Trading Secrets (25 page)

“There was no one watching?”

“A guard in the corridor outside the room. I left him unconscious and gagged in Coyne’s bathtub.”

“And Mr. Coyne. What sort of condition is he in?”

“Alive,” Matt said dryly. “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to get some use out of him.”

“I think he’ll make a nice propaganda exhibition,” Valdez said.

Matt shrugged. “Use him however you wish. He’s all yours. He wasn’t working for the U.S. government, though.”

“No?”

Matt shook his head firmly. “He was working independently. He had a deal with Estes. They were going to lure you into a suicidal assault on the capital. Your last-minute weapons would have malfunctioned at a very inappropriate time and Estes and his men would have been waiting for you.”

“The scenario has a familiar ring, Matt.”

“I know. Sounds like something that happened to me two years ago.” Matt gazed broodingly up at the clear night sky. “The similarity struck me, also. So I asked Coyne a few more questions.”

“And found out he was the one who set you up that night in the jungle?”

Matt nodded silently.

“Are you going to do anything about it? Do you want Coyne when I’ve finished with him so that you can persuade him to tell the Army what happened?”

Matt thought about Sabrina’s washing machine, the beer in her refrigerator, the satisfaction of having her beside him in bed. Then he thought about Brad’s youthful awkwardness and the tenuous link he was just beginning to establish with his son.

“No,” Matt said quietly. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” He was silent for a moment longer, thinking about what he’d just said, and then he smiled wryly at Ramon Valdez. “I’m taking a little souvenir of Buena Ventura home with me. Want to see it?” He reached down and opened Coyne’s briefcase.

Valdez leaned forward and stared wide-eyed inside for a few seconds. “Nice pen,” he noted finally.

***

“Sabrina, I’m going to go see Cindy.” The screen door slammed behind Brad as he loped through it and across the patio.

“Dinner in half an hour, Brad.” Sabrina watched him go and decided he really wasn’t suffering any ill effects from last night’s fracas. And he’d certainly established himself in Cindy’s eyes as a man who could take care of himself. Brad was playing his brush with danger to the hilt. The real thing, Sabrina thought, and he’d come through it unscathed.

Hardly the way to teach a boy that violent skills were unnecessary and immature in the modern world.

The ballet had definitely come out a distant second in terms of interest. Brad couldn’t even remember the name of the production. Of course, to be strictly fair, Alex hadn’t talked too much about the performance, either.

Sabrina opened the refrigerator and peered skeptically inside. The head of broccoli she’d brought home from the store stared back. She reached inside and removed it, resisting the urge to see if there was anything interesting in a box in the cupboard. You weren’t supposed to feed growing boys food from boxes or the freezer. They needed fresh, wholesome foods.

It had been easier when Matt was here, Sabrina told herself for the hundredth time. This business of working all day and then returning home to wash Brad’s clothes and fix his dinner and worry if he was getting too friendly with Cindy could be trying. Not to mention sending the kid off to see the ballet and having him return scuffed and battered!

Somehow Matt had kept things organized while he was here. She wondered if he had found a decent laundry for his shirts down there on that island. It was disturbing knowing she couldn’t even reach him by telephone. Sabrina decided she didn’t approve of Rafferty Coyne’s notions of secrecy. But, then, she didn’t approve of anything about Coyne. She could only hope that once this mission was over Matt would be satisfied with the profit and settle down in Dallas.

That last was a big unknown, however, and Sabrina forced herself to acknowledge it as she sliced and rinsed the broccoli. There was no way of knowing if this one trip for Coyne was really going to be enough to work out all the two-year-old bitterness and resentment that had been eating at Matt. Even if he did return with enough money to open the bookstore he claimed he wanted, who was to say that would satisfy him?

When it came right down to it, she had no way of knowing if Matt really wanted a home. He had his duty toward his son and he wanted Sabrina, at least on some levels. But would those two factors be enough to hold him in Dallas?

It was odd to even be thinking in terms of a future with one particular man. Odd and vaguely threatening. The home she was thinking of creating with Matt wasn’t anything like the one she had envisioned on the rare occasions in the past when the subject had crossed her mind. And this past year the subject had just about stopped crossing her mind altogether.

She had been happy with her new life in Dallas. She had a reasonably active social life, a business that required hard work, a beautiful apartment, and most of all a sense of being in control of her world. Everything had been falling into place quite smoothly this past year, the culmination of thirty years of growing into full, independent adulthood. She liked herself and she liked her life.

It had occurred to Sabrina years previously that it was probably not necessary to have a man share that life on a full-time basis. Years of cleaning up after Nolan, Jeffrey, and her father had undoubtedly been responsible for putting the radical notion in her head. And she was realistic enough about her own instincts and drives to know that she didn’t need children, either. If she had been asked to describe what she would want in a male if she were to take such a permanent step as marriage, though, she could have drawn up a list of characteristics.

Those characteristics would have included such traits as intelligence, gentleness, an easygoing nature, interests that matched her own, an ability to view the relationship from an equal and respectful standpoint. Most of all, her ideal mate would not exhibit that long list of masculine attributes she had spent thirty years trying to duck. He would not be arrogant, judgmental, or authoritarian. Nor would he be oriented toward violence. And he would not be divorced.

Divorced men added a whole set of complications to an already complex situation. Especially divorced men with children.

Any way you sliced it, Matt August was not an ideal mate. Sabrina stopped cutting up broccoli and eyed the length of the knife she was using. Then she went back to work, hoping very hard that Matt was not using his knife while he was down there on that damn island.

The knock on the door came just as she was piling the broccoli into a steamer and considering toasted cheese sandwiches as an accompaniment. Meal planning for a kid was apparently a learned skill, Sabrina was telling herself. She hadn’t yet mastered the art. With her luck Brad wouldn’t even like broccoli-and-cheese sandwiches. Oh, well, she was hungry enough to eat his share.

“Just a minute,” she called, wiping her hands on a towel that was draped around the refrigerator handle. She walked into the living room and automatically glanced through the tiny viewing port in the door.

“Oh, hell,” she muttered, and opened the door to the two men who had tried to harass her in the supermarket parking lot. “This does it,” she announced before either of them could say a word. “This really cracks the egg. I have been extremely patient and forbearing about this whole thing, but this is the end. I have a letter of apology from your outfit, you know. A letter that says very clearly that you folks have been in the wrong and that I am an honest taxpayer, after all. It’s not my fault your superiors are so disorganized they don’t know what’s going on. Go back and tell your boss to check the computer. Presumably some record of it will be on file.” Sabrina made to close the door.

One large foot clad in a plain brown dress shoe slid over the threshold, forestalling her effort. Sabrina stared furiously down at the shoe and then found a leather case shoved under her nose. She had seen that particular ID card once before.

“Read it, Miss Chase. We are not from the IRS,” Griffin said coolly.

Sabrina studied the unfamiliar name of the agency. “Okay,” she said quietly, “you’re not from the IRS. But I don’t recognize this department.”

“Mr. Shadwell and myself work for Rafferty Coyne. My name is Griffin. We’re here about Matt August.”

Sabrina stopped breathing for a few seconds. “Matt’s not here.”

“We’re aware of that, Miss Chase. August has been badly hurt. We’ve come to collect his son and take him to his father. This is an emergency, Miss Chase.”

The shock seemed to be numbing her, Sabrina realized. She wasn’t screaming or weeping or fainting. She was simply staring at the two men who had come to deliver the message she had allowed herself to anticipate only in the middle of the night when she had awakened alone in bed.

The deep fear she had forced herself to repress twenty-three of the twenty-four hours a day was suddenly hitting her full in the midsection and all she could do was stare at the makeup around Shadwell’s eye.

It reminded her of the makeup Alex had worn to disguise his injured eye at work.

“Brad isn’t here just now. He’s visiting a friend. Please tell me exactly what happened.”

“We can’t do that, Miss Chase. It’s a matter of national security.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” she retorted with an unnatural calm. She didn’t step back from the doorway. “I’m not concerned with your security measures. Tell me exactly what’s happened to Matt. Where is he?”

“In a hospital in Puerto Rico. He’ll be transferred to the States as soon as it’s safe to move him. He’s been very badly hurt, Miss Chase,” Shadwell said gently. “Coyne wants us to bring the boy to him at once.”

“What about his other relatives?” she whispered.

“They’re being notified.”

“I see.” Her mind spinning, Sabrina looked from Shadwell’s makeup to the plain brown shoes and belt that could have come straight from J. C. Penney’s. “Did Matt ask for me?” she asked hesitantly.

“August hasn’t regained consciousness, Miss Chase. He hasn’t actually asked for anyone. Rafferty Coyne is the one who gave orders that the boy should be brought to his side.” As Griffin spoke he replaced the leather ID folder inside his jacket. The movement was vaguely awkward; done with the left hand. Sabrina had the impression he was normally right-handed. But Griffin’s right hand stayed motionless by his side.

“Decent of Mr. Coyne,” Sabrina said coolly. “I suppose he’s having Matt’s parents flown down to Puerto Rico, too?”

Griffin glanced at Shadwell, who nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, you’d better come inside and sit down. I’ll have to find Brad.”

“Thank you, Miss Chase.”

“It’s awfully hot,” she said. “I’ll get you a beer while you wait. It’s going to take me a few minutes to dig up Brad. He’s with a friend—a girl. You know how that goes.” She opened the door and waved them to the persimmon sofa. “This is such a shock,” she went on, feeling as dazed as she sounded.

“We understand.” Griffin sat down and after a moment Shadwell joined him.

It seemed to Sabrina that both men moved with a strange tension, as if they were physically uncomfortable. Her heart pounding, she went into the kitchen and pulled two beers out of the refrigerator. They were part of a six-pack Matt had bought just before he’d left.

Oh, God, Matt. What have they done to you? I will kill Rafferty Coyne if he’s gotten you badly hurt. I swear, I’ll kill him.

The degree of her own violence shocked her. Taking several deep, therapeutic breaths, a cold beer in each hand, Sabrina stood alone in the kitchen and tried to think. Instinctively she knew she mustn’t panic. She had to think things through logically. So much was at stake.

First things first. As Matt said, you needed to establish priorities. But the first thought that came into her head as she tried to clear away her panic was that she couldn’t in a million years trust Rafferty Coyne.

It followed that she couldn’t trust two men who claimed to work for him, either.

On the other hand Shadwell and Griffin carried very impressive identification. That embossed eagle looked quite genuine. She wished she were more familiar with her government agencies. But bureaucracies bred agencies as prolifically as swamps did mosquitoes. To date her main concern had been chiefly with the IRS.

Slowly she walked back out into the living room. Shadwell and Griffin certainly looked like government agents, she decided. Sober, grim, very important-appearing. Blue polyester suits, plain brown shoes and belts. And lots of ID. She wondered if they were wearing shoulder holsters.

“Here,” she said, quickly extending the can of beer toward Griffin.

Automatically he started to lift his right hand to take the can and then winced. He took it with his left hand.

“Have you hurt yourself?” Sabrina asked curiously. “A touch of bursitis. The humidity down here in Texas sets it off.”

“Oh.” Sabrina made to turn away and then stopped, brow furrowing. “What was it you wanted to see me about the other day in the supermarket parking lot? I mean, Matt hadn’t even left the country at that point.” She hoped her tone had struck a naive, trusting note.

“We were just doing a routine security check for Coyne. When you didn’t cooperate, Coyne said to forget it. He was fairly certain Matt wouldn’t be dating a security risk.” Shadwell tried a small smile.

Sabrina didn’t return it. “I’d like to go to Puerto Rico with Brad.”

Griffin hesitated. “No one but immediate family members are allowed at this point, Miss Chase and, to tell you the truth, I think it would be uncomfortable for you, anyway.” Griffin looked somewhat
embarassed
.

“Why?”

“Because after we collect Brad we’re to go on to Houston to pick up Virginia Martin.” He gave Sabrina an apologetic smile.

“Virginia Martin?”

“The boy’s mother. Coyne said to bring her along also. Brad will need her. It’s going to be difficult for him having to see his father lying unconscious in a hospital bed. A boy needs his mother at a time like that, don’t you think?”

“Is Mrs. Martin expecting you?” Sabrina asked tentatively.