AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“To what point, my friend? Blackmail? Or did you want exclusive access to the RDX-a?”
It was Temple who answered. As Niema watched, John’s face altered ever so slightly, his eyes taking on a flat quality. “Whoever has the compound will make a lot of money in a very short time. Plus . . . I have some uses for it.”
“You could have bought whatever amount you needed.”
“And you would make the money.”
“So that’s what this is all about? Just money?”
“It’s always about money.”
“And her?” Ronsard indicated Niema. “I assume she’s your partner.”
“I don’t have partners.”
“Then she is . . . ?”
“She isn’t involved in this. Let her go,” John said softly.
In a heartbeat Ronsard had the gun off Niema and on John, his finger already on the trigger. “Don’t play me for a fool,” he said, his voice low and deadly.
Niema slipped her right hand up behind her back and gripped the pistol tucked in her waistband. Ronsard caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and started to turn, but she already had the pistol out and leveled at his head.
“Perhaps,” she murmured in her best Medina imitation, “you should be asking me the questions. Drop the pistol.”
“I don’t think so,” Ronsard said, still holding his weapon on John. “Are you willing to risk your lover’s life? He wasn’t willing to risk yours.”
She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “Just move over there beside him.”
Both men froze. John seemed to have stopped breathing, his face going white. Ronsard stared at her in astonishment, then began laughing mirthlessly. Niema didn’t dare take her eyes off Ronsard, but she was almost paralyzed herself by the risk she was taking. With John’s history, a wife he had killed rather than let her betray two men, for another lover to betray him would be devastating, so devastating that not even his superhuman control could hold. His reaction was crucial, because Ronsard had to believe it.
“My apologies, Monsieur Temple,” Ronsard said to John. “It appears we were both used.”
“Sorry, darling.” She gave John an insincere smile. “I have the disk. While you were sleeping last night, I sort of confiscated it.” He knew that was a lie. Not only had she not left the bed last night except to visit the head, getting the disk didn’t mean anything now that the information had already been sent to Langley. She looked back at Ronsard, to keep his attention on her instead of on John. “I would introduce myself, but it’s better if I don’t. I’d like to put a proposition to you, Louis—one that would benefit both of us.”
“In what way?”
She smiled again. “The CIA is very interested in . . . reaching an agreement with you. We don’t want to put you out of business. You could be very valuable to us, and vice versa. You have access to a lot of very interesting information—and we’re willing to pay you well for it.”
“So would other governments,” he said, his eyes still cold.
Niema kept an eye on John as well as Ronsard, willing him not to spoil the setup. “Not as much as we can. And there’s an added bonus.”
“Such as?”
“A heart.”
The softly spoken words fell into a silence that seemed complete. John started, then halted himself. Ronsard’s face twisted with hatred. “You dare,” he whispered. “You dare bargain with my daughter’s life?”
“I’m offering the services of the United States government in finding a heart for her. Those are services you can’t match, no matter how much money you have. Even a new heart might not save her, but at least she’ll have a chance to hold on until other cures can be found.”
He hung there, a father’s anguish on his face. “Done,” he said roughly, no haggling, no jockeying for position. His love for Laure was genuine and absolute. He would do anything, even sell his soul to the devil, to save her. Working with the CIA was nothing in comparison. He lowered his weapon and nodded toward John. “What about him?”
“Mr. Temple?” Niema shrugged as she lowered her own weapon. It was a risk, but one she felt she had to take to make this agreement work. “He’s . . . a bonus, so to speak. I wasn’t expecting to have his aid in the job, but since he was there, and so good at it, I let him do it.” She had to keep John’s cover, she thought. His identity as Joseph Temple couldn’t be questioned.
John bent down and scooped up his pistol. Niema couldn’t read his expression. His face was still pale, his eyes as dead as she had ever seen them. He started toward Ronsard.
“Temple!” she said sharply, just as a sound drew her attention to the right.
