“We should search the offices first, on the floor below the apartment,” she said. “He might be keeping a safe down here, and it’s the safest place for us to start anyway. The business should be all shut down for the night.”
Nonetheless, the two intruders walked along the walls. Felicity pulled on a pair of surgical rubber gloves and tested doorknobs. The first two doors were unlocked. In each case, Morgan stood at the door prepared for trouble while Felicity searched the small offices with swift, thorough efficiency. Using a penlight barely larger than a pair of AAA batteries she moved every object in the room, yet she left everything exactly as it was before she came. No valuables came into view in either room, although she did find some interesting files in the second office.
“This looks shadier by the minute,” she told Morgan when she left the room. “For an import company, they sure don’t import much, but the company does seem to move a great deal of money in the commodities market. I think our boy spends his time influencing the market for profit.”
Morgan shrugged. “We’re talking about a guy who’d see a piece of jewelry he wants and then just steal it. That kind of person would do anything.”
“You think so, eh?” Felicity said. When Morgan didn’t respond she returned to the elevator and pushed the up button.
When the doors slid open Felicity froze. She hastened to the double doors on the other side of the hall. Leaning forward, she could hear voices. She eased the knob around a quarter turn and pushed the door open a quarter inch. A bright beam of light stabbed out through the crack. With her left eye, she scanned the long meeting room, past the reception area, up to the conference table. Two well-dressed men sat at each side of it. Behind each of them stood a larger, yet also well-dressed man. At the near end of the table a thin, gray haired man drew on a long cigarette. But at the far end, there sat the man from the newspaper report.
“It’s him!” she hissed. As she stared into Adrian Seagrave’s pockmarked face, something snapped inside her. Being so easily swindled and so carelessly disregarded had stung her pride. It short-circuited her brain. At that moment the brooch lost all meaning for her. The money was no longer the issue. Her professional pride demanded justice. It screamed in her head that Seagrave must be made to treat her with respect. Her reputation, her pride, her professional standing were her most precious possessions. Before Morgan could react, she burst through the door, hearing it slam against the wall behind her as she stalked forward.
“Seagrave!” she shouted, teeth bared. “My names O’Brian. Do you know the name? You owe me!”
Ignoring the two football player types pulling snub nosed thirty-eights from under their jackets, she surged forward into the late business meeting, carried along by her indignation.
28
Just when he thought he was getting to know Felicity, Morgan watched her do something totally irrational. The door she had burst through hit the wall with so much force it bounced back toward him. He shoved the door wide again and drew his pistol as Stone stood, stopping Felicity’s charge with a hand on her stomach. Her eyes were locked on Seagrave’s. He and she were in their own world, with her launching ice darts from her eyes. Judging from Seagrave’s face, he had no idea who she was or why she had invaded his meeting with talk of some forgotten debt.
Morgan had drawn Stone’s attention away from that conflict when he entered behind the girl. His gun was drawn but he was out in the open, facing two pistols. He had to protect Felicity, yet he knew it was impossible. His only hope was that Stone would stop the other two from opening fire.
“Tell your boys to drop their guns,” Morgan snarled with all the arrogance he could muster. “You’re the only one here who knows what I can do, Stone. We can avoid a bloodbath if you stop them now.”
“Is he mad?” Seagrave broke away from Felicity’s gaze to find Stone’s face.
Stone’s eyes shone with fear, but his voice was tightly controlled. “I assure you he is sane, but not rational. No doubt if one of these men were to open fire, he would fight. Based on his previous record, he could well take out the whole room full of us, and to hell with himself when he finally went down.”
“I’m getting nervous over here.” Morgan stepped closer, madness in his eyes. “I might start shooting anyway if they don’t drop those pieces.”
“Please don’t,” Stone said firmly. “There is a third gun on your back. You must surrender.”
Stone’s limpid blue eyes and hypnotists voice had been just enough of a distraction. Before he could react, Morgan felt two fleshy vices clamp onto his upper arms. The grating voice behind him said, “I don’t need my gun.”
Morgan’s hands went numb and his pistol dropped with a muted clunk into the carpet. Monk’s fingers bit into his biceps, cutting off the circulation. Monk lifted him off the floor, holding him at arms’ length. Morgan swung a booted heel into one of the brute’s thighs with no visible effect. He hung helplessly in the air as Stone stepped majestically toward him.
“I believe some introductions are in order,” Stone began, picking up Morgan’s automatic. “The lovely lady with the rather confused expression on her face is Miss Felicity O’Brian, jewel thief extraordinaire, obviously quite skilled in breaking and entering. The black gentleman is Morgan Stark, the mercenary soldier we’ve discussed before. Our business companions at the table and their protectors had best remain nameless. Paul?”
Another tall, neatly dressed man stepped from behind the desk to Morgan’s left. He expertly searched Morgan, removing all three of his knives in the process. His ice blue eyes stared into Morgan’s appraisingly.
“So you’re Stark. No surprises.”
“This gentleman is Paul,” Stone continued. “He and Miss O’Brian have met.”
“I’d guess you set up that ambush in the Bronx,” Morgan said. “Very professional.”
While Morgan spoke, Paul body searched Felicity as well. He nodded acknowledgment of Morgan’s remarks while, in a cool, detached manner, he removed her tools and explored her entire body for weapons.
“Just two days ago,” Stone went on, “Mister Stark escaped a trap rather carefully laid on by Paul, killing two of his closer associates in the process. Oh, and the genetic anomaly which stepped from behind the bar to detain Mister Stark is known as Monk. You may put him down now, Monk.”
Monk tossed his captive to the floor as if he were a broken doll. Morgan sprang to his feet immediately and Felicity moved to his side. They both followed Stone’s gaze across the room.
“And this gentleman, whom you have both dealt with but never met, is Adrian Seagrave.”
Seagrave stood, and Morgan stared hard into that face of granite. Yes, the body was soft, but the eyes were as hard as marble. In that face, he could see the strength and ruthlessness a man needs to be a dictator. Behind Seagrave’s eyes he saw the coldness of a man who would kill casually for what he wanted, a man completely devoid of conscience. A man strong enough to control a huge financial empire, control a man like Stone, and even the apelike man now guarding the door.
Morgan had been momentarily captivated by Seagrave’s ugly aura. Felicity broke the silence and the spell.
“You don’t know who you’re messing with,” she snapped, her accent drifting to a stronger brogue. “I want that brooch and I want it now. And I want the money you owe me to cover for the mess your boys made in my home before Morgan took care of them. We had a deal, damn it, a contract. And you just plain cheated me. You can’t just go around doing stuff like that and expect to be getting away with it.”
“She’s right about one thing,” Morgan added, his calm tones standing out in sharp contrast to Felicity’s anger. “You can’t keep doing business this way. Stone must have told you that. Without a reputation to lean on, nobody worth having will work for you for long. And someone will bring you down. If not me, then somebody like me later on.”