Cali, Colombia

October 3

Agent Z shoved his hand into the pocket of his coat to reassure himself the smooth steel atomizer was still there as he entered the Centro Cultural de Cali, headquarters of the municipal secretaries of tourism and culture. The nine-hour bus ride from the airport in Quito, Ecuador had exhausted him, and he was anxious to complete the first part of his mission. Ten minutes before closing, most of the workers had already departed for the day, but a lone clerk remained at the information desk.

From a distance, the agent checked the clerk against the photo in his pocket. The information he’d been provided was correct. The newest man hired was the only one who had to stay until the end of the shift.

Agent Z asked the man for a list of area hotels and sprayed him when he turned his back to retrieve the information from a rack behind him.

By this time tomorrow the agent would be in Dallas, stalking a twenty-two-year-old woman. As assistant manager of a McDonald’s restaurant on Lemmon Avenue, her duties included the unfortunate task of closing up for the night.

London

October 7

“Stop looking so bored and smile, honey.”

Zoe Anderson-Howe automatically complied as she faced her father, who looked particularly handsome this evening in his favorite navy Savile Row suit and cream silk tie. The tie matched the low-cut cocktail dress she’d chosen for the occasion. Her long, dark brown hair was swept up in a fashionable chignon, and the delicate sapphire necklace that added a splash of color to her ensemble matched the deep blue of her eyes.

“That might be easier if it weren’t the third time we’ve done this in as many weeks, Daddy. And from what you say, it’s gotten us nothing. Why should tonight be any different? I really don’t have much to smile about.”

“Perhaps,” Derrick said, scanning the well-heeled guests assembled in the private banquet room at the Loose Cannon, one of London’s premiere staging grounds for corporate gatherings. The food was exceptional and the ambience of the arched brick walls and understatedly elegant decor set the place apart. “But we have about twenty reasons to try, all of them handpicked to be here tonight.”

Zoe sipped her champagne and considered her options. Many of the hundred or so guests were unfamiliar. “Do I need to dazzle anyone in particular?”

Her father tilted his head toward a couple in their late forties, an Internet-made millionaire with a bad hair transplant and his newly Botoxed companion. “Why don’t you start with Van Haren and his wife?”

Zoe sighed, but her faux smile never faltered. She knew her job as PR Director of Skye Lines, her father’s airline, required a certain amount of after-hours schmoozing, but this recent need to aggressively court new investors was demeaning. Not to mention terminally boring and rarely effective. The tight economy had everyone watching their wallets.

“Ah, yes, the nouveau riche and their scent of eau de despair. Forever angsting about their inferior beginnings and constantly desperate to fit in. I don’t think I have the energy to deal with boring stories about their above-all-odds and beyond-everyone’s-expectations catalogue of achievements.”

Derrick Anderson-Howe waved to acknowledge a well-known local realtor who was looking their way as he leaned toward Zoe and lowered his voice. “Although your appraisal of them is accurate, tonight is about being productive. Unless you want to start cooking your own meals, making your own bed, and getting your beautiful hair done at WeSnippit, we need their money. We need everyone here to like us and we need them to trust us.”

“And what better way than by showing them what a wonderfully united team we make,” she said drolly.

“That’s right.” His hazel eyes beseeched her to turn on the charm. Zoe looked nothing like her fair-haired, chiseled-jaw father; she had her mother’s coloring and softer features. “Can you do that for me, for us?”

This time her smile was genuine and heartfelt. “You know I’d do anything for you, Daddy.”

Derrick grinned back and squeezed her elbow in appreciation before returning his attention to the crowd. “I see our reinforcements have arrived.” He gestured with his head toward the door, and Zoe followed his gaze.

“You didn’t tell me Uncle Eddie was coming.” The evening was definitely looking up. Her father’s older brother had a wonderfully dry sense of humor, and she always loved hearing him relive his latest adventures. A bachelor physician/virologist, he taught at Cambridge but was often out of the country, taking jobs as a private consultant.

“You know him,” Derrick replied, motioning his brother to join them. “Never one to make commitments. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Zoe, darling, don’t you look luscious.” Edward embraced her warmly and kissed both cheeks.

“Wonderful to see you,” Zoe replied. “Got some stories for me?”

“Indeed I do.” He winked at her. “But later. I’ve apparently been drafted to use my considerable charms to empty some wallets tonight.” Edward turned to his brother.

“Derrick,” he said with mock seriousness, sticking out his hand.

“Edward,” Derrick replied with a straight face as they grasped hands and shook.

Zoe giggled. Her father never got it when his brother poked fun at him. Derrick was British to the core, but Edward had definitely loosened up from his frequent trips abroad.

“Who shall I woo first?” Edward asked.

Derrick surveyed the room. “Madeleine Beaubien, I think.” He indicated a middle-aged redhead who’d just arrived with a younger woman. “She’s CEO of a large French banking firm that’s recently opened a new branch in the financial district.”

“Great dress, bad accessories,” Zoe commented. “And I don’t just mean the purse, which is still less offensive than the daughter she has draped permanently on her arm.”

Edward laughed and headed off toward the woman.

“Play nice, Zoe,” Derrick said, his voice more pleading than reproachful. He had such a soft spot for her he’d never been much of a disciplinarian. “You are not to provoke her tonight.”

She glanced about for a waiter to refill her glass and spotted an unfamiliar woman near the bar. The tall, lean beauty, dressed in a Vera Wang pantsuit, had olive skin and classically sculpted features.

“Zoe, did you hear me?”

Her father squeezed her elbow again. “Huh? Yes, of course.” The dark-haired stunner across the room was so distracting it took Zoe a few seconds to remember what they’d been talking about. “Besides, it was just that one time,” she said defensively. “She actually slapped the waiter for petting her pedigree Chihuahua and then called him a third-class citizen, not worthy of touching her baby. I just hid the pooch in the coatroom for a few hours. How was I supposed to know her mental meltdown would include getting down on all fours and emitting a special come-hither bark in front of two hundred people?”

She returned her attention to the woman near the bar as her father chuckled. “Who’s the cute butch?”

He followed her gaze. “I think you mean Eleni Skouras. The man to her left is her husband. He’s a Greek ship owner.”

“And she’s a closeted dyke.”

“You are to refrain from—”

“I believe my interest in tonight’s event has been resurrected.” Zoe set her empty champagne glass on a passing waiter’s tray and grabbed two full ones. “And so has my curiosity about the Mediterranean. Go be productive, Dad. I’ll talk to you later.”

As he dutifully headed off toward one of the well-heeled guests, Zoe hesitated, watching him go. She couldn’t help but be concerned about him, given the changes she’d witnessed in recent months. Like many other CEOs in the aviation industry, he’d been worried about the future of the company and in rather bad spirits for the past year. He was tense all the time now, and his sense of humor had evaporated. He kept reminding her how much they needed to find financiers, with an increasing sense of desperation in both his voice and attitude.

To the best of her knowledge, her father had had nothing but brief, purely physical relationships since her mother passed away. None of them were noteworthy enough to require introductions, but he seemed to always have some stunner on his arm, especially for occasions like this. Derrick was certainly prime material for the legions of British socialites seeking a mate. Tall and slender, ruggedly handsome, with just the right amount of distinguished gray at his temples. From all outward appearances, anyway, financially secure and endowed with all the qualities that women most admire in long-term companions—wit, charm, kindness, eloquence, and a deep respect for the feminine gender. But in recent months, he’d been spending more time alone, and he’d asked Zoe to be his companion for this affair, and many others.

Zoe had mixed feelings about the prospect of her father ever remarrying. Certainly she wanted him to be happy, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that such an event would be somehow disloyal to her mother. Ten years had passed since she had succumbed to acute lymphoblastic leukemia, but not a day had gone by without Zoe whispering a morning greeting to her mother and a good night as she retired.

The first years had been hard for both her and her father. Derrick had coped by burying himself in his empire and showering Zoe with gifts and attention. But they were not what she needed. There were things only a mother could give a daughter. Her example had provided Zoe with a disciplined direction to her life and a desire to put others’ welfare ahead of her own. When she died, so did Zoe’s motivation and inspiration. Gone with her mother were her adolescent dreams of studying medicine to join Doctors Without Borders, to actively do something about the poverty and disease-stricken people her mother had felt for and donated to for years.

Instead, Zoe ignored her classes and embraced hedonism. Vowing to take life less seriously, she partied her way through Oxford. She got in because of her father’s financial persuasion, not her own academic abilities, and three years later had a BA in economics and management.

At the age of twenty-three, when her indiscretions and promiscuous behavior started to make the tabloids, her father forced her to join the company. He said it would give her a sense of direction and help her put her energy into something more productive than women and alcohol. She fought until her father threatened to cut her off financially. Although she doubted he’d ever make good on the promise, she also needed something to keep herself busy until the later hours of the day when she could start partying again.

It took Zoe another three years to realize that no amount of women and alcohol would bring her mother back, and yet another three to find herself in a compromising yet less restless life. She did her job, even enjoyed it occasionally, but she was comfortably numb. Even her one-night stands had become so routine she was now looking for ways to up the excitement by taking risks with married women. She enjoyed seeing how far she could get them to go, and this evening was no exception.

Zoe slowly approached the Greek couple. The husband was in what seemed a serious discussion with an Arab, while his beautiful wife looked about as interested in the gathering as she was.

Donning her most charming smile, she stopped in front of the striking woman and offered her one of the glasses of champagne. “A couple of these and you might actually make it through tonight.”

The woman laughed. “Thank you. Is it that obvious?” She accepted the offering and downed the contents.

“Only to someone who’s looking closely. I’m Zoe Anderson-Howe.”

“Eleni—”

“Skouras,” Zoe said. When the woman lifted one eyebrow in surprise, she explained. “I inquired. It was hard not to.”

“Because?”

Zoe positioned herself at the woman’s side and slid her hand down Eleni’s back.

“Because you’re the most attractive woman here.” This could backfire but she didn’t care, and she could tell by the way the woman was looking at her that she was mentally already on second base.

“I’m here with my husband,” Eleni said in a low voice, implying they needed to be careful.

“So I hear. Technicalities don’t deter me,” Zoe replied, and her companion laughed again. “Can I get you another drink?” she whispered in Eleni’s ear.

The woman glanced around nervously and set her empty glass on the bar. “Can you find us a place to drink in private?”

Zoe moved closer. “I’m sure I can arrange that,” she said before discreetly nipping at Eleni’s earlobe. “Follow me.”

Chapter Two

Date: 2015-01-11; view: 891