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"I did." Knollwood blew a ring of smoke over Rem's head. "Are you ready to use it?"
"Did you bring my money?"
"My
money, Gresham, my money." Knollwood snapped open a small leather bag, exposing piles of neatly stacked bills. "Your loan, but my money. Don't forget that." "I won't." Making a quick mental assessment, Rem concluded that the full amount was there. "All right. Where's the note you want me to sign?"
"Right here." Knollwood reached into his pocket and withdrew a single sheet of paper. "Sign at the bottom."
"After I read what I'm signing." Rem scanned the document, unsurprised by the exorbitant amount of interest Knollwood was demanding. "My instincts had better not fail me," he muttered just loud enough for Knollwood to hear. "These terms are outrageous."
"You're reconsidering your original intentions?"
"No. I still believe my ship will succeed. I'll find a way to ensure it will."
"How?"
"That's my problem." Rem paused. "Unless you have a suggestion. In which case, I'm listening."
Taut with anticipation, Rem awaited Knollwood's next, all-important response.
"I'm a businessman, Gresham, not a prophet." Knollwood jabbed his finger at the signature line. "Now, pen your name. Unless you don't want the funds after all."
Studying Knollwood through narrowed eyes, Rem had his answer. The despicable parasite wasn't the national culprit they sought. Evidently, he wasn't astute enough to pull off so sophisticated a scheme.
Rem scrawled his name and shoved the document back at Knollwood. "Here. Now my money."
Thrusting the bag into Rem's hands, Knollwood didn't release it until the note was safely tucked in his waistcoat. "I'll be in touch," he promised, relinquishing his grip on the bag's handle. "Soon. And Gresham ... I'm sure I don't need to remind you not to do anything stupid. I always keep abreast of my business associates ... and their friends."
"I don't doubt it."
"Speaking of which—how is Lady Samantha Barrett faring these days?" Rem's guts clenched.
"She's a beauty, Gresham. Fresh from the schoolroom, too. Quite a change from your usual sort. She must be an avid learner in bed."
"You filthy bastard." Rem's cool veneer dissipated in a heartbeat. Lunging forward, he grabbed Knollwood by the throat. "If you ever even mention Samantha's name again, I'll break every bone in your despicable body."
"Let me go, Gresham," Knollwood rasped.
Rem's thumb depressed on Knollwood's windpipe. Vehemently, he averted his head, calling, "I've had all I can take. Templar, Harris—get this scum out of here."
On the heels of Rem's command, the sound of rustling trees and thudding feet split the night. Before Knollwood could move, Templar had a gun pointed at his head.
"B-But you came alone," Knollwood stammered at Rem.
"No, I just happen to know what hiding places your men don't check." With a chilling expression, Rem released his hostage.
Knollwood rubbed his neck with shaking hands. "I'll lessen the payments. And increase your time to pay them."
"Really? How reassuring." In one casual, adept motion, Rem extracted the note from Knollwood's pocket, tearing it once, twice, three times, and scattering the pieces to the wind. "Payments? What payments?"
"What do you want, Gresham? The
money?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Knollwood. If all I wanted was your money, I needn't have gone to so much trouble. I'd just have taken it."
"Then what do you want?"
