“Please.” It was a child’s voice that called to him. Her green eyes sparkled with moisture in her bed’s field of blue. “You can do what you want, or you don’t have to do anything,” Felicity said. “Just don’t go.” Morgan was not sure why he should care so much for this girl he had known only days, but his affection won out over his common sense.
Feeling just a bit silly, he pulled off his pants and slid into the bed behind her. Her body was cool and soft to the touch. Awkwardly he wrapped his arm around her. The sound she made as she snuggled back into him was difficult to classify. It was clearly a kind of “mmmmmm” sound, made from behind a smile. Perhaps it was the sound a cat would make if it were somehow converted to human form and somebody rubbed its tummy.
Within a minute she dropped into a deep sleep. He figured he could probably use some sleep too. Besides, there was not much else to do, so he closed his eyes and began the process of shutting down his physical and mental systems.
“Good night, Red,” he mumbled.
17
Pearson shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes wandering around the brightly lighted room. He stood nervously in the quiet boardroom, surrounded by people whose power was beyond his understanding. The man behind him, Monk, had the bone crushing power of a giant mountain gorilla. Pearson had killed for money, but from the stories he had heard, Monk liked to kill men just for fun. The guy standing beside Pearson was cool and indifferent. Yet he had the power to move men and women like pieces on a chessboard, trading what they wanted for what they were able, and willing to do. Stone was no fighter, but he had a history of toppling governments and creating wars.
Each of them was dangerous in his own way, but only the man behind the desk gave Pearson chills. He was short, with thick stubby fingers and a pockmarked face, yet a pulsing aura of power surrounded him. Here, in Pearson’s eyes, was a prime mover, a basic elemental force. He had the ultimate power, the kind that comes from wealth and position. He could have anyone in the room killed with a snap of his fingers. Pearson saw nothing in his eyes but greed. This was Adrian Seagrave, and his kind of power you just did not fool with.
“So, tell Mister Seagrave what you told me over the phone,” Stone said. “Explain to your benefactor just why it was that you failed him.”
“Well, sir,” Pearson began, pausing to clear his throat. “We were sent on a simple hit, Shaw and me, to take care of a girl thief. Stone told me she was a loner. We set it up real easy, waiting for her in her apartment. Figured to make it a clean hit, look like a burglary, right? Then, all of a sudden, there’s this big black guy comes crashing in, blasting away like a goddam war was going on. He blew Shaw away, just like that. I was lucky to get out alive. This Stark character, he’s crazy. I figured I wasn’t getting paid to deal with that kind of action. So I thought I ought to call in for instructions. Stone told me to get here on the double.”
“And well he did,” Seagrave said. “Very good.” Despite his words of praise, Seagrave’s face remained completely neutral. He leaned back in his desk chair, forming a tent with his fingers. “Please step over to the bar, Mister Pearson. Help yourself to whatever you like.” Pearson nodded, forced a smile, and gratefully slipped over to the other side of the room. He tried to listen in on the conversation behind him. Seagrave seemed relaxed and seemed to have forgotten Pearson existed, his attention now focused on Stone.
“You have a reason for bothering me with this detail?”
“I thought you should hear it first hand, from the source,” Stone said.
“Is this a problem?”
“In my opinion, yes,” Stone answered.
“Why?”
“The woman is determined,” Stone said. “And somehow, she has found herself some very effective assistance.”
“So it would appear. Who is this man?”
“Morgan Stark. It is a name you should remember,” Stone said, daring to lock eyes with his superior. “He led the team on that Belize mission for you. As you will recall, we left him in the jungle, without transportation, surrounded by a hostile army, hundreds of miles from any kind of support.”
Seagrave’s brows knitted over his tiny eyes. “And he survived?”
“Let me tell you about this man Stark.” Stone paused for emphasis, closing his eyes as if he were searched his mental files, composing words in order to say a great deal as briefly as possible. “He’s strong, tough and fast. Tactically sharp and experienced. An agile, quick thinking professional soldier, with great endurance, a high level of skill and seemingly infallible instincts.”
“You are impressed by this man.” Seagrave pulled a cigarette from a gold case.
“I’ve been dealing with mercenaries, professional killers and hired muscle for a long time,” Stone said. “I can verify that Shaw and Pearson were definitely overmatched. This man is the best survivor I’ve ever seen. And he just might be the most dangerous man I know.”
“Second most dangerous,” Monk said, his low, raspy voice coming from behind Stone.
“Perhaps,” Stone said, not turning around.
“And the girl?” Seagrave asked, lighting his cigarette with a large standing lighter from the desk.
“About the girl, little is known,” Stone said. “However, I can tell you that she has amassed a sizable fortune as a jewel and art thief without ever once being arrested. And if Stark respects her, then so do I.”
Seagrave shrugged and blew a thick cloud of smoke at the ceiling. “These people are both for sale. Pay them off.”
“I don’t think so, sir. They will want full payment for their jobs, plus an additional settlement for the attempt on the girl’s life. Even if you considered that price acceptable, you expose yourself to future extortion from contractors if you submit.”
Seagrave lowered his eyes and nodded. “Recommendation?”
“In my opinion,” Stone said, “these people should be eliminated with all possible dispatch. One dangerous man and one determined woman have been enough to topple empires in the past.”
“Well put, Stone.” Seagrave stood, and paced for a moment behind his desk with his hands locked behind his back. On one circuit he glanced at Pearson, who smiled back and downed his drink quickly. “Surely they’ve left the girl’s apartment by now,” he told Stone in a quiet voice. “Based on your input they must both have secure hiding places. How are we to find them?”
“Based on my knowledge of them, we probably won’t, now that they’ve been alerted. However, they’ll certainly be looking for me. I was the contractor who hired them both. And I’m quite sure that worm at the bar traded our location for his life.”
“Hey, I didn’t tell them anything,” Pearson said, sliding off his bar stool. Seagrave and Stone turned as if they had forgotten he was there. Monk’s hand thumped down on Pearson’s shoulder, locking him in place.
“I could alert the people on the street to look out for anyone who is looking for me,” Stone continued, ignoring Pearson’s outburst. “Perhaps place a bounty on their heads, thereby turning every tout and petty gunsel in town into a walking death trap, a gantlet to be run on the way to me.”
“Excellent, Stone.” Seagrave beamed at his lieutenant. “I’ll offer, what do you think, fifty? All right, fifty thousand dollars to whoever takes care of this little problem for me. Get to it right away. Now call my secretary back in. And finalize the details for our end of the month meeting. And Monk…”
“Yes sir?” Monk grated out.
“Take our guest downstairs and show him the way out,” Seagrave said with a smile.
Monk prompted Pearson with a shove. By the time they reached the door, Seagrave was back at work at his desk. Stone was at the conference table end of the suite, using the telephone. Monk escorted Pearson down the hall and into the elevator.