He moved away from her, wandering over to the window with a dreamy expression on his face. "Maybe I'll rape you," he murmured. "It's the closest I'll ever get to him, and there might be some sort of vicarious thrill in it. And in knowing I've done it."
I will not panic, she told herself, her fingers clutching the sheet. Panic won't help. "You don't strike me as the sort of man who's interested in raping women."
He smiled sweetly. "I'm not. But I'm afraid I have rather a…thing…for Michael. Not reciprocated, of course. He is rather determinedly hetero. But then, life is full of disappointments, isn't it?" He shrugged. "Get your clothes on."
"Why?"
"You have an appointment."
The man didn't look crazy, even if his words seemed over the edge. Surely he could be reasoned with. "Look, Mr. Cardiff, I'm sorry if I jeopardized your mission. I want the Cadre wiped out just as much as you do, and I promise I'll stay here and keep out of the way. I won't interfere at all."
"But you don't understand, my dear." Ross patted her hand gently. "You're part of the deal."
"The deal?"
"With your sister. I don't just deliver up the British government's well-laid plans for wiping them out in return for my tidy little sum of money. I also present Caitlin Dugan with a far from virgin sacrifice to appease her family pride and bloodlust."
For a moment Francey couldn't breathe. Suddenly it all made sense. "You're a traitor."
Again he shrugged. "Every man is out for his own benefit. I'm a pragmatist. Of course, the Cadre have promised me a prominent role in the new order, but I'm not holding my breath. They'll be wiped out sooner or later, quite possibly sooner. Michael is a phenomenal agent, an absolute killing machine. He's quite beautiful in action. He might very well prevail tomorrow morning. In which case I've covered my tracks quite effectively, and while I'll enjoy giving him an official reprimand for going off on his own, I believe I'll give him an opportunity to continue the good work he does for us."
"The killing, you mean." She was numb, sick with horror.
"They don't call him the Cougar for nothing. He's quite lethal." He tapped his neatly shod little foot. "Hurry up, there's a love. Caitlin's waiting for us, and she is an impatient one."
"And if I refuse."
"Then I'll kill you in his bed, quite bloodily, and leave it to him to find you. I imagine you know he's quite foolishly sentimental where you're concerned. If you have to die—and believe me, Miss Neeley, you do have to die—then you might do your best to make it easier on the lad. After all you've meant to each other."
"You're a pig."
"Spare me. I've been called any number of creative things, and I have a very thick hide. Your choice, Miss Neeley. At my hands, or your sister's."
She closed her eyes for a moment, conjuring up Caitlin Dugan's hate-filled face. She had no hope of making her see reason. The best she could do was buy herself some time.
She wouldn't show him how frightened she was, how much she wanted to throw up. She put a bright, angry smile on her face. "I think I'm in the mood for a family reunion ," she said with false brightness.
"A wise decision," Ross Cardiff said calmly. "I never was particularly clever with my hands. Clumsiness can be so painful."
"Cardiff's here, mon." Cecil's phony Caribbean accent was still getting on his nerves, but for the first time Michael ignored it.
"Bloody hell. How did he get here so fast? I thought we had another couple of days at least."
"I'm not sure. But he was chatting up Sir Henry, and the two old biddies were getting on like a house afire."
"When was this?"
"This afternoon. He left the embassy around five, and he hasn't been seen since."
"He's not staying there?"
"That remains to be seen. At least he hasn't been anywhere near the Cadre. Everyone's holed up at the old army barracks way out on the peninsula, thinking they're bloody invisible. Stupid fools."
"What the hell is he up to?" Michael peered through the dark. His nerves were hopping beneath his skin. He always felt this way just before everything all blew to hell. He hadn't been involved in anything of this magnitude in a long time, and his instincts, his reflexes, were off. He was going to die in this one. He knew it Ml well. And he didn't really give a damn.
"Beats me," Cecil murmured. "I tell you, I was spooked as hell to hear he'd shown up. At least he's out of the way for now."
"Who says?"
"One of my contacts. He was seen driving out to the eastern end of the island just before sunset. No one lives out that way, just a few abandoned villas, and the road's not much better than a goat track. He'll probably get lost looking for the Cadre's hideout and not be seen until all the shouting's over and he can come out and take credit for it and…what's the matter, mon? You look like you've seen a ghost."