Midnight Jewels

again. "I've noticed."
    "I don't like the fact that things went wrong that first night at the motel. Somehow Falconer got the book out of the safe before Dallas could get it. And I don't like the fact that you discovered Falconer and Mercy in the garden last night. Too close to the vault. But most of all, I don't like the fact that you haven't been able to trace Falconer."
    "I know," Isobel agreed quietly. "I should have been able to find out more about him by now."
    "Precisely. Given me facts and the suspicious lack of information, I think it's better to get rid of the man."
    "And Miss Pennington?"
    Gladstone made a dismissing gesture with his hand. "I insisted she make the trip here with the book so that I would have an opportunity to evaluate her and decide just how much she knows. There was always the possibility that she had learned of the real value of
Valley
and was setting a trap or planning to work a blackmail scheme. If such were me case I knew it would be far easier to get rid of her here than in her own territory. But it's clear she's nothing more than what she appears to be. A naive little twit. Still, if Falconer is more than he appears, it would probably be best if Miss Pennington eventually suffered a fatal accident, too. I want nothing and no one around who can follow the trail of
Valley
back to me."
    Isobel inhaled deeply, wondering again what it was going to be like to kill for Gladstone. She told herself she was committed now. With cool logic she had made up her mind to pursue this path and she would not quit. All her training had been focused on making her into the perfect female mercenary, the perfect security consultant for a wealthy, powerful man. She would not balk at the first kill. This was the route to the power she wanted. Someday, if her plans were fulfilled, she would be the one hiring people to do her dirty work.
    But the peculiar dread she was feeling alarmed her. There was no doubt that it would be easier on her if she could avoid the necessity of having to get rid of Falconer and the woman. Logically it would be safer, too. Deaths always brought questions, and questions always left one vulnerable.
    "If Miss Pennington is that silly and naive, then you might be able to get her to tell you something about Falconer. We might be able to verify just how dangerous he is before we act. I've seen your skill with hypnosis."
    Gladstone smiled. "That's a thought. It would be interesting to know more about him, even though we're going to get rid of him soon. Knowledge is always useful. It would be interesting to know, for example, if he was in the employ of someone else or working for himself." He paused, thinking it over. "You're right, my dear. I'd better have a little chat with Miss- Pennington and I'd better do it this afternoon. You'll have to provide a distraction for Falconer."
    "I don't think that will be a problem," Isobel said smoothly. "Lance mentioned that Miss Pennington has a horror of small aircraft. Falconer, on the other hand, seems like the kind of man who would find a helicopter flight around the vicinity interesting."
    Gladstone's blue eyes were unreadable. "I shall rely on you, my dear, to set up an entertaining afternoon for both of us."
    Isobel glanced out the window again. Perhaps if Gladstone satisfied himself that Falconer was harmless he could be talked out of arranging the "accidents" he had planned for Croft and Mercy.
    But regardless of the outcome of Gladstone's chat with Mercy, Isobel told herself, she would do what she had to in order to insure her own future.
    There was a first time for everything, including killing.

    Shortly after lunch Mercy stood at the huge plate glass window in the living room and watched Isobel Ascanius lift the small helicopter off its pad and point it toward the south. Croft was sitting beside Isobel in the passenger seat. He didn't bother to look back and wave at Mercy.
    Somehow it didn't come as any great surprise to discover that Isobel was Gladstone's pilot. The woman looked like she could handle anything.
    Mercy still wasn't quite certain how she and Croft had gotten separated, but she suspected it was all Isobel's idea. As the other woman had climbed into the cockpit she had looked quite competent and dashing in her multi-pocketed khaki flight togs, leather boots and mirrored sunglasses.
    The invitation to take an aerial tour of the region had been issued over a lunch of cold poached salmon and chilled asparagus with hollandaise.