Crown Jewel (29 page)

She walked over to the bed and stared down at Gracie. “I think she looks a lot better, don't you?” she whispered. Roxy nodded.

“Get some sleep, dear. I brought a book with me. The time will pass quickly.”

“Ma'am, I was just speaking with my father. The vice president is on the island. Dad wants you to be ready to go with him at seven o'clock in the morning. There are Secret Service agents all over the place. As far as I know, no one knows you're here but us. My father wants to keep it that way.”

Lorraine nodded before she shooed them out of the room.

“I'm going to bed unless you need me, Tyler.”

“We got it covered, Roxy. Hey, wait a minute. I want to show you something.”

Roxy stared down at the diamond winking at her in its velvet nest. “It's beautiful. I'm assuming it's for Donna. I'm so happy for you, Tyler. When are you going to give it to her?”

“Tomorrow. Today, actually,” he said, looking down at his watch. “Sleep tight, Roxy.”

“You, too, Tyler,” Roxy said as she headed for the elevator.

 

It was a beautiful house, with beautifully landscaped grounds. It was a pity he couldn't appreciate the beauty at such a late hour. His host or hostess was absent, thanks to whoever made the last-minute arrangements. There was a live-in housekeeper to see to his needs and, of course, the agents guarding him.

He'd tried to cloak the whole trip in secrecy but knew word had leaked out. Possibly by either his host or his hostess because they were American. In the end it probably wasn't going to matter.

It was one minute to midnight according to his watch. Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed the hour. Any hope of meeting with Ricky Lam so late was just wishful thinking. Still, he wasn't going to call off his agents. That movie star needed to know exactly who he was dealing with. The morning would be soon enough.

He had finally relaxed. In just a few hours he would be able to lay all this nonsense to rest. Hollywood would have to find someone else to torture because it sure as hell wasn't going to be him.

 

They converged on him like a swarm of locusts when he walked through the lobby at six forty-five the following morning. Agent Zirconie identified himself before he drew him aside, and said quietly, “The vice president of the United States would like you to accompany me to where he's staying. You can drive your own car if you like. He said the two of you had a phone conversation in which you said you would agree to meet with him. The vice president is on a very tight schedule, Mr. Lam.”

“This might surprise you, Agent Zirconie, but I'm on a pretty tight schedule myself. I need time to shower and shave. I can be ready in half an hour, not one minute sooner. I also need a cup of coffee.”

“I find that satisfactory, Mr. Lam. I'll be waiting right here for you.”

Ricky nodded as he made his way to the elevator. The minute the door closed behind him, his clenched fist shot in the air.

Roxy was brushing her teeth when Ricky entered their suite. He kissed her lightly on the cheek before reaching across her to turn on the shower. “I have half an hour to shave and get dressed. Call Lorraine for me and have her come to this room. We'll meet the agents together. Did you order coffee? How's Gracie?”

“It's on the way, and Gracie is doing okay. Max is with her now. She's going to be doing a lot of sleeping. That's a good thing, Ricky. Are you nervous?”

“Hell yes, I'm nervous. I imagine Lorraine is a physical wreck. It doesn't matter because we're going to do what we have to do so Philly can rest in peace. I could really use some coffee, Roxy. By the way, I won sixty-six dollars at the casino last night. How would you like to go to lunch?”

“I'd love it if you're buying! Coffee's here,” she called as she opened the door. While the waiter poured the coffee, Roxy rang Lorraine Farquar's room.

“It's Roxy, Lorraine. She's doing fine, she's sleeping. Ricky wants you to come down to our room by seven. Secret Service agents have been in the lobby all evening. They don't know about you, yet. I'll talk to you later.”

Roxy carried the cup of coffee into the bathroom, along with Ricky's one cigarette.

She returned to the sitting room and turned on the television. It was too early for the talk shows and gossip, so she was forced to settle for local news, which bored her to tears.

She closed her eyes and thought about Philip Lam. She hoped he was in a better place. A place where he was finally at peace. Her eyes snapped open when Ricky snapped his fingers.

She smiled. “What is it, Oh Mighty Sir? Ooh, you look good, and you smell good, too.” And he did, in his creased khakis and white button-down shirt, whose sleeves were rolled to the middle of his arms. She did love his deep tan and the whitish crinkles around his eyes. Her heartbeat quickened.

“What were you thinking just now?” Ricky asked.

“Before or after I opened my eyes and saw how delectable you looked?”

“Before.”

“I was thinking about your brother, hoping he's in a better place and finally at peace.”

Ricky sat down opposite her. He propped his elbows on his knees and stared at her. “That's so strange, Roxy. I was thinking almost the same thing. Actually, I was talking to him in my mind. I was telling him we were in the home stretch. Where's the file?”

Roxy pointed to the table. “It's all there. I guess the agents will have to look through it.”

“It doesn't matter to me if they see it. They can't repeat or talk about it. The vice president might have some objections, but I don't much care.” He got up when a knock sounded at the door. He opened it to admit Lorraine Farquar.

She looks scared out of her wits,
was Roxy's first thought. In the time it took her heart to beat twice, she was across the room. “You can do this, Lorraine. You're the big player in this game. Don't let the man or his office intimidate you. Think about that wonderful new family you have now. Think in terms of all the years that man robbed from you. Ricky will be right there beside you.”

“Bless your heart, Roxy, for everything. Yes, I'm very nervous. I know I can do it because I have to do it. For Caleb. That's my son's name.”

Roxy and Ricky watched in awe as the older woman's shoulders stiffened and her gaze grew determined and defiant. “I'm ready now, Ricky, to rip out that son of a bitch's guts.”

“Attagirl, Lorraine. Kick ass and take names later. That was always your son's motto.” Roxy grinned.

“I'm so glad you told me that, dear. Thank you. I just love hearing things about him.”

 

He was dressed in a charcoal gray suit. His shirt was pristine white, his tie conservative. Every hair was in place. He didn't think he would be nervous, but he was.

He hadn't slept a wink. Instead, he'd paced, rehearsing what he was going to say to the movie star. When he felt he had it down pat, he practiced in front of the vanity mirror to make sure every facial expression, every nuance was letter-perfect. He'd always been a quick study as well as a quick starter.

The first rule in intimidation was to have your adversaries sitting while you remained standing, so you could tower above them. And if the tide turned in the adversaries' direction, you never let them see you sweat. You smiled like you knew a secret you weren't ready to divulge.

Everyone had a price. What was Ricky Lam's? He had to admit he didn't know. It couldn't be money, the man was a millionaire many times over. He owned vast amounts of real estate and these resorts. He already had all the fame he could handle. Power. One could never have enough power. Power was the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world. Power was the one thing the man didn't have. A man, any man, would be a fool not to covet power. When he was president, he would appoint him ambassador to some god-forsaken place. If that didn't work, possibly a more important role in his new administration.

That's exactly what he would do.

The knock on the front door was so loud, Nolan almost jumped out of his skin. Not bothering to wait for the housekeeper, he opened it himself. He felt his insides start to crumble when he looked into Lorraine Farquar's eyes. She shouldered her way past him as though he were a homeless vagrant. Ricky Lam followed.

Nolan closed the door, knowing the perimeter was well guarded. He knew he had to seize the moment. He turned, his face schooled to blankness. “It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Farquar.” He held out his hand to Ricky, who merely stared at him, his hands clenched into fists inside his pockets. The manila envelope was tucked under his arm.

“Let's get to it, Mr. Vice President. Time is money, and I'm a busy man. By the way, that was my brother's favorite saying.”

“Your brother is dead. Why are you doing this? What can you possibly hope to gain?”

“I'm trying to do the only thing my brother ever asked of me. He wrote me a letter before he died. He searched all his life for his real parents. It was important for him to know what his name was. His real name. He died not knowing. He asked me to tell his parents he died and had they kept him, he would have honored and loved them till the day he died, because that's what a child is supposed to do in regard to his parents. Now, I've told you. That's all I came here today to tell you.”

“What is it
you
want, then? Are you going to stop that stupid movie business?”

“No. What
I
want is for you to resign your office and leave Washington. That's what I personally want.”

“Well, that isn't going to happen, Mr. Lam. I'm running for the presidency.”

“No,
Vincent,
you will not be running for the presidency,” Lorraine said. “I want you to sit down, and I want you to read every single piece of paper in this envelope. Then I want you to tell me what you're going to do.” She tossed the envelope to him. He had no recourse but to reach for it. He refused to sit down, though.

Nolan's insides churned as he read through the contents of the envelope. “This is blackmail!”

“No,
Vincent,
it is not blackmail. What you have in your hands are statements of fact. Because of you I never got to know my son. You threw him away, and I rescued him. You can lie and say you didn't do what you did, but I don't think your adoring public will believe you. I'm going to do the talk-show circuit as soon as I go back home.”

“For Christ's sake, Lorraine, he's
dead
. What good is this going to do for anyone?”

“Just looking at you makes me sick. Hearing you say those things makes me want to vomit. He wasn't some piece of garbage. He was a human being. He was my son. He was your son, too. Personally speaking, I'm glad he wasn't part of that phony all-American family of yours. I think he would have been very disappointed in you. You weren't fit to lick his boots.”

“And I suppose you were fit. You were out there peddling your ass when you were fourteen years old. What does that make you,
Mrs. Farquar?”

“It makes me underage, Mr. Vice President. Notch Number 7. You do remember that, don't you?”

“He's dead, let him rest in peace.” His voice sounded so desperate, he thought he was going to be sick.

Ricky bounded out of his chair when Lorraine started to cry. “My brother didn't matter in life, and he doesn't matter in death. Is that what you're saying?” His voice sounded so threatening, the vice president backed up several steps.

“That's not what I said.” He was going to get sick any second.

Ricky reached into his pocket for his wallet. He stared at the picture of himself and Philly before he handed it over. “I want you to look at your son. I want you to commit his face to memory because his face is going to haunt you for the rest of your days, Mr. Vice President. One last thing, my brother wouldn't have been impressed with you one little bit.”

Ricky looked at Lorraine, who was dabbing at her eyes. She stood up and walked to Ricky's side. “My son kept the box I took him to the orphanage in. It said, Baby Doe #7. I wanted you to know that,
Vincent
. I also want you to know I'm going to get a new birth certificate for my son. And we'll be changing his death certificate, too. I guess I don't have anything else to say. Ricky, what would my son say if he were here now?”

Ricky smiled as he reached for Lorraine's arm. “He'd say, Mr. Vice President, you are a piss-poor excuse for a man.”

He didn't want to beg or grovel, but he was doing it. “Please, Lorraine, Mr. Lam, don't do this. I have a family. I'll appoint both of you to prestigious positions in my administration. I'll do whatever you want. Please…” He reached for Lorraine's arm.

She shook him off. “I think what my son would have said to you is what I myself think right this moment. You are a piss-poor excuse for a man.”

Outside, in the early-morning sunlight, Lorraine, her eyes full of tears, hugged Ricky, while the Secret Service agents looked on, their expressions stoic. “I feel…I feel, not good but close to it. Can I take my family and go home now?”