admit, even I had my doubts that you would turn your back on your own country until you covered our tracks in Iraq as you did just before your retirement.”
“You fucked up,” she snapped. “Damn, Raymond, I never thought you would have let yourself get burned so easily.”
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nbsp; She hadn’t been certain he had been involved until now. All she had known was where the trail had led, and the prints that had been lifted from the secured Army barracks that had held the confiscated plutonium found in a hidden, underground vault beneath Saddam Hussein’s castle.
“Very nearly,” he agreed. “We were working within a tighter schedule than we had assumed. Unfortunately, the prize wasn’t nearly as rich as we had assumed. The plutonium was unusable, I’m afraid. Saddam, it seemed, wasn’t nearly as bright as he led some of us to assume.”
Bailey sat back in her chair, forcing herself to keep her expression enigmatic, not to give up the fact that she had never truly been certain that Raymond was involved.
“Warbucks appreciated your efforts,” he murmured, watching her, his gaze narrow, thoughtful.
“That’s always nice to know.” Leaning back herself, she watched him for long moments, seeing a side to Greer that she had only suspected existed. She had always known he was cold, hard, superior, but what he was showing now was a casual confidence, a self assurance that attested to the fact that he now had the upper hand.
“I haven’t figured out exactly what you’d hoped to gain in the past years though,” he finally sighed. “We’ve watched you, of course, especially since I took over the day-to-day operations of the ventures he partakes of. You’ve gone to great lengths to protect him. Why?”
Bailey crossed her knees, rested her elbow on them, and sipped at her whisky as she considered the question.
