“I apologize.”
She nods. She accepts my apology.
“Now tell me why your company’s keeping a file on me. The real reason. And don’t tell me it doesn’t exist. Randy Clifford discovered it before you had him killed.”
There, I’ve gone and done it; once again my impatience has overridden my caution. I’ve thrown down a challenge I can’t take back. Now Brutran realizes I know about the dark side of IIC’s business deals. I sharpen my focus, using all my senses, to see how the information affects her, and again I’m stunned by her control. Her expression remains impassive.
“I’m afraid that name doesn’t ring a bell,” she says.
“Does the name Marko?”
“Who’s that?”
“The hit man who murdered Randy. IIC paid for the contract on him.”
Ms. Brutran is amused. “I’m sure you have proof to support these wild accusations?”
“Of course. I never leave home without a pocketful of proof.”
“Ms. Perne—”
“Alisa, please. If I may call you Cynthia.”
“I prefer Cindy.”
“Cindy it is.”
“Alisa, I agreed to see you because of the reason I stated. You’re wealthy, and my firm is interested in investing your wealth. But as to these wild accusations you’re making, I must say they seem beneath a person of your stature.”
Slowly, I turn up the power of my gaze. Brutran doesn’t flinch. Indeed, I feel an odd power radiating back from her, one I’ve never felt before.
“Who are you?” I whisper.
“I told you who I am.”
“What do you want with me?”
“I told you that as well.”
“But you’re lying, we both know that. Why the games?”
“I’m a businesswoman, Alisa. I don’t play games.” She leans closer. “It’s important you understand this clearly. This meeting is important to our whole firm.”
She’s trying to tell me something without saying it aloud. There’s also power in her words. She’s trying to implant a suggestion inside me. Because I’m aware of the psychic trick, I’m able to block it. But I struggle to figure out her hidden message.
“Then tell me the true nature of your business,” I say.
She smiles. “Why should I?”
“Perhaps I can help you. Perhaps we can help each other.”
She shakes her head. “Honestly, I doubt you would help us. At least not willingly.”
Us.
“You think I need to be motivated,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Then you must know who I am,” I reply, straining with my mental antennae to pick up even a fragment of her thoughts. But I get . . . nothing.
“We have some idea.”
I scan the room, searching for hidden cameras, listening devices. I see nothing, but that means nothing. They could be built into the very walls. Yet there’s a strange dead sound to the room. Our words hit the walls and don’t bounce back. I assume she employs an exotic form of soundproofing.
She has referred to “us” and “we.” She’s telling me our conversation is not private. She might also be warning me that if I try to attack her, I will be cut down.
“Tell me what you want with me,” I say.
“Maybe later.”
“I didn’t come here to harm you.”
“Then why did you come?”
“For information.”
For the first time, I appear to have said something the woman did not expect. She frowns, and I finally realize she’s listening to an implant buried deep in her ear. Yet the technology must be advanced. I can’t hear what her associates are telling her.
“You can always put them on speakerphone,” I taunt her.
She gestures, as if to brush aside my comment, or else the ones in her head, I’m not sure. Then she points to the door. “I think it would be best if you left. Now.”
Since she has implied that there are guns trained on my body, I take her advice. But I don’t want her to think I fear her. Quite the contrary.
“Shanti Garuda,” I say. “You’ve taken a contract out on her as well. Due to conditions beyond his control, Marko won’t be assassinating her or anyone else anytime soon. And I’d advise you not to hire another assassin.”
Nothing surprises this woman. She reacts as cold as ever.
“How is she any business of yours?” she asks.
I stand. “She’s a friend of mine. I want her left alone.”
Brutran also stands. “This is my building, my company. I give the orders here.”
She is definitely threatening to kill me. This instant. I’m forced to back down, a feeling I despise. “You’re right, Ms. Brutran, this is your place. I’ll leave you now.”
“Later, Alisa.”
“Definitely.”
NINE
Lisa Fetch answers the door of her condo after peering through the eyehole. At least she’s displaying some caution, but I doubt she’s ready to hear everything I have to tell her. She hastily invites me inside.
“Did you meet with Ms. Brutran?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“How did it go?”
“Before I answer, I’d like to know if you’ve heard from Jeff.”
“Not a word. I’m so worried.”
“Take me to where he lives.”
“Why?”
“I want to examine the place. Let’s go now.”
“Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“No.” It’s a hard no, difficult for her to resist.
Fearful, reluctant, Lisa nevertheless climbs in my rental and we speed over to her boyfriend’s place. My driving scares her; she worries I’ll get a ticket. She doesn’t know all I have to do is smile at a policeman and he’ll walk away.
Jeff lives in an actual house. I ask Lisa to remain in my car while I go inside. She resists, naturally, she wants to come along, but finally gives me a key to open the door. I tell her to shout if anyone approaches the car. Yet I feel we’re safe, for the time being. I know we weren’t followed. That was one reason I drove so fast.
I smell the blood the instant I enter the house.
I remember Jeff’s smell from his visit. It’s his blood.