The Target

you."

    "Oh no," Louey said and sat up, pulling the sheet to his waist. "When did the old man call? What did he want?"

    "It was actually a man who said he was calling for Mr. Lord. He said he didn't need to speak to you. He said that your daughter is safe again, with Mr. Lord, at his house. That was all."

    Rudy Brinker watched one of the most talented men in the world lower his head in his hands. He looked sad, broken. But his voice, when he spoke, was vicious. Rudy listened to him curse for a good thirty seconds. Then he quietly let himself out of Mr. Santera's room. He went down the hall to Mr. Murdock's room and knocked twice.

    The ugliest man Rudy had ever seen answered the knock.

14

    MASON LORD SWIRLED the rich golden brandy in the Waterford snifter, watching it lightly veil the sides of the glass. It was magnificent brandy, coating his tongue and his throat as well when he swallowed. He allowed himself one snifter at night, an hour after dinner.

    Eve was sitting on the sofa, watching television. He thought it was an idiotic show like Wheel of Fortune, only worse. Although he'd felt contempt for her taste even before he'd married her, he hadn't felt anything but lust for her body, and in his way of thinking, contempt couldn't begin to catch up with lust.

    She looked up. It must be a commercial. "What are you going to do with them, Mason?"

    He took the last drink of his brandy, carefully set the snifter down on a marble-topped side table, then said slowly, "I wanted them to come here. You heard me tell Molly when she called that she was to come here."

    "Yes, so she listened to you."

    "But she didn't want to. It was the man. It was Ramsey Hunt." He looked at the gold Rolex on his wrist. "He said

    he would come down to speak to me. Miles told him he wasn't to bring Molly."

    "When did he say that?"

    "Miles told him what he had to do if he wanted my protection. He'll do as I ask. He knows he needs me." He streaked his long fingers through his hair. Eve stared at him. She'd never seen him do that. "What's wrong?"

    "She needs to be controlled. The way she spoke to me. I nearly struck her, Eve."

    "But you didn't. When she threatened to leave, you backed off and told her what she wanted to hear-that you wanted to know what she had to say as well as this Ramsey Hunt." Eve paused a moment. The show was coming back on. Then she said, "You flattered her and she fell for it. You did control her, Mason."

    "No," he said, "really, she didn't fall for anything. She's scared for her daughter. She'd make a deal with the devil to keep her daughter safe, even if the devil is me." But he knew if he hadn't backed off, she'd have been out of there, and that man would have gone with her. She had to be sleeping with him, to have him so pussy whipped. He looked at his wife. She'd turned back to her game show. He walked to the door of the immense living room and quietly opened the beautiful French doors that gave onto a walled-in, quite lovely English garden. The air was soft, redolent with the intermingling scents of hyacinths, roses, and star jasmine. The jasmine he'd selected himself for the garden. There were no sounds to break the quiet. Very few people knew that half a dozen men were stationed in and around the house. As soon as Molly, Emma, and Ramsey Hunt had arrived, he'd added more guards. He turned to see Miles coming from across the hall, toward him.

    "Emma liked the spaghetti I made for her," he said. "The pasta was shaped like Jurassic Park dinosaurs."

    Mason Lord could only stare at a man who'd been loyal only to him, at his beck and call only, for twenty-two years. He'd begun here when Molly was a little girl, but he'd never

    paid her much attention. Why Emma? Sure she was pretty, she was the very picture of Alicia, but so what? He'd never paid any attention to Alicia either.

    He saw Ramsey Hunt coming down the wide staircase to his right. He was dressed well in black slacks and a white shirt. No tie, but that was all right. They'd been on the run. He called to him, "Did you deal with Molly?"

    "Yes."

    "You told her how she was to behave in my house?"

    Ramsey wanted to laugh at the heavy-handed tactics. He just smiled. "She knows exactly what to do. Now, I hear from Miles that you want to speak to me."

    "Yes, but just you, not Molly. She doesn't understand either business or strategy."

    "Last I knew, Molly was in her bedroom, giving Emma another reading lesson. The kid's really bright."

    "I read Moby