Countdown - Iris Johansen [38]
No, what was he thinking? Fools and weaklings relied on chance. He’d think and plan and make his own opportunity. If he couldn’t make a direct assault on the woman, then he’d circle around and try to come at Trevor from another angle.
But Reilly wasn’t going to see it that way. He was only interested in getting the gold and Jane MacGuire. Crazy bastard. He sat there in his compound fat and arrogant as a Siamese cat giving orders and telling Grozak what to do.
And he had to do it, dammit.
He glanced at the calendar on his desk. December 8. Fourteen days left until the deadline Reilly had given him of December 22. Could he delay the operation if Reilly didn’t come through on time?
No, everything was in motion. Bribes in place. The explosives on their way from the Middle East. It was his big chance and he’d be damned if he’d let it slip through his fingers. Reilly had told Grozak outright that if he couldn’t produce he’d deal with Trevor and leave Grozak with nothing.
It wasn’t going to happen. Everyone had a weak spot, and Reilly’s was his love of power and his obsession with Cira’s gold. If Grozak could tap those weaknesses, then he’d be the one with power over Reilly.
But to do it he had to have Jane MacGuire.
Thank God, he had an alternate plan in mind to pull the rug out from under Trevor. But he was done with using incompetents like Leonard. He needed someone who had nerve, someone with brains enough to follow orders.
Wickman. He’d never met a colder human being, and Wickman would do anything if the price was right. Grozak would make sure it was. He had no choice with Reilly breathing down his neck.
Time was running out.
Did you enjoy the casserole?”
Jane turned away from laughing at something Mario had said to see Trevor’s gaze on her. He had been watching her all through the meal, she thought in exasperation. Every time she’d looked up she’d encountered that critical stare. It was like being under a microscope.
“What’s not to like? It was very tasty,” she said as she leaned back in her chair. “Who cooked it?”
“I did.” Brenner grinned. “My talents as a cook have grown by leaps and bounds since I took this job. Trevor never mentioned that as part of the job description.” He glanced slyly at Trevor. “Maybe I’ve gotten too good. I’ve been tempted to serve up a little snake stew on my next cook day.”
“You’ll get no quarrel from me,” Trevor said. “As long as you eat it too. I don’t think you will. As I recall, when there were times we had nothing to eat in Colombia but what we could hunt and gather, I was able to stomach the more exotic fare better than you.” He smiled. “Do you remember when García brought in that python?”
Brenner made a face. “I could have eaten it, but when I saw what was in its stomach I decided I wasn’t that hungry.”
There was a bond of companionship between the two men that was almost visible, Jane thought. She had never seen this side of Trevor. He seemed less guarded. Younger . . .
“I don’t think that’s a discussion for the dinner table,” Mario said with a frown. “Jane will think we’re barbarians.”
“And we aren’t?” Trevor asked with lifted brows. “You and Bartlett are civilized, but Brenner and I have a tendency to slip back into the jungle occasionally.” But he nodded and said to Jane, “He’s absolutely right. My apologies if our crudeness offended you.”
“You didn’t offend me.”
Trevor turned to Mario with a smile. “You see? You didn’t need to be defensive. She’s no delicate flower.”
“But she’s a lady.” Mario was still frowning. “And she should be treated with respect.”
Trevor’s smile faded. “Are you telling me how to treat our guest, Mario?”
“I’ll get the coffee,” Brenner said as he quickly got to his feet. “No dessert, but there’s a cheese tray. Come help me bring it in, Bartlett.”
Bartlett’s glance went from Trevor to Mario. “Maybe I should stay and—” Then he shrugged, rose to his feet, and followed Brenner from the room.
“You didn’t answer me, Mario,” Trevor said.
Mario stiffened as he caught the underlying menace beneath the softness