"I needed money." He rubbed his eyes, then glugged the water Peabody had brought to him. "Mother got this insane idea to auction off her things, so many of her things, and just give it away. This damn foundation idea of hers. I'm her son." He shot her a glance that begged for pity. "Why should she give all that money to strangers when I need it?"
"So you needed to figure a way to keep it in the family."
"We argued. She said she was cutting me off. She'd said that before, but I thought this time she might have meant it. I was so angry. She's my mother," he said, looking to Eve for understanding.
"You went to see your friends."
"Needed to blow off steam. I went to see Dom. You wouldn't catch his father shoveling money to strangers like this. Dom never has to worry how he's going to pay a fucking bill. We were just talking, having a few drinks. I said something like, I should just take the stuff, sell it myself, and see how she liked it. We were just talking about how it could be done. Just talk. Then it started looking like maybe it could be done. Hundreds of millions of dollars. I'd never have to worry again. I could live the way I chose, with no one to answer to.
"I guess I got pretty drunk. I passed out, and the next thing I know it's morning and Dom's talked to his old man. It just started rolling. We got Michel, went down to see him, and talk about it. It still seemed unreal, you know. Just like a game. But Dom's old man, he said we could do it. He knew how to set it up. We'd each take a percentage after expenses. It was business, that's all. Nobody said anything about murder. Just business."
"When did Yost come into the mix?"
"I don't know. I swear to God. We had it planned out. I was to go back, make it up with my mother, and ask to help out. Get involved in the setup so I could pass on information. That's when I found out she'd hooked up with Roarke. I didn't like that part of it. You hear things about Roarke. But Naples, he liked it a lot. Said it added spice. He brought in another partner, the German guy, and because Dom and I were tied up with other business, they met with Michel in Paris."
He licked his lips, searching Eve's face for support, for understanding. For mercy. And saw nothing but the cold, clear eyes of cop. "I think, they must… I don't know. They must have cooked up bringing Yost in during those meetings. All I knew then was that the German had pulled out. Naples called him a fish belly. But it left more for us, and Naples was going to arrange the transpo personally. He hired on a couple more guys. It was starting to make me nervous, all those expenses. But when I complained, it got nasty. Dom said how it was best for me to let him deal with his father direct from then on. He'd pass instructions to me. All I had to do was give them the details, the timing, pass along the security scheme, and keep my mother happy. They said they had a way to keep Roarke occupied and off my back."
He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. "You can see, can't you, you can see that I was in too deep to back out. You can see how it wasn't my fault. And now I'm cooperating, right? That makes a big difference."
"Oh yeah. You want to keep cooperating, Vince. You want to keep going."
"Yeah, I'll tell you everything I know. See, just a few weeks ago, Dom gets in touch. He says I have to come up with a million for a consult fee, that's my share of it. It's to go into Naples Communications, and they'll fix the books so it'll look like I've bought some swank new system. I went nuts. A fucking million. I don't have that kind to outlay. I wasn't looking at that kind of an expense. What the hell kind of consult runs a million for just my share?"
He buried his head in his hands. "And he told me. He told me about Yost, he told me about the contract, the murders. And he said there was no backing out now. We were in it all the way, so I should beg, borrow, or steal my part of the fee because once the contract was complete, Yost was going to want his money. I didn't know what to do. What was I supposed to do? She started it, cutting me out of what was mine. It's not my fault."
"Yeah, I can see how your mother's to blame for all this. You want to live, Vince? You want me to make sure Yost doesn't come hunting you? Start filling in details. Give me names."
"I don't have much." He lifted his head again. "I figured out they were leaving me out of the loop. Using me. They're the ones who should pay for all this. They're the ones you should go after."
"Oh, don't worry about that. They're going to pay."
While Eve was working to draw a more concise and thorough statement from Lane, Roarke walked into his home. He checked the security panel, noted that Mick was enjoying a dip in the pool.
He took the long way around to give himself time.
The pool house smelled of hot flowers and cool water. There was the musical sound of a fountain, spraying and tumbling, playing under the blast of the Irish rebel songs Mick had chosen to keep him company while he did laps.
Roarke walked over, chose one of the thick blue towels from the stack, and went to wait by the side of the pool.
Mick slapped a hand on the edge, shook his hair out of his eyes, and peered up at Roarke. "Ya coming in?"
"No. You're coming out."
"That I am." Mick stood up, let the water stream off him for a moment, then walked up the steps. "Christ, that's the kind of small pleasure a man could grow used to. Thanks," he added, taking the towel Roarke handed him and rubbing it briskly over his face.
There were guest robes hanging nearby. Mick selected one, bundled in. "Don't expect a man of your means and responsibilities to pop home middle of the day."
"I had an interruption this morning. You know, Mick, in all the times we've had, good and bad, all we've done together and apart, you were the last I'd have expected to come at a friend from the back."
Slowly, Mick lowered the towel. "What's your meaning?"
"Does friendship come so much cheaper these days than it did when we were lads?"
"Nothing comes cheaper these days, God knows." He looked baffled. "Come out straight with it, Roarke. You've put me in the dark."
"You want it straight?"
"Aye."
"Then here it is." He rammed his fist into Mick's face and watched his childhood friend topple backward into the pool.
Weighed down by the sopping robe, blood streaming from his mouth, Mick surfaced. There was blood in his eye as well as he lunged for the side of the pool.
But it had faded, nearly turned into a glint of humor as he hauled himself out again.
"Fuck it, you've still got a fist like a brick." He wiggled his jaw, stripped off the wet robe. "How'd you figure it out?" he began, then lifted a hand. "No, if you don't mind, I'd rather have some pants on and a whiskey in my hand when you tell me."
"All right." Roarke nodded coolly. "We'll go upstairs together." He strode toward the elevator. "Summerset's fine, by the way."
"Why wouldn't he be?" Mick asked easily, and stepped in with Roarke.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Roarke waited, standing by the south window while Mick put on trousers. He kept his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the trees, and the high stone wall beyond them.
He'd used the trees, the lavish roll of lawn, the flowers, and that stone, to build a place. His place. A spot of beauty and comfort in a world that held too much pain. He'd used it, he knew, to prove to himself that the slums and miseries of Dublin were far behind him, too far behind to pant hot breath on his neck.
And so he had invited into that place, that home, a reminder of what had never really stopped chasing him. He'd invited in a friend of his childhood who had become a betrayer of his present.
"Was it only for the money, Mick? Was it only for the profit?"
"Sure it's easy for you to say that in a deriding voice, Your Highness, when you're rolling in the stuff. Of course it was for the money. Jesus, my take will top twenty-five million at a coast. And it was for the fun. Have you really forgotten how much bloody fun it is?"