More Than a Man Page 18

  Olivia’s eyes were wide. “He knows he can’t kill you.”

  “Maybe he thinks he’s found a way to do it. Which makes me wonder what he’s cooking up. And I wonder who else is going to get hurt.”

  “An explosion?” Jed suggested.

  “That’s one possibility.”

  Noah stood up. “I might as well think about it while I’m in the shower.”

  Like Olivia, he made it fast. When he came back, they were discussing the problem.

  “I’ve got to get in there and find out what’s going on,” Noah said as he sat back down. He looked around the group. “There’s a secret tunnel that leads into the compound.”

  “Odds are, he forced Thomas to tell him about it,” Hunter said.

  “I won’t know until I get there.”

  “Until we get there,” Olivia corrected.

  Noah looked at her. “I want you safe.”

  “He’ll know that, which will make me the wild card he’s not expecting.”

  Noah wanted to argue. Unfortunately he knew she was right. The question was, why did she want to put herself in danger when she could stay out of this?

  He ached to ask her, but her reasons would have to wait.

  Although they made some tentative plans, Noah knew that it was impossible to get on top of the situation before they arrived. There were just too many variables. He needed to know how many people Simon was holding captive and where.

  Or was it even Simon? He was the most obvious choice, but there was no way to know for sure.

  In Santa Barbara a car was waiting at the airport for them, and they started north.

  When they were within a couple of miles of the estate, Noah asked Jed to slow the car.

  “Because Simon’s probably using my long-range scanning system, we’d better stop here.”

  Jed nodded. “Where should I leave the car?”

  “There’s a grove of live oaks up ahead. Pull in there.”

  When they were out of the vehicle, they tested the communication equipment the Light Street men had brought. It was a lot more conventional than the capsule he’d swallowed the day before, and it allowed for two-way transmissions.

  As they looked toward the house, Jed turned back to Noah. “Do you also have the monitors set to capture foot traffic?”

  “It can be calibrated that way, but that takes some special adjustments.”

  “Can we get under it?”

  He laughed. “Crawl for a mile? I don’t think we’re up to that kind of stress at the moment. We can walk until the last three hundred yards.”

  To minimize their exposure, they came in single file, with Noah in the lead. He took them to the front entrance and opened the locked gate, thankful he’d gotten Olivia to agree to go with the others. Hopefully, he’d be the only one in real danger when he went in through the tunnel.

  Olivia made his throat constrict by asking, “What if we’re in a tight spot, and you need to distract Simon?”

  He had thought they were all set. Now she tried to upset the plan. “I don’t want you calling attention to yourself.”

  She kept her gaze focused on him. “What signal would you give me if you need me to do something to get his attention?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t say nothing. I want to agree on a signal—just in case you need my help. The way we worked it when we were escaping from that guy in the hospital. Only I don’t want either one of us having to guess about what we’re doing.”

  He sighed. “Okay. If I say…” He thought for a moment. “If I say ‘Kiss my ass’ to him, you can jump into action.”

  The men around him laughed, and he knew they assumed it was never going to happen.

  It wasn’t. But if having a signal made Olivia happy, fine.

  “We’d better get going,” Max said.

  “Right.”

  Unable to keep his feelings to himself, he reached for Olivia, pulled her close and gave her a hard kiss.

  “Take care of yourself,” he whispered.

  “You, too.”

  “We’ll talk when this is over,” he promised, then slipped along the wall toward the tunnel.

  No one challenged him as he pushed aside the brush that hid the entrance to the tunnel and stepped inside.

  His weapon at the ready, he hurried toward the main compound until a noise over the com unit stopped him cold. It sounded like Jed urgently calling his name.

  He pressed the button. “Sorry, I can’t understand you. Try again.”

  When the only answer he got was static, he knew something was wrong—either with the communications equipment, or they’d badly misjudged the situation inside the house.

  He was trying to decide what to do, when a voice behind him gave a sharp order.

  “Hold it right there, or your wife and your friends die.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Noah whirled around and stared at the man with the gun, trying to figure out if he was hallucinating.

  “How did you get off the mountain?” he asked.

  Pearson Stapler answered with a satisfied smile. “I guess I lead a charmed life. Your friend Dr. Hemmings wanted to find out more about you. He’d learned where you live, so he sprang me from Bainbridge’s prison and sent me here.”

  “Bainbridge said he killed you.”

  Pearson shrugged. “He gave the order, but Hemmings made sure it wasn’t carried out.”

  Too bad, Noah was thinking as he kept his gaze trained on the man. He’d helped himself to some clothing from Noah’s closet—a pair of black slacks, a white dress shirt and a beige cashmere sweater.

  “If you’re thinking about jumping me, don’t. Simon’s got your friends, your wife and Thomas under his control. I made sure of that before I let you know I was behind you. And he can hear what we’re saying. Understood?”

  “Yes,” he answered, trying to keep his voice unemotional when he wanted to scream in rage.

  Stapler smiled in satisfaction. “When I got here, I found Simon had taken over the house. He was surprised to see me, but he realized I could be an asset because there are two ways into this place and each of us could cover one. He’s a fount of information about you. And thanks for the change of clothing, by the way. I was a little the worse for wear after that cell on the mountain.”

  “If you trust Simon, you’re making a big mistake,” Noah answered, punching out the words.

  “The way I see it, he’s a very logical guy. You’re going to pay us a lot to get us out of your life.”

  Oh sure, Noah thought. I just bet you’re going to volunteer to get out of my life. What he said was, “All right.”

  “Thomas spilled the beans about the Light Street Detective Agency. Simon figured you’d take the more dangerous route in here and send in the main party through the front door. He was waiting for them there.”

  Noah bit back a string of curses. Instead, he kept his voice even when he said, “Let the rest of them go.”

  “We can’t do that. You’d jump us. Because Simon’s sure you can’t be killed, the others are our hold on you.” As he spoke, Stapler clicked the microphone clipped to his collar. “I’m bringing Fielding around. If you don’t continue to hear from me, eliminate the others.”

  “Is Thomas all right?” Noah asked.

  “I guess you’ll find out.”

  Noah fought the sick feeling rising in his throat. He wanted to shout that Simon was crazy and trusting him was like playing Russian roulette. But if he said any of that, Simon would hear. Which was also dangerous.

  His mind scrambled for a way out as he walked ahead of Olivia’s brother. He expected to go to the main house. Instead, they headed for one of the old buildings that he used for storage.

  As they walked, he kept scanning the grounds. Nobody else was around. So was his staff dead?

  He struggled to keep his fear for them under control. A lot of people could have gotten hurt, and it was his own damn fault.

  When he stepped into t
he storage building, he found Olivia and Thomas sitting on wooden packing crates against the wall. They were handcuffed, and Thomas appeared to have been beaten.

  Olivia’s gaze shot to him. “Are you all right?”

  “Are you?”

  “Shut up,” Simon growled.

  Dread leaped inside Noah. “Where are the men who came with me?”

  Simon shrugged.

  Unable to control himself, Noah bellowed, “Dammit! Tell me where they are.”

  Thomas’s son gave him a satisfied look. “They’re in a separate storeroom. We don’t need them for this meeting. This is an executive session.”

  Were they still alive? There was no way to know. If they were, maybe they could free themselves. Still, he couldn’t count on that.

  While he considered all the angles, Noah struggled for calm. He had to get control of this situation somehow. The logical place to start was an evaluation of Simon. His hair was neatly combed, his clothing clean and well-fitting, his face smoothly shaven. If Noah had met him on the street, he’d have thought he was normal, except for the bulky jacket he was wearing and the gun in his hand. What was with that jacket?

  Noah’s attention darted back to Olivia as he heard her gasp. Apparently her brother had stayed beyond the doorway to make a dramatic entrance.

  “Pearson?” She stared in disbelief at him. “I thought you were dead.”

  He smiled at her. “I keep coming back like a bad penny, don’t I?”

  “How…how did you get away?”

  “Like I told your husband, Dr. Hemmings knew I could be of use to him. He freed me and sent me here.”

  “That’s enough chatting,” Simon said. “Good work. You can put down your gun now.”

  “I’d rather keep it.”

  “I’m the only one who can have a gun in this hostage situation,” Simon said, with an edge in his voice.

  “Okay.” Looking reluctant, Pearson set down his weapon, then said, “We should get the money and get going.”

  As he picked up the weapon and pocketed it, Simon shook his head. “That’s not the plan.”

  “You said—”

  “Shut up!”

  Pearson clamped his lips together, his face going from smug to panicked. Maybe he was just now realizing that he was dealing with a man who was as predictable as a hurricane.

  Simon pulled out another set of handcuffs. “Put these on and join your sister.”

  “But—”

  “Do it!”

  When Olivia’s brother still hesitated, Simon shot at the floor in front of his feet, barely missing his running shoes.

  With a shriek, Pearson jumped back. “Stop. Okay, stop.”

  “Put on the cuffs and sit down.”

  He clicked the handcuffs onto his wrists, then sat on one of the boxes.

  “Just so we get everything straight,” Simon said in a conversational voice, “I want you to know that I’m wearing one of those vests like the suicide bombers use. So if anyone in here tries anything funny, I’ll blow myself up.” He giggled, and the sound scraped against Noah’s nerve endings.

  The blood drained from Olivia’s face.

  “I’m sorry,” Thomas said.

  “Shut up, Father dear. I brought you here as a hostage, not to give your opinion. Well, maybe later we can have a family confab, but right now I have to deal with Fielding.”

  Thomas closed his mouth again.

  Simon pulled out another pair of handcuffs, which he kicked toward Noah. “Put them on, then join the peanut gallery.” He pointed to another packing crate about ten feet away from the other prisoners.

  Silently raging against the helpless feeling in his gut, Noah clicked on the cuffs and sat.

  Simon’s attention was still on him. “So now you’re finally going to tell us all the truth,” Simon said, “or I start shooting my father and your wife. And I don’t mean shoot to kill. I’ll start with stuff like knee caps. And I don’t think they’re going to regenerate the way you do.”

  Noah ground his teeth together.

  “My father’s been keeping your secret all his life,” Simon said. “But I figured it out. When I was a kid, I used to poke around here and in your other storerooms. I found stuff. You weren’t just an antique collector. You saved a lot of personal things from your past lives, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How old are you?” Simon asked suddenly.

  Noah sighed. He’d given away that secret a couple of times already in the past few days. “I was born in the fourteenth century,” he said.

  “I thought so!”

  Noah doubted that Simon had been that precise, but he wasn’t going to argue about it.

  “And when did you kill your first man?”

  Noah glanced at Olivia, then away. “In Italy. When I was exporting antiquities to England in the fourteenth century. I was suspicious of one of my employees and followed him to my warehouse. He was robbing the place. When I confronted him, he went after me with a knife, and I turned it on him.”

  “So you say.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “To make yourself look better to your wife,” Simon spat out, and Noah heard the hatred in his voice.

  “She knows exactly what I am,” he said.

  “How many women have you raped over the years?” Simon suddenly asked.

  “None.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re completely immoral.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “You’ve kept my father in bondage his whole life.”

  “No!” Thomas protested. “He was always fair with me!”

  Simon swung the gun toward him. “One more outburst like that and you’re dead.”

  The way Simon said it and the tone of his voice sent a chill skittering up Noah’s spine. Simon was teetering on the edge of control and he might not last much longer. If he went berserk, he could kill Olivia and Thomas, no matter what Noah did. And Pearson would be collateral damage. Too bad for him that he hadn’t had the sense to get out while he could. The prospect of acquiring some of Noah Fielding’s wealth had been too tempting.

  “How many men have you killed?” Simon asked Noah.

  “As few as possible.” He stared at Simon, who was also sitting on one of the packing crates. For the first time, Noah looked at the words written on the side and realized with a jolt that it contained stone blocks from a garden wall he’d built in France. He’d loved that garden and he’d wanted to take part of it with him when he had to leave.

  Perhaps those blocks gave him an option. If Simon was on the floor on the other side of the box, the stone might be thick enough to shield the other people in the room if Simon set off the explosives he was wearing. Or was the thick jacket just a bluff? That was a possibility, of course. But Noah couldn’t risk Thomas’s and Olivia’s lives on that assumption.

  Noah calculated the distance between himself and Simon. How fast could he spring across those eight feet?

  His gaze flicked to the captives. Thomas looked angry, Pearson looked like he was about to wet himself and Olivia clenched her hands in her lap, her shoulders rigid. When he looked at her, she looked back, her gaze boring into him, and he knew that she was trying to remind him of their earlier agreement.

  He’d wanted to keep her out of this, but she was smack in the middle of the action. But just maybe she was the key to neutralizing Simon.

  “I want to know how many men you’ve killed. You must have kept count,” Simon prodded, relentless. “Answer me, you bastard, or you’ll be sorry. And don’t you dare lie, or your wife is going to get it in the knee!”

  Knowing it could all go wrong in the next instant, Noah glared at Simon and growled, “Kiss my ass.”

  Olivia made a strangled sound as she stood up. “Leave us alone,” she shouted. “You’re the bastard. We haven’t done anything to you so leave us alone.”

  She started to scream at the top of her lungs, and Simon turned his gun on her.

  No
ah made his move, leaping across the eight feet that separated him from Simon. The gun swung back toward him, but Noah was already there, grabbing for Simon’s hands as he shoved the man over the box and onto the cement floor, where he landed with a thud.

  For a moment Noah thought he was home free—that the suicide bomber’s vest was just a bluff.

  Beneath him, Simon struggled to move his arm. The explosion came seconds later, and Noah was engulfed by searing pain. Maybe this was it.

  Finally.

  The end of Noah Fielding.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Noah woke up the way he always did—probably because the bulletproof vest under his clothing had saved him from the worst of the blast. He’d objected to wearing it when the Light Street men had given it to him. Now he was glad he’d listened to them.

  Still, his chest hurt like a son of a bitch. And he knew from the pain in the lower part of his body that he’d suffered some damage to his legs.

  When his eyes blinked open, he saw that he was lying on his own bed and that Olivia was in a chair beside him.

  “You’re awake,” she said softly.

  “We have to stop meeting this way,” he managed to say.

  When she burst into tears, he groped for her hand and held it tightly. “I’m sorry,” he got out.

  “For saving my life?”

  He could see her struggling for control. “No. Not that. Never that.”

  “For what?”

  He might have said, for being alive. But he was glad to be here, more glad than he had been in a long time.

  “For putting you in danger again.”

  She swiped her hand across her eyes and gave him a direct look. “You didn’t put me in danger. I volunteered.”

  “And you were very brave to pull Simon’s attention toward you.”

  “I think it was the only way.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I got hit by some debris. No big deal.” Still needing to know the exact situation, he asked, “What happened to Thomas and the Light Street guys?”

  “The Light Street men are all right. Like Simon told you, they were in another building. We freed them.” She laughed. “They were embarrassed at being caught at the front gate.”