The Tangled Web: an international web of intrigue, murder and romance (20 page)

“Not a word about the seaplane,” Lauren frowned. “That’s why I believe they’re holding on to something they don’t want made public, at least not at this time.” “Peter,” she said carefully, “I understand your position, but I’m asking you to support me on this one. I know I can crack this. I just need to find out who the big fish are and cast my net.”

“This is a newspaper, Lauren, not the Criminal Investigation Department,” Peter reminded her crushing out his cigarette. “No need for my top journalist to put her life on the line, as tempting as nailing a story this big may be.”

The phone was ringing when Lauren got back to her desk. Hurriedly, she picked it up.

“Hello, Lauren, it’s Logan. I’m glad I caught you.”

Lauren’s heart stopped. Before she could catch her breath, he went on to say, “I called to let you know I read that article you did on me.”

Lauren’s first thought was to tell him to go to hell, but she could not give the slightest hint that she knew anything of what was taking place. With great restraint, she said, “I’m glad you had a chance to read it. I hope it did you justice.”

Oblivious to the chill in her voice, he replied, “It certainly did, I’m flattered.”

There was an awkward pause. What followed would have forced Lauren to sit if she wasn’t already firmly planted in her chair.

“I was wondering,” Logan ventured tentatively, “I was wondering how you would feel about coming and spending a few days in New York. I would come back to see you, but I’m strapped for time right now.”

“Come to New York for a few days?” she sputtered in disbelief. Come to New York, just like that? In addition to being a deceitful jerk, he expects me to run off to New York at his beck and call? What does he take me for? He didn’t even have the courtesy to call and say goodbye before he left. But, reason argued, why should he have called? A few hours of scintillating conversation does not necessarily add up to friendship. But here he was calling, calling to invite her to New York at that. It could be for no other reason than he was genuinely interested in her. She had not misread the look in his eyes that morning at Vale Verde after all. Or maybe he mistook her for some trollop who would open her legs for him at the snap of his fingers! Where did he get off, she fumed as outrage at his presumptuousness won the inward battle.

“Thank you for the invitation, but I have no time to come to New York. I just got back from London,” she said icily.

Too late, Lauren realized she had made a fatal slip, but regret did not subdue her anger.

Still consumed by outrage, she failed to notice Logan had gone quiet and when she finally did notice, she mistook his silence as a natural response to her cool reception to his invitation. Thousands of miles from him, she could not see the look on his face, could not read the rapid processing of his thoughts as he instantly put two and two together. What she had no way of knowing was he had immediately connected her to Margaret by way of something as obscure as their strong resemblance to each other. Neither could she have guessed her revelation had triggered a recent memory of his, the memory of a clandestine meeting at the Ministry of Finance and Margaret Thomas’ clumsy effort to protect the identity of the London courier. He had not bought the minister’s line about not remembering the person’s name, but he had chosen not to pursue the matter. It was a minor and relatively unimportant detail at the time. But it had suddenly ceased to be a minor and unimportant detail.

Logan’s analytical mind shifted into high gear. Where did he go with this now he had good reason to believe Lauren was the courier? Did he approach Margaret Thomas about the matter? But there was no point at this stage. The plan would be implemented in a matter of less than two weeks. Besides any hint Lauren had leaked information would put her in bad standing. But, he reasoned, was it fair to consider that a leak? Lauren couldn’t possibly know of his involvement in the plan. Therefore she would have no reason to think mention of her trip would be of any particular significance to him. The truth was Lauren had not told him the reason for her London trip. But he was now curious to know when she was there.

“I don’t mean to pry, but when were you in London?”

“Not too long ago,” she answered breathing an inner sigh of relief. He obviously didn’t know it was she who had delivered the package. He wouldn’t have asked if he knew. But she had been careless. She had divulged too much in the little she had said. She had to be more careful.

Logan was tempted to try and find out more, but he knew backing out of the weekend as fast as possible took precedence over anything else. Lauren had made that easy enough by declining his invitation.

“Well, I’m sorry you’re too busy to make it to New York,” he said, hoping he sounded sincere.

There was nothing from the other end of the line.

“Are you still there?” he asked thinking they may have been disconnected.

“I’m sorry, yes I am. I’m just thinking,” she replied.

If he could have read her mind he would have known she was thinking what a tangled web she had found herself caught in. Here was a man who ignited something within her that had never been lit before. Here she was putting him off because of pride. And incongruously, here she was fearful he might discover it was she who had gone to London on a dubious mission for Margaret, when in essence it had been on his account as well. They were in it together, whatever it was. But what had the thing they were involved in got to do with her when all was said and done? She had her life to live after all. A door had opened with his call and it might never open again – not for New York, dinner, lunch, or anything else. Lauren came to a decision.

“When did you have in mind?” she asked.

“Have what in mind?” Logan asked perplexed by her question.

“When were you thinking of me coming to New York?”

Logan was completely thrown off guard. Not quite knowing how to handle her sudden and unexpected change of heart, he hedged.

“I’ll understand if you can’t tear yourself away from work. I know you’re busy. Are you sure you can make it?”

“I can probably get away this weekend.”

“You can?” he grimaced.

“But there’s something we need to be clear about.”

“What’s that?” he asked absently as he desperately tried to find a way out of the corner he found himself backed into.

What on earth would he do with her for an entire weekend? He couldn’t be mad enough to think of having any kind of relationship with her after what he’d just learned. She was much too close to home. And he thought too much of her to simply take her to bed and say goodbye. His feelings, though he wasn’t quite sure what they were, ran a tad deeper than a casual tryst. He could have that with anyone at any time.

Her voice cut through his quandary. “Casual trysts are not my thing,” she announced.

Logan was speechless. Then he laughed despite himself.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he replied as his laughter subsided. “I have a comfortable guest room or two.”

There was no response.

“Or I could put you up in a hotel if you find such close proximity uncomfortable,” he suggested, certain her choice would be the hotel.

“That sounds perfect.”

“Which is perfect?” he asked uncertainly.

“Your guest room. I thought that was a given.”

Logan held his forehead in bewilderment. He had the distinct impression she didn’t want to be staying with him. Now their weekend appeared to be a fait accompli regardless of his efforts to back out of it. They said the woman was the boss. He was beginning to understand why. There was no point trying to out-maneuver a woman. It required a complete absence of logic to do that.

“Shall I make your reservations now then? Friday to Sunday sound good to you?” he asked with reluctant acceptance that his was a lost cause.

“That’s perfect,” Lauren said happily.

Logan toyed with a brass paperweight Bella had given him the Christmas before. He turned it this way and that absentmindedly. For the first time he noticed the inscription.
You’re the boss.

THIRTY

He met her at JFK on that Friday afternoon feeling like a man about to face a firing squad. As she walked towards him wheeling nothing but a carry-on, he took her in: the glow of her brown skin, the mane of dark hair, the surprise of jeans. He had never seen her in jeans. He thought they looked rather good on her.

“Well, here I am,” she smiled shyly as she came up to him.

He made as if to give her a peck on the cheek and then remembering, caught himself.

“So you made it,” he said hesitantly. “Had a good trip?”

“Yes, it was good, thank you,” she replied searching his face.

“Good, good,” he muttered relieving her of her carry-on.

“Is this all your luggage?”

“Yes… Yes, I usually travel light.”

He hesitated awkwardly. “Well, the car’s waiting outside.”

It was fall Lauren suddenly remembered as she spotted the first leafless tree on the drive into Manhattan. With a flawless sky turning the afternoon golden, the weather stood out in sharp contrast to the dreary day she had spent in London. She had not been able to get that trip out of her mind during her flight to New York. She prayed Logan wouldn’t bring it up, though she suspected he had forgotten about it. He had made no further mention of it when they had last spoken. But that was not the only thing weighing heavily on Lauren’s mind while she gazed out the car window as the car drove through Queens. The conversation she had overheard at Margaret’s house was rearing its ugly head again.

He called from New York today then?

I agree it’s becoming too dangerous.

Does he happen to know about that suspicion surrounding his brother-in-law’s shipping company?

Lauren glanced at Logan furtively. She could not imagine that whatever he and Margaret were involved in was not above board. She had every faith in her aunt’s good character. Nevertheless, it took every bit of control she had to refrain from asking questions. What were they involved in? What necessitated such secrecy? What would make them take the kind of risk they took having someone deliver that check? Now she was actually in New York with Logan, it dawned on her that being in close proximity to him for any length of time would be a nightmare. She did not know how much longer she could restrain herself from talking about it.

The car was making its way onto the Grand Central Parkway when Logan broke their uncomfortable silence. “That’s the old World’s Fair site over there,” he pointed.

“What year was that World’s Fair, 1965?” Lauren asked following his gaze.

Logan gave her an impressed look. “You’re right. 1964 to 1965. You’re a bit young to remember that. How did you pull those dates off the top of your head?”

“How about if I tell you fifty-one million people attended that World’s Fair?” Lauren grinned impishly.

“Good Lord. You’re a walking encyclopedia. Okay, let’s see if you can answer this one. Who was the first person inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?”

Lauren thought for a minute. “Mmmm, there was more than one artist if I recall. Let me see. Elvis Presley, James Brown, Ray Charles, Buddy Holly, Jerry Lee Lewis…”

“Okay, okay, you win,” Logan laughed. “You’re something else.”

They were crossing the Triborough Bridge, and the skyline of Manhattan was now coming into view, when Lauren remarked, “The weather’s nice.”

“The weather’s been perfect. We should have a beautiful weekend,” Logan smiled.

Lauren gave him a quizzical look, but did not ask him to clarify whether his remark pertained to them personally, or simply the weather. Her stomach started to flutter and she turned and looked out her window again. Something was happening and it was happening too fast. She had vowed not to fall into his arms at the drop of a hat, but she had been in New York not half an hour and her resolve was already beginning to weaken. Sitting there in the car so near him, she found herself aching for him to reach out and hold her hand; fighting the impulse to take his. Though they did not touch, she could feel his presence as strongly as if their bodies were one. She wondered what he was thinking as he lapsed back into silence and looked straight ahead as if she wasn’t there.

Logan was going out of his mind by the time they turned onto East River Drive and made their way to midtown. He was not one for small talk, but the prolonged lack of conversation was not helping matters as he fought his growing urge to grab Lauren and kiss her, make love to her right then and there on the backseat. In an effort to distract himself from his almost uncontrollable desire for her, he clumsily grasped at the first thing that came to mind, “How’s the McGuire investigation going?”

Lauren’s face fell. “Why did you ask?”

He was saved not a minute too soon. The car was pulling up in front of a building with a porte-cochère, a uniformed doorman was coming over to them with recognition in his eyes, the driver was hopping out and opening their doors for them. “Here we are at last,” Logan exhaled with relief as he stumbled out of the car.

Logan’s apartment at the San Remo was not what Lauren would have expected. She had thought to find the same style of old mahogany furniture that furnished his cottage in the mountains. Her eyes swept with interest around the foyer, falling on a sleek console table, its only companion in the otherwise sparse room, a painting in the Cubic style hanging above it. Before she had a chance to examine the signature, they had entered the living room, which she noticed was also minimalist in the extreme. The few items of ultra modern furniture seemed to float in an expanse of white broken only by steel grey carpeting and a seating area floored in blond wood. On the far wall hung an enviable collection of paintings by a renowned island artist. Lauren turned to her right where a stretch of windows met her gaze. She walked over to them and looked down at Central Park shadowed by early evening.