Authors: Pearl Moon
Stone, Katherine (31 page)
"We have lots of ashtrays," Maylene observed as her gaze
fell to the Florentine marble receptacles on the floor. "That's
good."
"Is it? Don't tell me you've taken up smoking."
"No. But..." Two nights ago you asked me to go gambling
with you. We'd drink champagne, you said, and you'd teach me how to smoke.
"I thought you'd want to."
"I don't smoke, Jade. I quit last summer—forever." Sam's
eyes embellished his words.
I
quit, last summer, for you.
"Remember?"
"Yes." She did remember, without his help, but now his
gaze was drifting to her lips.
"I'm very glad I quit." Sam might have kissed her then.
He wanted to, and her lips smiled in courageous welcome—but the welcoming lips
were also faintly blue. "Why don't you change out of your wet clothes
while I do a little more foraging?"
***
Sam returned twenty minutes later, his arms filled with bedding.
Maylene sat on the carpet. Her wet clothes lay nearby, as did her
cowboy boots, and she was cloaked in a bulky robe. A dry towel lay on her lap
and her hair glistened with droplets.
She was resting, needing rest, as if the effort of changing
clothes had exhausted her and it would be a while before the arms from which so
much blood had been drained would be able to take on the task of drying her
hair.
"Let me," Sam offered as he took the towel from her pale
hands. "Let me know if I'm being too rough."
He wasn't rough at all. The hands that coaxed the chilling dampness
from her hair were exquisitely gentle. Despite the gentleness, he sensed how
weak she was—how she struggled to find even the energy to sit.
"Are you dizzy, Maylene?"
She'd been dizzy since awakening at the Hilton, and the whirling
only increased as she'd compelled the body that needed rest to walk, first to
her apartment at the Trade Winds, where she'd showered and changed, then to
Blake Pier, where she'd found the last sampan before the storm. She'd sailed
across the harbor amid winds intent on blowing her into the sea.
Yes, she was dizzy. And there was a new dizziness—because of Sam.
She wanted to float to him, but the body that had already been pushed too far
threatened, quite simply, to collapse.
"I'm a little tired. I slept for hours last night, but—"
"You donated a great deal of blood." Sam parted the veil
of black silk curtaining her face. "Why don't you take a nap?
The real show isn't going to begin for a few hours."
"I suppose I should."
"Okay. Let me get your bed ready for you."
What Sam made for Maylene was more nest than bed, a thick, cozy
pile of soft sheets and plush blankets. When her nest was ready, he reached for
her hands. She swayed as she stood, but was instantly steadied by his arms.
"Thank you. I'm still a little wobbly."
"Sleep will help."
Sam wanted to tuck her in. Maylene didn't resist. When she was
curled into the nest, and he asked if she'd like to hear a bedtime story, she
answered with a dreamy smile.
"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess," he began.
"Her eyes were the color of jade, and she was very lovely, in so many
ways—in
all
ways—but she..." His exhausted princess was fast
asleep. As he kissed her pale white temple, Sam whispered, "But she didn't
understand how lovely she was... or how much the cowboy loved her."
***
The violence inside Peak Castle began as darkness fell over Hong
Kong. It lasted less than an hour, but it was more devastating than anything
that had come before. There was no pretense of passion, just brutal punishment.
When it was over, Eve fought to remain conscious, to keep her own
darkness from falling.
Had Geoffrey slammed her head against the marble staircase? she
wondered vaguely as her thoughts floated in the graying haze. Or had so much
blood pooled in her bruises there wasn't enough left for her brain?
Perhaps it was her heart that shattered, having realized the truth
to which her floating thoughts were drifting. Geoffrey was going to kill her.
Tonight.
Soon.
Eve was in the great room, where Geoffrey had left her. He was
somewhere in the castle and would be back.
By the time he returns, Eve's dying brain decided, I'll be gone.
I'll dash up the marble staircase and down the stairs outside. It doesn't
matter that I'm naked. Nothing matters... except getting to Tyler.
She didn't dash, couldn't dash, but her bruised body made a
valiant move toward the promise of Tyler. When she heard Geoffrey's ugly laugh
behind her, she willed her bloodless legs to climb faster.
Geoffrey's laugh grew closer, and uglier.
"You can't go anywhere, Eve." He grabbed her, turned
her, met her with a nasty smile. "We're expecting company. Here." He shoved
a negligee at her. "I brought you something to wear. Not that it's really
necessary."
"What do you mean?"
Geoffrey relished her terror. "Why don't you come listen to
the phone call I've just made? It's recorded, as all calls to and from the
castle are. You didn't know that, did you, Eve— or should I say
Evangeline?"
Geoffrey's fist imprisoned her arm, crushing her flesh all the way
to the bone, but Eve was empowered by fear—and love. She twisted away,
surprising and delighting him. He permitted her three precious steps toward
freedom before recapturing her.
"Let's go listen to the phone call... princess."
***
In the room hidden behind the bookshelves, Geoffrey regaled Eve
with the marvels of his surveillance system before torturing her with the
recording of the phone call he'd made.
"Hello," the beloved voice said. It was a loving voice,
too, because Eve alone had the unlisted number of the apartment on Robinson
Road.
"Hello, Tyler," the hated voice replied. "It's
Geoffrey. I suspect you're wondering how I got this number? Eve gave it to me.
In fact, I'm calling for Eve. She's told me everything, Tyler, and although to
say I'm displeased would be an understatement, Eve's made it quite clear I have
no choice but to accept the situation as gracefully as possible." To that
point, Geoffrey's tone had been congenial. It cooled considerably as he
continued, "Frankly, old chap, I'm sufficiently annoyed that I want Eve to
leave the castle tonight. She's packing her things now, and we'd both
appreciate it if you'd come and get her. The winds are already quite strong up
here, but you're a pro at driving faster than the wind—aren't you, Tyler?"
"May I speak with—"
The tape continued to move but there weren't any words, only a
hissing sound. After a moment, Geoffrey pressed a button that activated both
Rewind and Erase.
Arching an eyebrow at his stricken wife, he remarked, "I'd
call that propitious feng shui. The phone went dead at the precise moment Tyler
wanted to speak with you. What do you think, Eve? Did he believe me? Not that
it really matters. I'm certain our hero will be arriving at any moment."
"What are you planning to do?"
Geoffrey answered her with the ominous gleam she knew well, the
eagerness of a predator about to savage his prey. "You'll find out. Let's
just say you and your lover are going to get everything you deserve."
Geoffrey glowered at the diaphanous gown still clutched in her hands. It was
provocative, to be worn for a lover, its transparent silk revealing every naked
secret. Tonight Eve's lover would also see massive bruises on her snow-white
skin. "Now get dressed."
***
"Hello, my love."
"James," Allison whispered.
For almost twenty-four hours, this had been the extent of their
dialogue. Her eyes would flutter open, and she'd see his smile and whisper his
name. Then, smiling too, she'd drift back to the sleep so necessary for her
healing body.
But two hours earlier, she whispered words that stopped his heart.
"Seat belt."
For James, "seat belt" meant death. The police had
confirmed the presence of a bomb in his Jaguar. The detonator had been
connected to the seat belt buckle, programmed to send its deadly impulse twenty
seconds after the belt was fastened. It was the only way, they surmised, that
the intended victim, not the hotel's valet, would be killed.
For two hours James had waited for Allison to awaken again. Now
she had—but already her eyelids were fluttering closed. "Allison?"
With effort, she answered, "Yes, James?"
"Do you have the energy for a few questions?"
Her eyes opened. "I'll try."
"Good. These questions may seem too easy, but the doctors
want me to test your memory. So, do you remember why you were in the
Jaguar?"
She smiled. "You wanted me to drive you to Aberdeen... for
dinner... as you'd promised in June."
Restlessness flooded his hands, and his heart pumped with rage.
But James kept his murderous thoughts from his voice, and from his eyes.
"Did I call you to make those plans?"
"No." Allison searched her foggy memory. "Alex
did."
"Who's Alex?"
James thought she might not answer—that, despite her efforts,
sleep was about to win. "Mrs. Leong's assistant."
"Very good," he said softly. "Just one last
question. Did Alex specifically remind you to fasten the seat belt?"
As Allison nodded her reply, her eyes closed. James kissed her
lips and whispered, "Sleep well, my love."
And while you sleep, my love, I'll find the man who did this to
you—and I'll kill him.
***
Eight people had been present when James made his promise to
Allison of a December dinner in Aberdeen. Even before leaving her bedside,
James reduced the list of those who could have tampered with the car to two:
Geoffrey and Tyler.
Tyler was the most likely. The onetime race-car driver was an expert
mechanic—and yesterday James had raised the possibility that he'd intentionally
supplied faulty materials for the Jade Palace. But James had never really
believed Tyler had sabotaged the hotel, and by the time he reached the street
outside the hospital, Tyler was off the list.
Geoffrey was the monster. Even the winds howled his name. And they
shrieked another truth. Geoffrey was a new enemy—and an old one.
And, the winds hissed, Gweneth had known all along.
"I don't like him, James," she'd confided during their
Christmastime visit to Hong Kong.
"Really? Why not? Has Eve said something?"
"No. But I don't think she's happy with him. I hope I'm dead
wrong, James, but.
But Gweneth hadn't been dead wrong about Geoffrey.
Dragon's Eyes
Saturday, December 11, 1993
The
barrel of the gun was pressed against Eve's temple, and the hammer
was fully cocked, and Geoffrey's finger was on the trigger. He held Eve with
his other arm, a crushing embrace that stretched her negligee across her
battered torso.
"Do you like these bruises, Tyler?" Geoffrey asked.
"From what I can tell, you didn't have enough
fun
with Eve. You
were gentle with her, weren't you? Too bad. She loves pain,
begs
for it.
Don't you, my princess?"
"Let her go, Geoffrey." Tyler's tone was quiet,
conciliatory, despite the fear he felt for Eve. He had to keep the madman calm.
And talking. The instant Geoffrey dropped his guard, Tyler would make his move
for the gun. "If you have a problem, it's with me, not with Eve."
"You mean
Evangeline."
Smiling, Geoffrey
clarified, "Actually, Tyler, my problem is with both of you. You'll be
pleased to know I have a solution. It's not all that I'd hoped, mind you, but
things got a bit rushed when Eve decided to leave on Monday despite the Jade
Palace fiasco. Frankly, I'd counted on that little disaster to give me more
time."
"More time for what, Geoffrey?" Tyler asked.
Geoffrey feigned surprise. "To
punish
her, of course.
It was really going to be quite amusing watching Eve suffer as an endless
series of tragedies befell her friends. Oh, well, one has to be flexible,
doesn't—" The doorbell sounded. Geoffrey appeared intrigued by the
interruption, but not alarmed. "Who could that be?"
The answer to Geoffrey's question was visible on the closed
circuit monitor.
"Why, it's James," Geoffrey observed, his wild eyes
gleaming with delight. "I imagine our little Allison has recalled a phone
conversation with a mystery man named Alex. James is more than welcome to join
our party, although his presence
will
pose a slight problem."
Geoffrey didn't elaborate on the potential problem.
He merely solved it.
In a fluid motion, he took the gun from Eve's head and fired.
The bullet struck Tyler in the chest. Tyler didn't fall. He
would
not
fall.
Moving toward Geoffrey, knowing he'd die and caring only for Eve's
safety, Tyler whispered, "Run, Eve.
Run."
She couldn't run. Geoffrey's arm still imprisoned her. Had she
been free, she'd have run to Tyler, not safety.
Geoffrey greeted Tyler's approach with an anticipatory smile. The
second bullet, fired at close range, would find Tyler's heart. But at the last
instant, Geoffrey remembered his plan to force Eve to pull the trigger for that
lethal shot—and the immense pleasure he'd have in watching.
He fired at Tyler's left leg, striking bone midthigh and
shattering it. Tyler tried to walk. But it was impossible. After a few
staggering steps, he fell to the floor.
Eve struggled to be free, to be with Tyler, and Geoffrey released
her. As Eve dropped to her knees beside the man she loved, Tyler reached to
caress her face. For several heartbeats their eyes held and they journeyed far
away... to their dream.
The moment ended, too quickly, as Eve felt the warmth of Tyler's
blood pooling on the marble floor beside her. Even before she began ripping strips
of silk from her negligee, to make a tourniquet for him, Tyler was removing his
jacket for her— to cloak her nakedness, to give her privacy, dignity, as his
own life was slipping away.
"This is as pathetic as
Romeo and Juliet,"
Geoffrey
scoffed. "Go ahead, Eve. Tourniquet his leg. But be quick about it. James
is waiting."
"Let James go, Geoffrey!"
"You just don't get it, do you, my princess? James has
undoubtedly figured everything out—and you haven't even begun to. James isn't
about to leave. Hurry up, Eve. Our guest is waiting."
Eve tied the silken tourniquet around Tyler's bloodied leg, kissed
him softly on the lips and returned to Geoffrey. She had no choice. The next
bullet would have been in Tyler's heart.
As soon as she was imprisoned again, the gun barrel wedged against
the bruise already forming on her temple, Geoffrey instructed her to press the
button to unbolt the castle's front door.
***
James didn't hear the gunshots. The fury of the winds, and of his
own thundering thoughts, drowned out all else. Even if he
had
heard the
shots, it wouldn't have deterred him. Nothing would.
When the castle door flew open, James entered without the
slightest hesitation—even though he realized he might be about to confront
two
mortal enemies. Tyler Vaughn's Lamborghini was parked outside, raising the
possibility that his instincts about Tyler, his belief in Tyler's integrity,
had been wrong.
It didn't matter if Tyler and Geoffrey were conspirators in crime.
James was fully prepared to kill them both.
As soon as James began his descent of the marble staircase, he saw
the truth. Only one mortal enemy awaited him in the great room below.
"James." Geoffrey's voice was friendly, untroubled by
the fact that a man lay dying at his feet and he himself was holding a cocked
gun to his wife's head. "What a pleasant surprise. Devilish night to be
out and about, isn't it?"
James's only answer was the deadly intent in his eyes. With
graceful yet measured power, he moved toward his enemy, stopping only when he
reached a spot that was exactly the right distance from Geoffrey. As he looked
at the murderous taipan, James made an assessment of the gun at Eve's
temple—and of himself. He could do this. In a single motion, and so swiftly
Geoffrey wouldn't know what was happening, he could kick the gun from
Geoffrey's hand and snap Geoffrey's neck.
He needed a few moments to ready himself to make the lethal move.
Every cell in his body must be prepared to become airborne. James had rehearsed
such flight a thousand times.
But did he have time to focus properly? Yes. Geoffrey wasn't in
any hurry to bring his deadly party to a close. He was enjoying himself—and
believed himself to be in complete control.
"Is there anything you'd like to ask me, James? Let's face
it, this is an opportune time. Wouldn't you like to know about Gweneth?"
"Oh, no," Eve whispered. "Oh, James."
"You're finally beginning to understand, aren't you,
Eve?" Geoffrey mocked. "There was no way I could permit Gweneth to
move to Hong Kong. And do you know why? Because of you, my love. You were happy
when Gweneth was here. Far
too
happy."
"Oh, James." Eve turned her head, and the gun barrel
sank deeper into her bruised temple. The sudden movement might have caused
Geoffrey to pull the trigger. But Eve didn't care. She needed to look at James.
"I'm so sorry."
James hesitated before speaking. He'd spend tomorrow, and the next
day—as long as it took—convincing Eve she wasn't to blame. And if there was no
tomorrow? She needed to hear it
now.
"It's not your fault, Eve. You couldn't possibly have
known... or imagined. It's
not
your fault."
Instantly impatient—and annoyed—with the exchange between Eve and
James, Geoffrey taunted, "You thought
you
were the target, didn't
you, James? How arrogant of you. But I'll tell you the truth. You were
partially right. You and Gweneth were both supposed to die in Wales. It was a
botched job, and I was furious when I learned of it, but it's really worked out
rather well." His expression became one of smug satisfaction. "I've
enjoyed immensely watching your grief.
Most
entertaining."
His smugness dissolved into a glower. "After a while,
however, you began to annoy me. As long as I'd spared your life, the least you
could have done was build the Jade Palace for me. But it took you
forever
to
get around to it, didn't it? Well," he continued dismissively, "I'm
willing to let bygones be bygones. Especially now that the hotel's going to be
mine. I'd been concerned it might be awkward for me to buy it, a bit too
obvious, but it will make perfect sense to everyone in Hong Kong that I'd want
to dedicate such a glorious shrine to the memory of my cherished princess and
our dear friend James."
Geoffrey's face became solemn, as if preparing the eulogy he'd
deliver at the grand opening of his Jade Palace. Then, with a beaming smile of
sheer madness, he said, "I'm afraid we're going to have a bloodbath, right
here. It wasn't the scene I'd planned, but it will work out nicely."
Geoffrey became a director, explaining to each of his assembled
actors their motivations for their roles in his macabre scenario. "You'll
have come here tonight, James, in pursuit of Tyler. You'll have discovered that
indeed he
was
cheating you. There'll be a fight. Eve, our little
heroine, will bravely try to intercede." He sighed dramatically. "Alas,
her efforts will be to no avail. She'll be caught in the crossfire, as the two
of you fight to the death. Upon my return home, I'll find three dead bodies.
Splendid,
don't you think?"
It was time, James knew. Geoffrey's crazed eyes seemed eager to
see the carnage he'd gleefully described.
James was ready to kill.
In eight seconds, he decided, Geoffrey would be dead.
Eight—for luck.
The silent countdown would begin as soon as James finished asking
a final question.
"Why did you try to kill Allison?"
Eight.
Geoffrey shrugged. "Why not?"
Seven.
"She was a bloody nuisance. She could have left Hong Kong
without a scratch, but
no,
the brave little pilot had to stay."
Six.
"You were responsible for the destruction of her photographs,
weren't you, Geoffrey?"
Five.
Geoffrey grinned wickedly. "Of course I was."
Four.
"Speaking of nuisances, I'm sorry you'll all miss the plans I
have for Juliana Kwan."
Three.
"I enjoy having people left behind, you see," Geoffrey
explained. "The suffering, you know, the
mourning."
Two.
"Oh well, perhaps Juliana's half-breed daughter's eyes will
fill with tears."
James's sleekly muscled body was about to become a lethal weapon.
But before he counted off the final second, there was an
extraordinary sound. Too mammoth to be human, and although coincident with the
winds' savage howl, it was distinct from the noise made by the raging typhoon.
It was something else—it sounded like a roar—and it came from
within the castle.
The roar sounded again, and this time the castle shuddered and
shook. Before their eyes, the trembling floor opened—a crack so wide that
Geoffrey was out of danger, for the moment, from James's deadly leap.
But there was new danger for Geoffrey. The floor had opened just
beneath his feet, leaving him teetering on the very edge of the gaping hole.
The edges were sharp, jagged, like massive teeth. In order to maintain his
balance, he released Eve. The maneuver worked. His balance was restored.
When the roar sounded for its third and final time, the great jaws
of white marble began to close. They carried Geoffrey with them, pitching him
into the abyss... and swallowing him whole.
Then there was silence.
Even the winds were hushed.
For a very long time none of them spoke. Indeed, it was something
about which none of them would ever speak. The world would believe the colossal
winds had shaken the castle to its very foundation, as indeed they had.
But those who'd been there knew the truth.
The blinded dragon had exacted its revenge.