I was still chuckling as we stepped out of Lord Creighton’s car and entered the hotel.
“‘Don’t blow it,’ Mother? Really? If Gregor heard you, he’d blame Mark for being a bad influence.”
“Hardly, Mark. Remember, I have three older brothers who neglected to guard their tongues when they were unaware of my presence. Having said that, sometimes a little strong wording is what’s required to get through to a man.”
“This is why Lord Creighton would never be the right man for you. You’re a strong woman, and with the best will in the world, he seems to prefer a woman he can coddle.”
“He probably got that from his father. Lord John tended to be overprotective, especially after what the family went through during the First World War.”
“Oh?”
“German troops forced them from their farm in West Africa. They lost their first child, a little girl, at that time, due to snakebite.”
“That’s very sad.”
“It is.”
“How did you learn of this, Mother?”
“Your grandmother and Lady Portia were prolific correspondents. After Lady Portia passed away, Jack gave me Mother’s letters to her. When we return home, I’ll let you read them, as well as the letters Lady Portia wrote to her. They were amazing women who lived through amazing times.” Abruptly she changed the subject. “Am I safe in assuming that was Mark on the phone?”
“Yes. A friend of a friend of his is missing.”
She made a satisfied sound. “I always knew he was a very loyal man.”
“Yes.” I looked around. “It’s still rather early. Would you mind stopping in the bar for a drink?”
“No, I’d enjoy that.”
We walked into Claridge’s Bar, which was fairly empty at that time, and I ordered two Avelã Manhattans—bourbon and vermouth chilled with chocolate bitters and charged with Port and hazelnut soda.
“Would you care for something to nibble on, Mother? The cheese selection, perhaps?”
“That sounds good, sweetheart.”
“Will you have it sent to our table?” I asked the bartender.
“Love to.” He grinned and gestured to a waitress, who went to take care of it.
“Where would you prefer to sit, Mother?”
She made her way to a table near the fireplace, and once there, I helped her remove her coat. As she made herself comfortable, I draped her coat over a chair, placed my overcoat next to it, and then sat down.
“Now, what is it?”
“What do you know of the Philadelphia Duchesnes, Mother?” I asked.
She tipped her head and observed me with interest. “They are an old Main Line family, although not as old as some.”
“So the family hasn’t been here as long as the Sebrings.”
“No. Justin Duchesne didn’t arrive in Philadelphia until some years after the end of the Revolution. Rumor had it his family sent him to the New World because of his rakehell ways, but of course Eleanor denies that strenuously, claiming those are nothing but vicious lies. That’s one of the reasons Eleanor tends to avoid me when she can.”
“Because you know they aren’t lies?”
“Precisely,” she murmured. She took a sip of her Manhattan, then put down her glass and blotted her lips. “She’ll do everything in her power to protect the family’s name. However, what she’s unaware of is that there are a number of letters in the library at Shadow Brook. Amanda Sebring corresponded with her daughter, Emeline, who’d moved to Philadelphia after she married. According to Emeline’s letters, Justin Duchesne ran off with the woman who became his wife while she was still married to another man.”
“Yes, that would be considered a scandal.” In those days, things like that just weren’t done. “I’d like to read those letters also, if you have no objection.”
“None in the least, sweetheart.”
The waitress arrived and placed the platter with the cheese selections on our table.
“Would you see this is billed to our suite?” I handed her my keycard, and she went to deal with it. I offered Mother a fig.
“What do the Duchesnes have to do with Mark’s friend?”
“Val Duchesne is the one who’s missing. Mark suspects he’s been kidnapped.”
She sighed and shook her head. “What can I do to help?”
I reached across the small table and squeezed her hand. How many would offer their aid so freely? “Mark is dealing with it. He’ll speak to Uncle Bryan when he gets out to LA.”
“How did your uncles become involved?”
“Mother, I only mentioned Bryan.”
“Yes, but if he’s involved, Tony will be as well.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “You’re right. Uncle Tony refused to let Bryan go to the set alone.”
“I still don’t understand their involvement.”
“Val goes by the stage name of Spike, and from what I understand, the last time he was seen was on the set of CIA.”
“Ah, that explains it. Bryan would not appreciate someone with whom he works being harmed in any way.”
“Did you ever meet Valentine?”
“No, although I remember his maternal grandfather spoke of him quite fondly.”
The waitress returned with my keycard and a slip to sign. I did so and handed it back to her, along with a tip. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, sir!”
“You’re welcome.” She left to take care of a newly arrived customer, and I turned back to Mother. “There’s more to the story.”
Mother raised an eyebrow. “There usually is.”
“Val is gay.”
“What did Eleanor and her miserable excuse for a husband do to that poor boy?”
“According to Mark, first they tried prayer and then aversion therapy. Neither worked. Val ran away to DC and...” There was no easy way to put this. “He wound up on the streets, selling himself.”
“How badly was he damaged?” Mother rarely permitted her emotions to show, and just then she was the epitome of the Ice Queen.
“Not badly, again according to Mark. A friend of his took Val in a couple of years ago, and since that time, they’ve become a couple.” I met her eyes, aware of what she was going to say. “The friend’s name is Paul, but that’s all I know at this point. I’ll look into it when we get home.”
She picked up a cracker, spread some cheese on it, and handed it to me. “Your father and I knew Valentine’s grandfather—we met when he was campaigning for JFK in 1959—and he was a friend of your uncle’s as well.”
“So, a friend of the family?”
“Yes. He passed away about seven years ago.” She helped herself to another fig.
“I’m sorry. How would he have reacted to Val being gay?”
“I have no doubt Arthur Morens would have been furious at what his daughter and her husband did to his youngest grandson. You’ll keep me informed as to what happens to Valentine?”
“Of course.”
“Splendid. Now, what shall we do tomorrow?”
There was nothing more I could do at this time—Mother knew that as well as I did—but I had every confidence in how Mark would handle things. I finished the cracker Mother had given me and sipped my Manhattan while we discussed our options.
It was after midnight when we entered our suite. I hung up our coats and said good night just as Mother’s cell phone rang.
Thinking it was Gregor calling to chat, I retired to my bedroom to give her some privacy.
I had placed my dinner jacket on the suit rack, removed my bow tie and cummerbund, and was working on my shirt studs when Mother tapped on my door.
I opened the door and asked, “Is everything all right?” And then I knew it had to be: her face was light with amusement.
“That was Jack. I wonder if he’s bitten off more than he can chew.” She saw my confusion. “Ayesha has said yes and no.” That didn’t clear up my confusion, and Mother chuckled. “Yes, she’ll marry him, but no, not at the Register Office and not within five days. So there’s no need for me to remain here in London.”
“Ah. Might I assume that was also Ayesha’s decision?”
“Jack didn’t say, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Well, we can decide what we’ll do during our ride tomorrow.” We had a busy day planned.
“Yes, we will.” Mother rested her palm against my cheek. “Good night, sweetheart.”
“Good night, Mother.”
And we retired for the night.
The first of the following day’s activities was done, and Mother and I had just returned from an early morning ride, having come to the decision we would cut our stay short. She had been able to tell I was anxious to return home.
We planned to change, have an early lunch, and then visit the Tower of London to view the Crown Jewels. Afterward, I would call the airline to reschedule our flight.
I had stripped down to my shorts when my cell phone played “Such a Night.” I hadn’t expected to hear from Mark this soon. It was the early morning hours in Los Angeles, and my stomach twisted, my knees nearly gave out from under me, and my hands shook. I sank down on the bed and answered immediately. “Mark.”
“Hey, babe. Do you have time to talk?” He sounded relaxed, and I felt the tension start to leave my body.
“For you? Always.” I drew in a breath. “First tell me you’re all right.”
“I’m fine.”
I brought myself under control. It wouldn’t do to let him know I’d nearly fallen apart from worry. “In that case, proceed.”
“Okay, so here’s what happened…”
I sat back and listened, allowing myself to enjoy his disgruntlement—although I shouldn’t have—as he revealed how my uncles had had the situation wrapped up by the time he arrived on the scene.
An acquaintance of the Duchesne family had kidnapped Val. Giles Stapleton had said his intention was to get Val out of the situation he was in: living with an older man, but Val hadn’t wanted to leave. He was happy with Paul, and Stapleton had resorted to drugging the younger man.
“The thing is, your uncle thinks this Stapleton bozo might have ulterior motives for getting his hands on Spike,” Mark said.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Stapleton is engaged to Spike’s sister, but while Spike’s parents may have disowned him, his grandfather never did, so he’s still in line to inherit a nice chunk of change.”
I was silent for a moment. “So you’re saying Stapleton’s motives weren’t as altruistic as he claimed.”
“Hell, no. If anything happened to Spike, his share would go to his sister.”
And through his sister to Stapleton.
“Is Stapleton still alive?”
“Yeah. I wanted to bang him up a bit, but your uncles had a better idea. They have enough evidence to send him up the river, and with his pretty face, he’s gonna be really popular.”
“I’m glad to hear that, if only because Val is your friend.”
“Yeah, and that’s the thing: I’ll be out here a few more days at least until we know for sure how Spike is.”
“Oh.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m glad you were able to rescue Val.”
“Me? I didn’t do a fucking thing. It was your uncles who got to him. And Cisco.”
“Well, you set things in motion.”
He mumbled, “Bullshit,” then said, “Something’s still bothering you.” He knew me so well.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m really pleased that your friend has been found safe. It’s just.... I was rather hoping I’d see you tomorrow night.” Which was exceptionally foolish of me.
“But you’re in London.”
“Mother and I are cutting our trip short.”
“How come?”
“There’s no reason for us to stay. Jack Abberley took the news very well. As a matter of fact he wasn’t as upset as Mother thought he’d be. Not that she wanted him to be upset, but for the past ten or twelve years he’d vowed he loved her.”
“Want me to kill him?”
“No, Mark, but thank you for the offer.” I couldn’t keep the amusement from my voice.
“Well, just let Portia know I’m available if she wants him erased.”
“I’ll be sure to pass on your message.”
“So who’s Abberley in love with?”
“What makes you think he’s in love with someone else?”
“Quinn, there has to be someone else. Jesus, if I didn’t have you, I’d be in love with Portia!”
“Well, I’m glad you have me.”
“Yeah, so am I. So the woman he’s in love with? Or is it a man?”
“No, she’s a very lovely young Iranian woman, and she’s his housekeeper. She has been for the past seven years.”
“How young is young?”
“She’s about twenty-five, I believe. And Abberley is at least three times her age.”
“Well, your uncle married a woman young enough to be his granddaughter. Either the marriage will last, or it won’t. So what’s got you bent out of shape?”
“I’m not—” Well, yes, truthfully, I was. “I’ll be home in Alexandria, but you’ll be in Los Angeles.” When had Mark become such a necessity in my life?
“That’s no big deal.” He continued before I had a chance to wonder if I should feel hurt. “You’ve got the time off, don’t you? Fly on out to LA. We can be Spike’s bodyguards, and afterward I’ll take you to Disneyland and hold your hand in the Haunted Mansion.”
“Would you really?”
“You bet your ass.”
“You’re too kind.”
“Hey, gotta keep my guy safe, don’t I?”
“Thank you, Mark.”
“Okay, then. Call me as soon as—” He interrupted himself. “Quinn, I’ve got another call. Can you hold on?”
“Certainly.”
“Thanks, babe. I’ll be right back.”
I took the phone into the bathroom, set it to speaker, then placed it on the vanity, washed my hands and face, brushed my teeth, and flossed.
Finally, I heard, “Quinn, you still there?”
“I am, Mark. Problems?” A glance at my watch told me he’d kept me on hold for ten minutes.
“I’m sorry. And yeah, there’s a serious problem. The Division and Scarlet Chamber have hooked up.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Why?”
“If de Becque has thrown himself in league with the Scarlet Chamber—” The Frenchman and Mark had not only been friends for quite some time, but friends with benefits. It would destroy Mark to realize someone he trusted had gone to the dark side.
“Nah. He left with all the operatives who had a brain, but Lynx pitched a shit fit and is out to get Pete and everyone who threw in with him. I’ve got to go to Paris and deal with it.”
“You’re not in the field any longer. This isn’t your problem.”
“It is. A friend is calling in a favor.”
“De Becque?”
“No. It’s Femme.”
“Ah.” I had to confess I was relieved. While Mark had had a brief affair with the Division’s Chief of Interrogation, I knew he preferred men. If it had been De Becque, however... if he had asked Mark to go to Paris and Mark had agreed, I wouldn’t have been happy. I would have hidden it of course—I was the Ice Man, after all—but I would have been tempted to eliminate de Becque.
“Uh… are you jealous, Quinn? I mean, I’m dropping everything to fly to France for her.”
“Just as you dropped everything for Val. I know you, Mark. As little as you’d like other people to realize it, you’re a good man, an honorable man.” And I had to change the subject before he realized if there was anyone of whom I could be jealous, it would be de Becque, not Femme. “Now, I imagine you need to get a good deal accomplished before your flight—”
“Yeah, that flight. It’s too bad the Concorde isn’t flying out of Dulles today,” he muttered, and of course he’d be aware of that.
“Let me call Uncle Bryan. He knows someone who flies charters. She’ll do it for him.”
“Can she get me to Paris?”
“You’re not objecting?”
“Hey, your uncle owes me for having all the fun last evening.”
I couldn’t help laughing. Mark did like to be in control. “She can’t make Concorde time, but she’s fast.”
“Thanks, babe. I appreciate it.”
“I’ll get to it then—”
“Quinn, wait!”
“Yes?”
“Stay in London. Well, stay in Europe. It shouldn’t take long to get this done. There’s a little bar in Paris near the Place Pigalle, Le Petit Homme. Meet me there?”
“Of course, Mark. Place Pigalle, Le Petit Homme,” I repeated. “When?”
“Shit. I’ve got no clue how long it will take me to wrap this shit up.”
“Never mind. I’ll be there, and I’ll see you when I see you.”
“Thanks, Quinn. I… uh….”
“I know. Forever.”
“Well, yeah, but….”
“We’ll talk about it in Paris. Now get going so your lover won’t have to wait forever to see you again. And do me a favor please? Don’t get yourself killed.”
“Okay, Quinn. Bye.”
“I’ll see you, Mark.” I hung up, then called my uncle. The phone rang five times, six times, but before I could become concerned, he picked up.
“Whoever this is,” he snarled, “you’d better have a damn good reason for calling at this hour!”
“Uncle Bryan?” I glanced at my wristwatch. Oh, hell. It wasn’t even 4:00 a.m. Los Angeles time. “I’m so sorry!”
“Quinn, is everything all right?”
“Yes. I just got off the phone with Mark, and—I’m sorry,” I said again. “I woke you up. I forgot all about the time difference.”
“As long as you and your mother are fine, we don’t mind. And you didn’t wake us. Your uncle and I were just rehashing the events of this evening.”
“Yes? Mark says you had all the fun.”
“He was a trifle miffed.” Bryan sounded not only amused but inordinately pleased with himself. “It was nice to show him how a spook could handle things.”
I cloaked my laugh in a cough. “I’m sure. The next time I’m out in LA, I’ll want to hear all about it. Meanwhile, I need another favor.”
“Of course. What can I do for you? Or is it Mark who actually needs the favor.”
“It’s Mark. He has to get to Paris as soon as possible. The Concorde isn’t flying today—”
“And even if it was, he’d never get back to Dulles to make the connection.”
“Exactly. I remember you had a contact who was an excellent pilot.”
“Yes, Chili Valdez.”
“Would she be able to fly Mark to Paris?”
“Of course. What’s so interesting in Paris?”
“The Division has joined forces with the Scarlet Chamber, and an insurrection is brewing.”
“Dammit. I was sure Vincent had dealt with the idiots who ran that organization.”
“It doesn’t matter who’s running it. A friend has called in a favor, and Mark has to be there.”
“All right. It won’t be cheap.”
“If it comes to that, I’ll pay the piper.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“And ask Ms. Valdez to contact me once she lands in Paris.”
“What are you planning, Quinn?”
“Why would I be planning anything?”
“Jesus, you’re just like your mother, answering a question with a question.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. But since I’m here in London, it wouldn’t take me long to get to Paris. Mark and I can spend a few days together.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’d want to talk to Chili.”
“It doesn’t, does it?” I laughed. “Okay, I intend to be available if Mark needs me.”
“Your mother—”
“She’s a grown woman, Uncle Bryan, and she’s getting annoyed having her menfolk tag along after her.”
“I suppose she can stay with Abberley,” he offered grudgingly.
“He’ll probably be tied up with his fiancée, if he isn’t on his honeymoon.”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s decided Mother isn’t his one, but his housekeeper is.”
“That doesn’t say much for his taste.”
“Perhaps not, but Ayesha is quite a lovely young woman, and I think he’ll be very happy with her. At any rate, Mother can come to Paris with me.”
“All right. I’ll call Chili, and then I’ll call Vincent to fill him in on the details. And then I’m going to bed.” He’d raised his voice slightly, and I wondered about that, but I didn’t bring it up.
“Thanks, Uncle Bryan. Good night.”
“’Night, Quinn. Oh, and Tony says good night too.” He gave a soft huff of laughter and hung up, and I did the same, shaking my head.
I was pleased my uncles were getting along so well, but sometimes they were very confusing.
I placed my phone on the dresser and did some rapid calculations. Knowing Mark, he’d have the pilot push her jet to the max, but while getting from DC to Paris could be a seven or eight hour flight, with the time difference, I could count on an additional six hours. Mark could arrive in Paris any time after midnight.
I went into the sitting area, where Mother was reading in the original Russian the copy of War and Peace she’d brought with her. She looked up and smiled. “Ready for lunch, sweetheart?”
“Slight change of plans,” I told her.
Her eyebrow arched, and she marked her place in the book, closed it, folded her hands, and waited.
“Mark has a job to do in Paris.”
“Does this have anything to do with Valentine?”
“No. Val is safe.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. What happened?”
I told her, and when I mentioned Giles Stapleton’s name, her lips tightened. “Do you know his family also?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, I do. If he was telling the truth, and if Valentine’s sister actually is engaged to him, then I pity the poor girl.”
“It remains to be seen if the marriage will take place. According to Mark, Stapleton is heading for prison.”
“His father will pay to see that doesn’t happen. Walter Stapleton has plans to run for governor. The last thing he wants is for his children to cause another scandal.”
“Another?”
“Annabella Stapleton, Giles’s youngest sister, has been in and out of rehab since she was thirteen, and Chloe, the oldest sister, has had more affairs, both while she was married and after she was divorced, than your uncle Bryan’s stepdaughter. Having Giles involved in a kidnapping plot would be the straw that broke the camel’s back.”
I shook my head. “If they succeed in getting Giles out of serving prison time, they won’t be doing Giles a favor.”
Mother sighed. “They’ve done none of their children a favor.”
I wasn’t going to correct her belief, not that her belief was erroneous. If Giles Stapleton didn’t go to prison for what he’d done to Val, then Mark would deal with him himself. It was what he would have done if my uncles hadn’t stepped in.
“Since Mark’s visit to Paris has nothing to do with Valentine’s abduction, can you tell me why he’s going there?”
“Are you familiar with the Scarlet Chamber?”
“I’m aware the Archbishop and the Abbot were both erased.” Her use of that term reminded me she wasn’t a woman with whom to trifle.
“Yes. Unfortunately that hasn’t done anything to stop the Scarlet Chamber’s activities. There’s a new coordinator, and it seems the Division has formed a relationship with her.”
“A woman? I find that interesting. I was under the impression Robert Lynx was something of a misogynist.”
“He is.” I remembered my meeting last spring with the man who ran the Division, when someone in his organization—Pierre de Becque, as it turned out—had the CIA’s database hacked in an attempt to get information about me. Lynx had tried to be conciliatory, but since I’d learned a certain WBIS agent had recently done the same thing, I’d been neither appeased nor inclined to look the other way. “Women work out of the Division, but the majority of them are Valentine operatives. In addition, Lynx is a martinet who insists his way of doing things is the only way.”
Mother sat back and crossed her legs. “I don’t see any way that this can be a good thing.”
“It’s not. The Division has become splintered. A friend of Mark’s has asked for his help.”
“Ah. Will you be going to Paris as well, sweetheart?”
“Yes, but I won’t be involved in whatever the confrontation is,” I assured her. “Mark simply wants me to meet him afterward.”
She nodded. “In that case, it seems we’ll be making a jaunt to Paris.”
“We?”
“Of course. It’s been a while since I’ve been to the House of Dior. That should be a viable-enough excuse for my traveling with you.” She was absolutely right. “Now, I’ll call the front desk and have Mr. Henderson come up to pack for us. Suppose you make the travel arrangements?”
“I’ll get right on it, Mother.”