The Sixth Victim
By M. Willow
Part Two
Chapter Eight
Two weeks had passed since Waverly had called them to his office. Napoleon watched the gathering at the Pink Martini. It was no easy endeavor. The place was decorated with large palm trees and separated into discrete corners and dark alcoves that made it difficult to see everyone at once. But what was plain to see was the presence of Thomas Calburn. The man reeked of nervous energy and power. He'd taken possession of April the minute he saw her, telling her that she had a talent that would make her the next great singer. He'd said that before even hearing her sing a single note. Now she was the talent extraordinaire, the Satin Doll, as she had come to be known. And April had fallen into the role with alacrity.
Again, Napoleon was mesmerized by how well she'd transformed herself into the woman Calburn desired. She'd played it off well—part child, all woman, a blend that kept the man wanting more, yet she had not given it, playing the part of the virtuous tease to the hilt, every bit the lady Sabrina Wellesley had been. And she was a talented singer, weaving the lyrics into stories, strong with emotion.
The Satin Doll would sing, draped over a piano, the entire audience silently watching her as she wove tales of love and woe. But it was Sabrina's signature song that brought the house down and left little doubt of what Calburn would do in the future. It was the Tennessee Waltz--the song he loved above all others. It had been her song.
Solo watched the man seemingly enter a trance whenever she sang it. And now it had become April's signature song.
Napoleon watched the beautiful red-head. April had colored her hair a vivid shade of red. He was surprised to discover it had been her natural hair color. She dyed it a darker shade in order to blend in better. "Red hair stands out too much," she'd said. But in this instance, it had been Calburn's request to dye it red.
"Color your hair, baby," he'd said. "It's gonna look better on you." And April had complied and slowly changed into the woman Calburn dreamed of. It sickened Solo to watch the transformation, yet he'd seen her do it before, back when she was pretending to be Vixen. Of course at that time it was something that she wanted. And it had happened right in front of his eyes. But this case was different because Calburn was forcing the change by sure force of will. Illya had argued that April was in full control, but Napoleon knew better. She was obsessed, obsessed with bringing Calburn to justice. She would do anything to achieve it and that scared him most of all. An obsessed agent made mistakes. Costly mistakes. An obsessed agent would put themselves in danger just to achieve a goal.
"Penny for your thoughts, darling?" the voluptuous blonde said as she snuggled in close to him in the tiny both.
Solo kissed Cynthia Skylar deeply, letting his tongue explore her mouth. He was nearly breathless when they came up for air.
"Just thinking about you." He smiled, taking in the woman who sat next to him. She was all satin and pearls, the green dress clinging to every curve, the perfume he found so intoxicating. Solo felt a familiar stirring when he thought how easy it would be to slip the dress from her shoulders and smoother her with kisses. And so had been their relationship—marathon sex, followed by hours of trying to discretely illicit information from her. She was an innocent by all means, but he could not afford to let his like or desire for the woman make him back down from his original intentions. She was Thomas Claburn's assistant, the woman who'd made him the rich man he was today. She held a wealth of information that could ultimately lead to their goal.
"I bet," she said, laughter lighting her emerald eyes, her voice deep and throaty. She snapped her fingers at the waitress who passed and ordered a martini, then lit a cigarette, taking a deep draw from it. "You're probably dreaming of the Satin Doll just like every other red-blooded male in the room.
Solo leaned over and nibbled her ear. "You're the only woman for me." Then he claimed her lips again, recalling the first time he'd met her.
Cynthia Skylar had come into the secret casino at the back of the club and saddled up to him at the bar. They had struck up a conversation about life in general. It had always been his intentions to befriend the woman on some level, but never had he imagined that it would be romantic. Few women desired a younger lover, at least not the women he'd been with. Most women her age were content to seek a man nearer their own age. But Cynthia was no ordinary woman. She was intelligent without flaunting it. She was a woman who was assured of her position in life, who needed no one to tell her she was important. She just knew it.
Cynthia spent her life among the jet set, hopping from country to country, wielding the power Calburn lent her. If she had ever been in love with the man, Solo was convinced that had long past. Calburn was merely her keys to the kingdom. The man she'd built from the grown up in a world that would have turned their back on her merely because she was female.
Still, she was a puzzle to him. He'd expected a woman who mooned over a man she would never have. Instead he found a woman who seemed to want to marry Thomas for his power, but she wasn't waiting for him. Not by long shot. They were in bed the first date.
Solo found her to be a splendid lover, giving and receiving to a level he'd never experienced, leaving Solo breathless, and yes, feeling guilty for using the woman.
"I once loved Thomas. And perhaps, to a certain level, I still do." She'd said one night after they had made love. "But I'm too old for him. He wants someone he can mold. Someone that won't argue with him when he's wrong. And that's not me."
"Then why do you stay?" he had asked.
"Because it would be difficult for me to start over at my age. I would be out there competing with men and women half my age. It's difficult enough for a woman in a man's world, but at my age I wouldn't stand a chance. And then there's the money of course. Lots and lots of money. As his assistant I command a large staff. I fly around the world, meeting people of importance. Rubbing shoulders with everyone from the president to the biggest stars in Hollywood. And every now and then, I take a lover."
And so had been there relationship—him falling deeper into lust and the case moving nowhere.
"Why don't we go back to my place and make some music of our own." She whispered in his ear, bringing Solo back to the present. "I've got a lot to do tonight, but I can spare some time."
"I think I can figure out what to do with that time," he said, standing and taking her hand.
He looked back as they were leaving. April was leaving the stage, the applause thunderous. Solo felt like his world was spiraling out of control.
0000
April shook with the adrenalin that came from performing on stage. Looking around her opulent dressing room, she eyed the flowers that covered nearly every bit of space. She loved flowers, but not theses. Calburn had sent them. Sent them nearly every day and after every performance. She steeled herself for his arrival now. He always came in, pawing her with his hot hands, kissing her with a passion she didn't feel. She had allowed it because she needed answers, but the deeper part of her wanted to end the terror that haunted her nightly.
The dreams had continued, becoming more and more vivid. She hadn't had another vision, but even that bothered her. What did it mean when the visions ceased? Did it mean she and Napoleon were out of danger? Or was it merely the calm before the storm?
April sat down at the dressing table. Calburn was a man not to be put off so she'd arranged a romantic tryst that had everything to do with finding information and nothing to do with romance. Thankfully, UNCLE had developed a drug that she'd fondly called "April's Drug" because the drug could make a person think they'd had the best night of sex ever. It drew on the fantasies of the person, giving them literally the desires of their dreams. The only drawback—the recipient slept for at least four hours, which meant it was useless at the club since Calburn was interrupted nearly every half-hour with one problem or another.
She had not slept with him, but she knew in her heart that she would go that far if needed. The safety of the world was at stake and the case was personal. She had felt the pain of the woman in her visions. Felt her slow death. She was a part of this now—a sort of fate, she thought. She would not allow her sense of morality to impede the investigation.
The knock at the door made her heart skip a beat. "Come in," she said standing, smoothing her dress. Thomas Calburn walked in, his cold blue eyes sweeping the room and her as if they were one and the same. He was tall, solidly built, the type of man who commanded attention by his mere presence and knew it. He moved like a panther—proud, sleek, ready to strike.
"Come here," he commanded in his deep voice. And April dutifully obeyed, playing the role to the hilt, calling on the skills she'd learned in acting school. This was her role, the room her stage.
She looked down as he took her chin in his hand.
"You were marvelous," he said.
She smiled broadly, letting her pleasure in his satisfaction show. "I was so afraid that you wouldn't like it."
"Of course I liked it, baby. That's why I paid the big bucks to that voice coach of yours."
The voice lessons were given by Illya Kuryakin. They had been started when Calburn had discovered the Russian's talent and after April had literally made a fool of herself on stage that first night.
She remembered with a shudder how Calburn had fumed, accusing her of deliberately being horrible. He'd slapped her across the face and left her boiling with rage that she'd had to stand there and take the abuse.
Later Calburn found out his new band member had talent with all things musical through the careful padding of Illya's resume. A week later he'd hired the Russian to coach her. It had been Solo's idea after he'd seen the bruise that spread along her jaw line. So Illya was her protector of sorts even though she didn't feel she needed one.
"You were good, baby. Real good," he continued, fingering her breast with his left hand.
April moved back from the touch. "Tonight. I want our first time to be memorable, darling."
Calburn smiled indulgently. "As you wish. But I want you to know that after tonight, you'll be completely mine. Everything you are, everything you will be is because of me. I put the clothes on your back. I'm the one that's gonna make you a star. You're nothing without me and you better remember it."
He grabbed her wrists forcefully, pulling her to him. "You got that baby? You're mine just like everything else in this room."
April forced a trembling voice, but she wasn't entirely acting. When Thomas was like that she was genuinely afraid.
"I know I'm yours. I'm nothing without you," she murmured.
The words nearly stuck in her throat. It was too much like her childhood, her domineering father making her feel less than human, watching her mother cater to her father's whims. It sickened her to this day and now she was doing it. Practically licking the boots of the man who would be her killer. As weak as her mother had been with her domineering father.
"See that you don't forget it," he said, releasing her.
"Thank you, Thomas," she continued, eyes downcast, rubbing her wrist, "It was all your doing. If you hadn't hired me, I would never have gotten my start."
He smiled. "Of course, I know talent when I see it. You're going places, baby. To the top with me there every step of the way. You'll see."
"You don't know what that means to me," she said, hoping he couldn't grasp her true meaning. She despised the man more every day. She leaned in for a kiss. He claimed her lips with complete abandonment, running his hands over her body, fondling her breast.
A knock at the door interrupted his intentions.
"Come in," she ordered as she straightened her dress and hair.
Illya opened the door, taking in her appearance and Calburn's at the same time.
"We've got a problem with the stage lighting, Mr. Calburn," he said, leaving April little doubt that he had arranged the entire thing.
Calburn gave the Russian a withering glare. "I'll see to it," he said sharply, turning to her and planting a lingering kiss on her lips, not seeming to care that they had an audience.
"Tonight, baby," he said, his sky-blue eyes meeting hers.
Illya cleared his throat. "Miss Lane," Illya said, using her fake name of April Lane. "I need to go over a few discrepancies with the act."
She looked at Calburn questioningly.
"Sure, I want you to be the best singer in the world. Do what is needed, Illya," he said as he exited the room. Thomas left the door open a crack, clearly indicating that he didn't trust her alone with the Russian.
Now she released the breath she had been holding and regarded Illya who was clearly embarrassed. He'd witnessed the affection between her and Calburn, knew of their tryst later that night. It was something that made her face burn with shame.
Are you okay? He asked with his eyes. She nodded a silent yes, but she was lying. She was in over her head and knew it. Even now she felt the walls closing in on her, making her want to run somewhere and hide.
Her voice was shaky as she spoke, "So what do we need to change about my performance?"
Chapter Nine
"April is our best chance at getting into Calburn's place," Illya said to his pacing partner who'd arrived just over an hour ago.
Solo had been tired when he walked in, but came fully awake when he heard where April would be spending the night. Illya knew it was inevitable. They needed to search Calburn's place again in case the watch had been moved there. And they needed to search him.
"I know, but I don't have to like it." Solo said, practically glaring at the Russian.
"We've got everything in place. She has the knockout drops that will make him think they…"
"Don't remind me," Solo said, pacing to the window. "I know. He gets the knockout drops before anything can happen. She continues the relationship hot and heavy. That should buy us more time to find the bomb, but we've got to move fast. Now that the relationship has started, it could happen any day."
The hotel they were in was located across the street from the club, the pink flashing neon sign casting a pink glow across the room. It was a requirement for all band members to stay at the hotel that Calburn owned, but Illya had come to hate the room, knowing that it was possibly connected to April's visions. Would she answer the telephone in this room, he wondered? Would she answer it and somehow end up in the arms of a madman?
Napoleon wrinkled his nose, pulling a chair over to sit next to the Russian. who lay on the bed with his hands tucked behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.
"Come on Illya. I just can't sit here and do nothing."
Illya looked at his partner and saw the worry etched on his face. The Russian braced himself for the request he knew was coming. Nearly a month ago, Napoleon had asked him to save April at all cost. He'd made it an order which Illya had refused to obey. Napoleon had backed down, partly because he still held hope that they would find another way of dealing with the problem. But now it seemed the chances of finding a resolution were bleak, so he waited for the request he didn't want to honor.
Napoleon locked eyes with Illya. When he spoke his voice was barely above a whisper. "I have never felt so useless. She's with a murderer. A man who plans to seduce her. And I'm sitting here in a hotel talking to you."
Illya sat up, facing his best friend. "I know it can't be easy…"
"You don't know the half of it." Napoleon said sharply, his features flashing from anger to apology.
"I'm sorry. I'm not myself." He leaned forward, cradling his head. When he looked up Illya could see the hopelessness in his eyes.
Napoleon ran a hand through his hair. "I'm tired, Tovarish. I'm tired of seeing my two best friends constantly in danger. I'm tired of standing by idly while it happens."
"We will have this solved soon. You'll see."
"I don't know if I can handle it if something happens to April, Illya. I know we talked about this before. But I'm asking again, as a friend, as your best friend." He closed his eyes, his head dropping, his voice shaky. "You've got to promise me that you'll save her."
"I'll do everything in my power to save both of you."
Napoleon shook his head, his eyes opening as he spoke, "I need more, Tovarish. I need to know if given the choice you'll save April."
And there it was. The request that scared him more than anything. How could he promise to let his best friend die? He had a deep regard for April. She was one of his closest friends, but if it meant saving her life and losing Napoleon, he didn't know if he could do it.
"April has made the same request of me," he said slowly, feeling like he'd broken a confidence, but needing to say it.
Napoleon nodded his head. "I know, but my life's not worth a dime if she's…if she's…" his voice broke. Napoleon stopped speaking, averting his gaze, taking deep breaths. Illya could see his friend struggling to control his emotions.
"Promise me, Illya. Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll save her. I don't care what happens to me. You've got to save her."
The room was quiet as the two men sat, each locked in their own private hell. Could Illya watch Napoleon die, a man that meant more to him than life itself? Could he walk away, live with the knowledge that things could have been different? But then he remembered Lisa, how much he loved her, the feel of her, the taste of her, the life so quickly taken away, the life they would never have. He felt a need for her that existed to this day, would probably be there the rest of his life. He'd lost her and his life was incomplete because of it. If he could, he would have laid down his life to save the woman he loved. If he could. But she was dead.
He looked at him now, seeing the love, the desperation, of a man fighting for the woman he loved, for Illya believed Napoleon did love April even if he wasn't aware of it. It was that man that he felt the string of commonality. They were both men in love with a woman, only Napoleon still had a chance.
"I promise you that I will do everything in my power to save April. I shall not let you down. You have my word."
Napoleon released a breath. "Thank you, Tovarish. It means a lot to me."
But Illya knew the price he would pay for that promise.
Chapter Ten
Mark sat in front of Thomas Calburn's house. He was lucky the man lived on a busy street. No one would ever notice the car that sat there for hours on end. Call it old-fashioned, but he hated to think what could be going on in there. Several times he'd thought of barging in, but he had the listening devise, the sender of which had been placed discretely in her purse. So far he'd heard heavy breathing that made him feel like a voyeur peering through the window at a couple who were making love.
"That's a worrisome thought," he said, thinking of how such a tryst would affect the woman he'd come to think of as a sister. But she had the drug.
"Waverly is too much of a gentleman to allow me to compromise my virtue," she'd joked once when the drug had first been invented.
There was a lot of truth in that statement. Waverly was an old world gentleman who expected even the male agents to adhere to a high moral standard. But, although the drug was offered to all enforcement agents, few men cared to use it. Most of them were more than willing to fulfill a woman's desires. Indeed Mark had only used it once himself and that for a rather insistent man. "There was only so much a bloke could be expected to do in the line of duty," he'd said.
Now he looked up as the bedroom lights went out. The plain was for April to get Calburn into bed then use one of two methods of administering the drug. She could either put a few drops in his drink or use the needle treated with the stuff that was embedded in the ring she wore. Either way he would be out for at least four hours. There were no servants. April had seen to that by telling Calburn that she wanted to be alone with him for their first time thus making him more than willing to dismiss everyone for their tryst that night. Once he was suitably disposed of, Mark and April would search his house for the watch and April would search Calburn.
Mark sighed in frustration. A mission had kept him off the case even after he'd found out about April's visions. He'd then had to beg Waverly to let him in on the case. It had been difficult. Lately Waverly was moving away from teaming the same agents together all the time. He wanted a more fluid team, one that could be matched with any partner and perform efficiently. Mark understood that need. They had a dangerous business and a person only used to working with one individual would suffer greatly if something happened to him. Mark had seen it himself—one partner dying, the other left unable to cope and finally resigning himself.
Still, Waverly didn't know the whole story. April's life was in jeopardy and Mark wanted to make sure no harm came to her. She was important to him—the sister he'd always wanted. But he couldn't just go blazing into Waverly's office and demand to have a bigger part in the case because it was still a secret that April was psychic.
Mark started when he saw the flicker of the upstairs light. It was April's signal that Calburn was safely out of the way and they could begin the search. He jumped from the car and moved quickly to the house. April was standing there, a robe tied around her waist, her hair in disarray. Mark said nothing as he entered the house and started to search the first floor.
It was a plainly decorated house, but large with at least thirty rooms. It was going to take some time to search the entire house. Mark was grateful that the April Drug would keep Calburn out for at least four hours.
Mark headed for the living room while April went back upstairs to search. It seemed Calburn was a neat person. The sparcely furnished room had nothing out of place, making it very easy to search. After three hours, they gave up. The watch had not been found.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing," she said, her Boston accent unusually sharp. "I found only one watch and it looked nothing like the one we need."
"Didn't think we would find anything here, luv. I think he has it somewhere else."
"Every property he owns has been discretely searched. We've got to find it. I want off this case. I'm tired of spending day after day with him. Knowing what he is. Knowing what he's capable of. He killed her, Mark. Took that damn scarf and chocked her till she died."
Mark met her eyes, seeing the pain reflected there. "We're going to stop this bastard. You'll see."
He stood, heading for the door. "I'll be right out front. That guy even looks at you funny, you give the signal."
April smiled indulgently. "I know. I say, "I think it's going to rain."
"Yes, and I come charging in here."
Mark opened the door and headed to the car. He looked back at the house. A wasted day and no closer to their goal.
The next day Mark was sitting in a coffee shop waiting for John Philips. He'd met the man at the Pink Martini and struck up a conversation. They hit it off and now met nearly everyday to have coffee before the club opened. They had a lot in common like their interest in golf, women, and a love of rock music. Philip's was an opportunist, a man who hoped to replace Cynthia one day, but move even beyond that.
"I'll not settle for crumbs," he'd said one day over coffee. And then he had explained how he wanted to head one of Calburn's companies. Perhaps overseas. He had a lot to choose from. Calburn had his hand nearly into everything, from the occasional hobby such as Pink Martini, to companies that dealt with imports and exports. In addition, he was heavily involved in the stock market. All in all Calburn was guaranteed that he would never worry for money. And Cynthia had been the mind behind the man. Her reward—the jet set life she led, mingling with kings and queens and the like. But Philip's wanted more than a jet set life. He wanted the kingdom.
Mark looked up as Philips entered the coffee shop. The man looked edgy, like he'd found out something and was upset about it. Mark's heart quickened. Was this the break they were looking for? Would John tell him something that would lead to the watch?
John sat, snapping his finger at the waitress as he did so.
"I can't believe he did this to me," he said, as the waitress came over and poured a cup of his usual black coffee. He took a deep sip, eyeing Mark. "He wants me to shop for his latest woman. He told me that I'm officially working for her now."
Mark felt himself feeling sorry for the man in spite of himself.
"So what are you going to do?"
Philip's shrugged. "I don't know. Look for another job I guess."
Mark sat back, pulling a face. "At your salary?"
Philips made at least three times his worth. It was going to be hard to find something to equal his current salary.
"Didn't say it was going to be easy. But, I'll at least have my dignity," Philips said, looking a dejected man. "It wouldn't be so bad if it was just once in a while. But he'll have me serving his women until the end of time and I think more of myself than that. I don't intend to wind up like that pitiful mess Cynthia."
Philip's hung his head. "Funny thing is I used to respect him, hope to have a life like him one day. But this thing he's got for women half his age. Always trying to get Sabrina back. Well…it's just not normal. Now he wants me to serve them. Can you imagine? It was bad enough taking orders from that bitch Cynthia, but serving those scatterbrained women…I've got a Harvard degree, for Pete's sake. And he wants me to be a gopher!"
"But a high-priced gopher," Mark added.
"Well, moneys not everything," Philips said grudgingly. But Mark knew John would never leave. Money to him was everything and if it meant serving the Satin Doll, Philips would do it in a heartbeat.
Mark decided to take advantage of John's anger and find out more about Sabrina.
"I know you talked about his thing with women before, but I still don't get it. What's so important about Sabrina?"
"She was the woman of his dreams," Philip said, mockingly. "I never met her, but I heard she was a looker. Red hair, great figure and class. They said she reeked of class. But she was smart enough to get out of here. Probably because Thomas was starting his smothering act."
"Smothering act?"
"Yeah," Philip's said, clearly warming to the subject. "First he falls in love. Then he insists that they drop everything in their life for him. No family. No friends. Just him."
Mark noticed that Philips sounded like he was talking about more than Sabrina.
"I've seen three of them since I've worked for him, but there have been others. It's always the same—find them, change them into Sabrina, make them totally dependent on him. The smart ones get out. The others…" Philips took a sip of the coffee, regarding Mark with hooded eyes. "Always starts the same. Always ends the same."
Mark raised and eyebrow.
"I'm not kidding," Philip said, leaning closer. "The smart ones, they leave. But the others stick around till he's tired of trying to make them into something they'll never be. Then he dumps them and makes sure they can't find a job anywhere. He's got enough power to do it, too."
Mark tried to steady his voice. "So what do you think happens to them?"
"Who knows? I guess they crawl back into the obscurity they came out of. You know, fifteen minutes of fame and all."
Philips stood and threw a few coins on the table. "Well, I got to get going. Got a dame to shop for. Want to get together later tonight?"
Mark shook his head. "I can't. My boss has an assignment for me. I'll see you tomorrow."
Late in the afternoon April sat at a table in the Pink Martini going over her act for the night. Actually she hoped to see Cynthia. She and Cynthia had become good friends since she had started at the club, but there was something about the woman that made April uncomfortable. She wasn't sure if it was her sixth sense, or just something she was picking up, some random feelings. Nevertheless, she steeled herself for Cynthia's arrival. If she hoped to get something out of her, she would need to keep up the façade of a budding friendship.
April looked up as another musician appeared. So far four of the guys were there, but Illya wasn't expected for at least another hour. April yawned. She'd had a difficult night with several nightmares, all showing the same scenario with Illya deciding who lived. And Calburn had been there the entire time. Thankfully he was too tired after their imagined lovemaking to make a play for her.
April was deep in thought when she saw Cynthia breeze into the club. She looked positively radiant in a blue suit, blonde hair pulled into a chignon. She had the look that many women wore after spending the night with Napoleon. April smiled in spite of herself.
Cynthia spotted April and came over, green eyes sparkling as she slipped into the chair adjacent to hers. She fanned herself before speaking, "Damn it's hot outside. What brings you here a full two hours before opening?"
"Got a few new songs to add to the act. I just wanted to go over them with the ban."
Cynthia leaned closer to her. "I'm surprised your boyfriend isn't here."
Illya had been coming to her dressing room daily to check on her. No one had questioned it, believing the Russian was helping her with the act. That is until now. April knew denying a relationship with the blond would be suspicious. Cynthia was not a stupid woman. April decided to go along with the game and knotted her face in confusion.
"You mean Thomas?"
Cynthia laughed. "Only if you don't know the truth."
April's heart was beating fast, but she kept her face impassive. She knew it was the perfect time to do a little female bonding.
April looked around as if she were checking to make sure their conversation wouldn't be overheard. "What ever you do, don't tell," she said. "We girls have got to stick together."
Cynthia laughed. "So tell me, how long have you two been an item?"
"About a week. We tried to fight it, but what can I say. You've seen him. What girl could resist?"
Cynthia laughed. "Don't I know it. I made a play for him a couple of times myself, but he didn't seem to know I existed. I finally gave up and went for more willing prey."
"You mean that handsome man I saw you with last night,"
"Who else?"
"Well you've got to tell me all about him."
Cynthia leaned back in her chair, her expression wistful. "Nothing much to tell. His name is Nathan Stone. I haven't known him long, but I think it could work out. Who knows, maybe my luck will change and I wind up married with a couple of kids. Adopted kids of course."
"Just take it slow, Cynthia. You two haven't known each other that long."
"I know and I will. To tell the truth it makes me sort of nervous to get this involved with a guy." She looked down at her coffee. "Usually it's all about sex. It's why I like younger men—great sex. But this time. I don't know." She met April's eyes. "Maybe this time it will be more."
April touched the woman's hand. "I hope so for your sake. Just remember to take your time."
"And the same for you. Thomas finds out about your affair and you can kiss your career goodbye. Thomas makes the Hollywood blacklist look like nothing. You won't be able to find a job on the planet when he's through with you."
"I know. I heard. Strange isn't it, how the girls disappear?"
"Not really. I've known a few of the women pretty well. Some were opportunist who thought they could pull the wool over his eyes. Thomas plays it dumb, but he's sharper than people think. He found out what they were about in a heart beat and sent them packing."
April nodded knowingly. "How does he act when the relationship is over?"
Cynthia took a deep breath, and then looked at her pointedly. "Like he always does when he finds out the woman he loves isn't working out. He ranted and raved, fucked me just for the hell of it, and moved on to the next bimbo."
April pulled a face and Cynthia had the decency to look apologetic. "Sorry. Present company excluded. But that's what he does. He finds women he can mold. Me, I'm just around when he doesn't feel like looking for the next girl."
"I don't understand. Why aren't you two together? You told me you once had a relationship with him. Don't you want it again?"
Cynthia looked wistful. "Been a long time since I wanted anything with him. Now I just want the money. Lots and lots of money." Cynthia pulled a face. "Oh don't get me wrong. I know it makes me sound shallow as hell, but when you get to my age you learn quickly. It's all about the money. If he asked me to marry him, I would, but it would still be about the money."
"Still---," April started.
"Listen, honey. As long as beautiful women like you keep showing up, I don't' stand a chance. He likes 'em young. Hell, I like 'em young."
For as second, Cynthia's features darkened and April felt a chill. Just as quickly the smile returned and Cynthia was her usual cheerful self.
"Does it bother you…seeing him with other women? Seeing him with me?"
Cynthia smiled, "Hell no," she leaned closer to April. "I've seen his women come and go. As much as I like you, you'll be lucky to see the end of the year. Me…well I've got a permanent position. I get to rub shoulders with the rich and famous. He sees to my financial needs. I've got homes around the world and more money than I'll ever spend. If I were one of his women, I would be long gone by now. So no, it doesn't bother me one bit to see him with you or any other woman."
April wasn't sure she believed her. How could anyone settle for money, when the love of a man was worth so much more? One day April looked forward to having a family and spending the rest of her life with the man she loved. She could never settle for less.
Cynthia continued. "Listen, you're young. You think love and marriage is everything. But I saw my parents divorce. Watched my mother scrubbing floors to take care of us because my father wouldn't part with a dime. I don't want to end up that way. Old before my time."
Cynthia sat back in her chair, then drew out her compact and checked her makeup. She was smoothing her hair as she spoke. April was struck by how flawless the woman's skin was. She didn't have a line on her face. "One day you'll see what I mean, once every man in your life has kicked you in the teeth, left you with dreams that would never be fulfilled. With money you can buy what you want. It is the only way a woman can truly be happy."
"And if it's not enough?" April asked. "If in the end you find you really want the husband, the children?"
"Then you buy it. You buy what you want."
Cynthia's voice seemed to harden as she continued. "Nathan Stone is a beautiful man. He's also over ten years younger than me. Do you think he wants me for myself?" She shook her head. "No. He sees the power, the money, the excitement of being with a woman like me. It's an aphrodisiac. I like him enough to want a future with him, but I'm not fooling myself. He'll stick around as long as I have money."
April had to control her temper. Napoleon had spoken to her about Cynthia. She knew that he generally liked her, even felt guilty about lying to the woman. To hear Cynthia speak so callously about her friend made her see the woman in a different light. She seemed cold, calculating. In the world Cynthia lived in, people were bought and sold. She was much like her employer in that regard.
April spoke, "I only hope you will see your value one day. You're beautiful, intelligent, any man would be lucky to have you in his life."
Cynthia smiled, putting the compact away and regarding her with a condescending smile. "So young," she said. And then she stood. "I've got to go. Thomas has a ton of paperwork waiting for me. See you later." And then she was gone
Chapter Eleven
Another two weeks passed and they still hadn't found the watch. Napoleon was at the end of his patience. Now he sat at the back of the club, dancing couples and soft music surrounding him. He was going to ask for Cynthia's help. And it wasn't because he trusted her. He was a desperate man—desperate to see the case end before it cost lives. April's life. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to get around the fact that April safety was foremost on his mind. It wasn't that he failed to see the danger of the bomb; it was just that emotionally she was more important. He had to get her away from Calburn as quickly as possible and that meant trusting Cynthia Skylar.
Cynthia, the woman he had fallen quickly in lust with. The woman who'd become his lover. So much like Angelique in appearance, she nevertheless shared another trait with the Thrush spy—she was dangerous. It was a feeling that crept slowly over Solo. There was just something about her—something too deliberate about her actions. Sometimes when he looked at her, it was like looking at another person, someone who harbored dark secretes. But now she was also his only hope. They could either sit around and hope the damnable man would suddenly appear wearing the watch, spend all eternity searching for it, or find someone who was part of his inner circle.
He'd quickly eliminated using John Philip. The man simply wasn't a part of the inner circle. Most of his time was spent catering to April's needs. That left Cynthia, but no way was he planning to tell her what the watch actually held. Instead, he would tell her that they were searching for a microdot.
Now, he watched as she entered the club. She was wearing a figure-hugging silver, lamiae dress and she had the attention of nearly every man in the club. He squelched his natural response to her as she sashayed across the floor. Cynthia stood in front of him, hands placed seductively on her hips.
"Why don't we skip the drinks," she said, her voice low and deliberately sexy. "I can't wait to get you alone."
She put out her hand and Solo took it, taking a final look back as April left the stage.
The club had been officially closed over an hour ago and April couldn't wait for Calburn to leave. She had crossed the line and felt dirty because of it. It had all started innocently enough. She was alone with him and he was pawing her as usual. She could hardly give him a drug that would knock him out for at least four hours in a club that seemed to need him constantly, so she'd allowed his advances.
He looked at her as he got dressed, his eyes making her feel like a whore who'd provided a service and was waiting to be paid.
"That was good, baby," he said zipping his pants. "Just remember you're mine. I don't want nobody else to have you. You're mine. Got it baby?"
"I know," she said timidly, hating herself for saying it. "I owe you everything."
It had become a farce between them. He would tell her she was nothing and she would agree. He stood in front of the mirror straightening his tie. "Yeah, you hit the jackpot when you got me, baby. The fucking jackpot."
April moved up behind him, putting her arms around his waist, and resting her head on his back. "I'm a lucky girl, alright"
"Well, get dressed," he said, fastening his belt. "I've got to go check on a few things then we'll head out to my place. I got plans for us if you know what I mean." He pulled her into a quick embrace then headed out of the room.
April turned to look at her nude body in the mirror as if she expected to see a change in her appearance. She'd been with men before, but there was always a deep regard for them, a possibility of a future. But with Thomas there was only death. And the sex had been purely animalistic, devoid of emotions. So as she looked into the mirror, she expected to see the woman who'd allowed Thomas Calburn to touch her. The woman who'd sold her soul to the devil.
A knock at the door alerted her to Illya's presence. She knew who it was because she had been the one to tell him not to barge in until Calburn was gone. The Russian had fought her on it, but she held firm, telling him how important it was to gain Calburn's trust. At all cost. But now she was paying.
"Just a moment," she said, quickly throwing on her discarded lingerie that still lay crumpled on the floor followed by the dress.
"Come in." She stared straight ahead at her reflection as the Russian came to stand behind her. She couldn't face him, not after what had just happened.
"Are you okay?" Illya asked quietly.
But she couldn't find her voice. What she had done wasn't bad considering her motivations. He'd claimed her body, taking possession of her as if she were an object—something to be bought and sold. And she had done things that she wasn't proud of. But was it right that the rules were different for female agents? A woman was a slut if she slept with a man. A man was a playboy. It was the late 1960's and the rules were changing, but slowly. So now she stood like a woman of the Victorian era, ashamed of what she'd done, wanting to hide her face. But the man who looked back at her showed no judgment.
"I'll be fine," she said, taking her seat at the vanity table and grabbing a sponge to retouch her makeup.
"April…" Illya started.
But she couldn't bear to hear what he had to say. What was done was done and it wouldn't be the last time she might have to face making just such a decision. When it came to saving the world, or her virtue, the decision was clear. She would have to learn to put aside her feelings to get the job done.
She looked at the reflection of the blond in the mirror. He was standing near, his face a study in understanding, anger and quiet resolve for what she had suffered.
"I can't talk about it, okay?" she said, her voice unsteady.
Illya nodded his head and took a seat on the chair across the room.
"Illya," she said tentatively, looking at his reflection in the mirror. "I would rather Napoleon not know what happened here."
"You have my word," he said.
It seemed lately all she did was divide the two men, asking one to keep secrets from the other. She felt badly about this latest secret, but she couldn't bear to look into Napoleon's eyes once he knew. She simply couldn't bare it.
"Napoleon will speak with Cynthia tonight," Illya said.
April's heart beat fast. It wasn't enough. Time was running out. They had a world to save and the justice of a woman who haunted her dreams. She needed to get into Calburn's good graces. Only then would he produce the watch that they so desperately sought. Only then would he pay for his sins. But getting close to Thomas Calburn was going to require a sacrifice on her part. One that would make the activities of the evening pale in comparison. Only then could the world be saved and the mysterious woman of her dreams avenged.
0000000
Cynthia sat back on the sofa, her eyes trained on Solo. He'd just told her why he was there. Now he saw raw anger building in the woman.
"So you were using me?" she said. "Is your name even Nathan Stone?"
"No, it's Napoleon Solo and I had no choice. We need that microdot."
"Why didn't you just ask him for it? Why did you go through all…" she raised her hands, her fingers splayed. "Why all this? The seduction. You and your girlfriend pretending to be my friend. You pretending to be my lover."
"It wasn't all pretence." Solo said weakly. "Not the part about us. And April is your friend."
Cynthia stared at him. She was angry and he didn't blame her. He'd betrayed her. Lied to her about who and what he was. He was still lying, but he didn't trust her so he'd left out the part about the murders and April's psychic impressions. He also didn't tell her about Illya or Mark.
"Everything you said to me. Everything we did. Did you laugh at me with your girlfriend? Did she tell you what I said to her about the great man I just met?" Cynthia stood, her eyes blazing. "Again Cynthia finds herself a first class fool. I give my heart to a man for the first time in years. And what did you do? You're no better than Thomas."
Napoleon was shocked at the outburst. Yes, they had a relationship, but he certainly didn't think she wanted anything serious. It was just sex, plain and simple, but now she was playing the part of the wronged woman. Still, he needed her help. They were getting nowhere on their own.
He stood, reaching for her. "Don't touch me," she shouted, backing away. "Don't ever touch me again."
Her face reddened and her eyes filled with tears. "It must make you feel real good to see me like this," she snarled. "Cynthia Skylar crying over a man like some hopeless teenager. Why does this keep happening to me? Is there something wrong with me?"
Napoleon shook his head. "No, there's nothing wrong with you. I…I had no choice. We need that microdot. We need your help. Your country needs your help."
Solo put his hands on her shoulder, pulling her to face him. He saw the sadness, the pain etched on her face. He had underestimated the woman, seeing her for the tough exterior she presented. But now he realized it was all an act and he felt sorry for her
"What make you think I believe your poposturous story," she said evenly "If he has something as important as you say, just ask him for it."
"And have him use it against us? That's not an option."
"So you want me to risk everything. Everything I value, for what? Some stupid microdot."
"It's important,"
"Why is it important?" she said, soft eyes boring into his. "What is on it that would make you betray me?"
"I can't tell you. You're going to have to trust me."
"Trust you. Trust you," she said, her voice lifting "The word means nothing to you. I mean nothing to you."
Napoleon knew he had to change her mind. If he didn't she just might tell Calburn out of spite. He cupped her chin and kissed her soundly. He felt her resistance lower as she melted into the kiss.
She broke the kiss. "I won't betray him. I won't do it," she said with a quivering voice. He was getting to her.
"What he has can be very dangerous in the wrong hands," he said softly. "We need your help. Can you do that, Cynthia?"
"No."
"Do it for your country. Do it for me," he said.
"And afterwards….do you realize he could leave me with nothing. That I could wind up without a single cent if I help you?"
Solo kissed her lightly on the lips. "It's important." He nuzzled her neck. "Once this is over we can be together. Go off somewhere." He ran his hand down the length of her body and a moan escaped her lips. "Do it for me." He kissed her once again. "Do it for me."
"Okay, you've got my help," she said quietly. "But I need to know one thing. Was it all a lie? The way we were together. Was it all a lie?"
He cupped her chin, looking deeply into her emerald eyes. "Not the way I feel about you. That was never a lie."
"But how do I know? How do I know I can trust you?"
"Let me show you," he whispered. Then he lifted her from the floor and carried her to the bedroom.
0000
In the end Cynthia agreed to help him locate the watch. She had access to all his properties, including his safes and special hiding places. She promised to check all these locations—discretely, of course.
Now he leaned on the counter in the kitchen enjoying the view of Cynthia washing the dishes. It was a breathtaking tableau—the beautiful Cynthia, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing shorts and a white tee-shirt that emphasized her still girlish form. She seemed so innocent. He felt his heart warming for her again.
He came up behind her, recalling their night of passion the night before.
"You okay?" he said, nuzzling her neck.
She turned facing him. "I'm a little nervous. April's coming here and well… I don't know her. Not really."
"Nothing to know. She's nice. Very competent at what she does. She's the April you know with something extra."
Cynthia cocked her head to the side. "Did you ever sleep with her?"
He took a moment to form his answer. Technically they'd shared a bed many times on missions, or just because they needed each other. The touch of a woman was always something that appealed to him. It was why sex was so important. But with April touch was enough.
"Not in the biblical sense," he said. "Shared a bed out of necessity, yes. Never romantically."
"Can I trust you? You would tell me if…"
"I'm not going to lie to you. I've been with a lot of women, but never April. You have my word on that."
She returned to the sink. "Okay. I just needed to know. I mean…if there was something...I mean. I'm starting to fall in love with you and I don't want to be hurt. Not again."
He was about to respond when the doorbell sounded.
"Napoleon, why don't you get that? I'll be out when I finish the dishes."
It took seconds for Solo to see that something was bothering April. She avoided his eyes, focusing instead on Cynthia's apartment. He wasn't buying it. Something had happened.
"What happened?" he asked, getting to the point immediately.
April smiled, but he could see the smile was false.
"Nothing. Just tired," she looked around the apartment. "So where's Cynthia?"
"In the kitchen. Now, what's going on?" he demanded.
"I rather not talk about it. Okay."
He kept his voice low, pulling her close so that only she could hear.
"Something happened. I can see it in your eyes. I can…" he left the rest unvoiced, but he felt it to the fiber of his being.
"Not now, okay," she said, her eyes downcast.
He touched her face, his heart quickening as he saw the look in her eyes. Was it shame he saw there?
He would have pursued it further, but Cynthia came into the room, looking uncomfortably at the intimacy she saw between the two agents. Clearing her throat, she said nothing as she excused herself, returning to the kitchen.
Oh, damn, he thought. He'd spent most of the night trying to convince her that he wasn't lying and now she had misinterpreted his actions toward April.
"Go," April said.
He dashed into the kitchen and found her seething with anger.
"How could you? How could you lie to me again?" she said, her voice sharp.
"I didn't lie. You misunderstood. I was just…"
"I saw the way you looked at her. I saw the way you touched her."
"You misunderstood. There's nothing between April and I. You've got to believe me."
She turned facing him. "Why? So I can help you bury Thomas. Then what. You leave me high and dry. Go off and laugh about how foolish I was?"
He pulled her to him, but she broke from the embrace.
"Leave me with nothing but the clothes on my back." She slammed her hand down on the kitchen table. "Get out. Get out."
"Cynthia."
"Get out," she repeated.
Napoleon heard the door open and April was standing there.
"Napoleon, can you leave us alone?" April asked.
Solo ran a tired hand through his hair. He saw the fruitlessness of staying and trying to reason with the angry woman. "I'll be in the other room," he said, leaving the two women alone.
"Cynthia, look at me," April ordered once Napoleon was gone. The woman was standing at the sink, but turned, green eyes dark with anger and jealousy. April spoke, "I know what that looked like to you, but you're wrong."
"Am I?" Cynthia challenged. "I saw the way he looked at you. He's in love with you."
"No. He's my best friend. We're close, but there is nothing romantic going on. Never will be."
Cynthia harrumphed. "So you say. But I know what I saw."
April steeled herself. They needed her. Cynthia could be the key in finding the watch and putting an end to the senseless deaths of women. She needed to be honest with her. Anything less could leave them with nothing.
"Last night I slept with Thomas for the first time." She saw the look of confusion cross Cynthia's face. She continued. "I don't feel particularly good about what I've done. I've never been very good at hiding things from Napoleon. What you saw in there was him trying to find out what's wrong with me."
Cynthia said nothing. April saw the look of astonishment and something else. "But you've been here over a month. I know that you've been…"
"UNCLE has a drug," April said quickly. "I've used that up until last night."
She could see that she'd broken through, but Cynthia still didn't believe her.
"This case is important to me. The drug we use creates memories, not emotions. I need emotions to get through to him. I need for him to believe that I'm on his side. And then he'll show me what we need."
Cynthia smiled indulgently. "Do you really think whoreing yourself is worth it. That's what you're doing you know."
The words stung, but April kept her face impassive. She leveled her eyes at the woman. Even in the morning Cynthia looked perfect—every hair in place, makeup artfully applied as if Claude Monet himself had painted it. That she would be jealous of her seemed unimaginable, but she could feel it in the woman, see it in her eyes. But now wasn't the time to confront her. Cynthia could well be the only person close enough to Thomas to know where the watch had been hidden.
April made her decision. "It's more than that. Far more. You see…Thomas may have killed five women."
Cynthia shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous. Why would he kill anyone?"
"Because they rejected him. Because they weren't Sabrina Wellesley," she blurted out, and watched Cynthia's face go white. The woman leaned against the kitchen table, her hands shaking as she reached for a chair and sat. April quickly went to the sink and got a cool glass of water, giving it to the woman, and slipping into the chair adjacent to her.
"I've always suspected," Cynthia said, her voice shaky. It just seemed strange how they left." She took a sip of water.
"Cynthia, what do you know?"
"I know that Sabrina left and was never heard from again. I know that five other women disappeared in the last fifteen years."
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I needed proof. He's got connections everywhere. If I so much as said two words, my life could have been over and he still would get off Scott free."
"How long have you known?"
"I only suspected. Sabrina and I were pretty close. She would have told me if she was leaving. And the other women. They hadn't even packed their bags. I know because I've seen him throwing their clothes away. I ask you, what woman would leave and not take a single item?"
Both women sat regarding each other. Finally April spoke,
"We've got to have proof. Find out where he buried them and turn the bastard in."
"Easier said then done."
"Thomas asked me to move in with him," April blurted.
"April, do you know what you're doing. You can't just move in with him. If he is a killer…"
"Then I could be his sixth victim. But don't you see, if not me then someone else. It's my job to stop him before that happens. I'm the best qualified."
Cynthia nodded her head slowly. "You're playing a dangerous game."
"I know that. But time is running out. We need every bit of information we can get. I need Thomas to trust me. That means moving in with him and becoming a part of his life. It's well worth it to stop this monster."
"So you make him fall in love with you. Make him trust you. And then you destroy him?"
"Yes, if that's what it takes."
April tried to see beneath the layers of the woman who sat across from her.
"Is Illya a part of this?" she asked.
April thought of admitting it, but decided the less the woman knew the better.
"No, he's just the guy I'm seeing."
Cynthia looked down at her hands. "You won't be able to keep this from Napoleon. From what I saw out there he isn't going to like it. You're sleeping with the enemy, April. And he's a dangerous man."