CHAPTER TWO
Greg pushed his plate away. Unlike last night when they’d eaten with others in the hotel restaurant, today’s brunch was a private affair in the penthouse. After learning the facts, Tim had chosen to speak to his lawyer before broaching the matter with Vicki, Veronica, and Jack.
“I can’t eat another bite. That has got to be the largest breakfast I’ve had in ages. I’ll have to go downstairs to the fitness center later. Mrs. Richards, our housekeeper at Haven, makes excellent meals, but this rivals anything I’ve ever had. I had two pieces of that—what did you call it—sweet potato pie?”
Vicki smiled. “It’s good, isn’t it? It’s my favorite dessert, and our chef makes it from our grandmother’s recipe. He does a great job creating tasty dishes that don’t have me gaining a hundred pounds.”
“I need some of those recipes,” Veronica joked. “I’m still carrying around an extra ten pounds of baby weight.”
“And they look good on you. I happen to love my curvy wife.”
Jack reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. Greg was amazed at the depth of love openly displayed on both their faces
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Veronica giggled and pulled her hand away.
Greg had watched the couples throughout the meal, and while he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t help being jealous of their happiness. Earlier, he’d observed them with the babies, too—each couple absolutely enraptured with their miniscule offspring and her cousin. While the twins might not look alike, he couldn’t tell one baby girl from the other. He hoped no one ever dressed the girlies alike and left them in his care.
Tim stood, and the movement dragged Greg’s attention back to the table.
“Shall we go into the den to have coffee?”
They rose, and staff materialized to clear away what was left of the meal. In the den, everyone settled quickly. Veronica and Jack on one settee, Tim and Vicki on another, Greg was surprised to see Howard sit in the rocker with one tiny girl in each arm, looking more like an indulgent grandfather than the family butler he was. From the look on the man’s face, he was in his own personal version of paradise. Greg chose an overstuffed chair and sat, waiting to add whatever information Tim required of him.
“The people who mean the most to me are all in this room,” Tim said, addressing the group. “Greg is the closest thing I had to a brother before you came into my life…”
“Why do you call him Greg?” interrupted Veronica. “Last night, you introduced him as Drew. I know his pen name is George, so where does Greg come from?”
Tim chuckled. “When my mother died, my grandfather took me to Scotland and arranged for me to attend prep school. I was miserable. The only one there who was even remotely nice to me was Greg. There were three other boys named Andrew or some variation of it. I refused to use any name for him other than his middle one as I did for myself. People considered the Robertson boys weird, and in our own way, we were.”
Greg laughed, “But you discovered rugby, and the rest his history. Everyone wanted to be your friend.”
“Well, you were a pretty mean cricket player until you gave it up,” Tim added, but the words, an echo of those spoken the previous day, seemed to sober him. “Greg needs our help. Why don’t you bring them up to speed, and remember, English, old boy, English.”
Surprised, Greg rose and began to pace. He’d expected Tim to do the talking. He hadn’t realized he’d have to bare his soul this way. He might be a writer, but there was a huge difference between putting words on paper and uttering them. He swallowed and licked his lips. Where to begin…
“It’s really quite simple. Someone is trying to kill me.”
“Kill you?” Vicki and Veronica jumped up and spoke as one.
“Why would anyone want you dead?” Vicki cried.
“I don’t know, but it’s not just me. It’s all those who are important to me—my daughter and her mother.”
“You have a daughter? Why didn’t I know that?” Veronica stared pointedly at Vicki.
“I thought you said he was single,” Veronica hissed.
Greg laughed self-consciously. “I am single. I’ve never married. Sixteen years ago, as a junior screenwriter, I had a fling with Nadia Eastman, but it didn’t last long, and we went our separate ways—something I’ll regret to the end of my days. I didn’t know Sheena was mine until the child was four. Nadia wanted money, and I wanted to see my daughter. We compromised. I got the short end of the stick, but little is better than none.”
“What do you mean?” Veronica asked, still glaring at her twin.
“Until now, I’ve only spent two weeks a year with Sheena, but it wasn’t by choice.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound fair to me,” Veronica stated loudly, her indignation obvious.
Greg swallowed. Talking about the accident was harder than he’d expected. “Six months ago, Nadia and Sheena were on their way to a reception when a van ran a red light and struck the Mercedes. The first responders were able to get Sheena out, but Nadia and the chauffeur were already dead.”
“That’s awful,” Veronica’s hands rose to cover her red cheeks. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Nadia Eastman sounds familiar,” Vicki said, ignoring her sister’s glare. “Who was she?”
“She was an actress. You’ve probably seen her on television, but she did more work in Britain and Europe than in America. You might remember her from The Secret Society. That film was nominated for an Oscar. It did well here.”
“Didn’t we go see that movie?”
Veronica cocked her head to the side. “I think so. Was the other driver killed, too?”
Greg shook his head in denial. “No. The driver fled the scene, and the authorities haven’t been able to find him, but you must understand. Nadia’s death wasn’t an accident.”
“Why do you say that? The van may have been stolen, but…” Veronica wasn’t the only one who looked perplexed.
“There was a bomb attached to the undercarriage of the car.”
Vicki and Veronica stared at him with saucer-sized eyes, their mouths agape. With similar expressions on their faces, the twins finally resembled one another. No wonder the babies looked alike.
“Someone rigged the car to explode?” Jack was on his feet in seconds.
“Yes. There was a press conference scheduled at the Russian Embassy in London. A few weeks earlier, she’d let me know she’d be bringing Sheena to me for her annual visit. Her career hadn’t been going well since her last film, and I think she hoped to get some free publicity. The press got wind of it—no doubt her agent had leaked the information. Something came up at the last minute, and I sent the limo ahead for them and called a cab for myself.”
Vicki gasped and stared at him. He could read the horror on her face.
“That’s awful. Do the police have any leads?”
“A fringe group specifically targeting Nadia’s politics tried to claim responsibility for her death. Her role in a recent IRA based movie didn’t endear her to some. Sadly, new evidence indicates it isn’t that simple.”
“That’s insane!” She turned an accusing look on her husband. “Did you know about this?”
“Not all of it, but I’ve since spoken our security teams, and they’ll be on the alert.”
“Our security?” Vicki’s voice went up an octave.
“Well, yes. If whoever is behind this knows we’re related, we could all be at risk. Words gone out to the others. I’ll keep the family safe.” There was strength in Tim’s words that reassured Greg.
“This has all the makings of a George Stanton spy novel,” Veronica added. “I don’t know London well, but isn’t the Russian Federation’s Chancery located on Kensington Palace Gardens?”
“It is. The police are toying with the idea the accident was just that and actually prevented a far greater disaster. While I’ll never forgive myself for Nadia’s death and Sheena’s injuries, had the bomb gone off in the chancery parking lot, thin
gs could have been much worse. I can’t even imagine the collateral damage it might have caused. I’m not ready to take the credit for starting another war.”
“So, if you are the target, what’s the reason?” Vicki asked.
“Graven Image is set in Afghanistan during the Soviet invasion,” Veronica nodded. “It’s an excellent book, one of your best, but you were very critical of the rebels in the novel—that can’t have made you too popular with some of the more militant factions over there.”
“It hasn’t. I had my doubts about the press conference, but my agent had set it up to announce the filming, and since a lot of the movie will be shot on Russian soil, the Kremlin was eager to be part of the announcement.”
“You think someone is trying to kill you because of that novel?” Howard asked quietly. The babies were asleep in his arms, but he continued to rock gently.
“I do and I don’t,” he answered, running his hands through his hair and dislodging the tie that fell unnoticed to the floor. “That’s what’s most frustrating. I’m not convinced this is political, although the authorities seem to think so.”
“If it’s not political, then what? Why blow up your car?” Jack asked.
Greg sighed heavily. “Payback—revenge for something I may have done, something I don’t remember. But I’m beginning to think it could be about money. Greed, pure and simple. If I’d been in the car, as I was supposed to be, and had been killed on Russian soil, the publicity would have been tremendous. As it is, since my connection to Nadia—not the real relationship, just speculation we might have been dating—was made public, my book sales have tripled. Luckily, we managed to keep Sheena’s presence in the car out of the press.”
Jack whistled. “Considering the book’s been on the New York best seller list for over a year, that’s a lot of money.”
Greg ran his hand through his hair. “It is, and the press has had a field day speculating about terrorists. The movie has attracted a lot of new investors, and the Hollywood gossip is that it’ll be a box office success. A lot of people stand to get rich if I die without an heir—even richer if I die in some flamboyant way. Imagine the possibilities from the film’s revenue alone.”
“What do you mean?” Veronica and Vicki spoke in unison once more.
“It’s clear someone knows who I really am and knows the truth about Nadia and Sheena. If I die without an heir, while most of my fortune will revert to the family, all of my revenue directly related to my writing goes to my agent and publisher.”
Jack frowned and grunted. “Do you think it’s someone in the family looking for a bigger share?”
“No, I don’t. Besides, the police have checked that aspect and found nothing. If money is the goal, it has to be someone who stands to profit from my death who isn’t getting much from me alive. That’s the only thing that makes sense. With an heir, forty percent of my literary gains go to my publisher and agent. Without an heir, all revenue from the movie and all of my books reverts to them.”
Jack shook his head. “That’s the problem with you celebrities. Someone always wants to get a piece of your pie. You might as well have painted a target on your back. You’re too attractive dead.”
Greg grimaced. “Unfortunately, that’s true, but painting a target on George Stanton’s back is one thing, painting it on my daughter is quite a different story.”
“So, what do you want from us?” Jack’s voice was determined, showing Greg whatever it was he wanted, it was his for the asking.
Greg relaxed. “I need you to help me keep my daughter safe.”
“How?”
“Sheena’s a world class skier, but she was badly injured in the accident. While she’s recovered well, there’ve been a lot of changes for her. I want to give her the opportunity to ski competitively again, meet new people, and make new friendships. I want to give her back her dream, and this is where I need your help, but with a maniac after me, it will be dangerous.”
Lord, if you’d like to give me the words to convince them to help me, it would be grand. The prayer would probably fall on deaf ears, but he couldn’t help uttering it. He wasn’t asking for himself. Sheena was just a child, and wasn’t God partial to helping children?
He took a deep breath and renewed his pacing. “I want to send her to ski trials in late January in Vermont—give her a chance to train with others. Her injuries have given her a new face, but she’ll need a false identity and an undercover bodyguard who can ski. I know I’m asking a lot, and you may not know someone who can handle that challenge, but that’s not all.”
“Go on.” Jack prodded.
Greg glanced at Tim who nodded.
“Although my daughter hates me at the moment, I won’t let her go anywhere without me. Tim is going to let me use one of his former identities … that is if you agree.” He looked pointedly at Vicki who scowled, and Greg read the uncertainty on her face.
Veronica stood up, seemingly oblivious to her twin’s inner agony. She clapped her hands and turned to her husband. “And I know exactly who can help. Livy’s perfect for this job, and you know it.”
Vicki smiled at her sister, all uncertainty gone. “You’re right, but she has to know the truth, Tim—all of it.”
“Who’s Livy?” Greg asked.
“Leave everything to us,” Veronica said, ignoring his question and the look of doubt on her husband’s face. “You’ll love Livy. She’s great, you’ll see. When will Sheena arrive?”
“I’ve arranged for her to see an orthopedic surgeon at Johns Hopkins just after Christmas. I was hoping I could leave her with Tim until it’s time for trials. I have to go to L.A. and Nevada to consult on the screenplay, otherwise I’d stay with her.”
“That won’t do,” said Veronica. “Vicki has the New Year’s preparations to make, but we’ll keep her safe. She can come to stay with Jack and me in Philly. They have a fully functional gym at the agency, and she’d certainly be safe surrounded by bodyguards. We have lots of room.”
“It sounds ideal, if you’re sure it isn’t too much bother.”
“No bother at all. I’d love to spend time with her before you and Livy whisk her away. Lexi is great company,” she smiled at her four-month-old asleep in Howard’s arms, “but not much of a conversationalist.”
Greg nodded and swallowed the lump of gratitude threatening to choke him. He’d never met people like these and silently thanked God for them.
“I’m leaving for Edinburg in two days. Tim’s arranged for Sheena to travel back to America on the corporate jet. I’ll be back in two weeks. Will that give you enough time to make arrangements with this Livy?” he asked Jack.
Before he could answer, the twins spoke as one again. “That’s lots of time. We’ll see you then.”
Vicki smiled. “Now, who wants to watch, It’s a Wonderful Life?”
Greg noted the smug, satisfied looks on the faces of the twins and the resigned look on Jack’s face, and wondered what he’d gotten himself into.