Double Take - Catherine Coulter [93]
They made themselves as comfortable as they could on the silk cushions. Cheney could feel Julia had tightened, probably because she was thinking about her son, but she said nothing.
“I would have thought your aura would once again be chaotic from what I heard on the news today, but it’s not. The reporter said you were with an FBI agent in a mad car chase all the way to the beach. But you survived. I’m pleased about that. Oh, I see. The little drama was well staged even though I only saw the back of you when you climbed into a police car. I myself found it very effective. If there are people who believe you murdered August, that incident will turn the tide. You looked quite heroic.”
“You don’t think I killed August, do you, Mr. Meissen?”
CHAPTER 44
Soldan Meissen drew deeply on his pipe, then carefully laid it down again. He frowned at his toes and tucked his feet beneath his silk robe. He built the tension around him with superb skill. He said, "To kill a man such as August Ransom would require, I believe, a phenomenal degree of enmity, the result, I would think, of a steadily building rage. I see no signs of such a rage in your aura.”
Julia only smiled. “What you saw on TV today was not staged. The man who chased us was the same one who tried to kill me on Thursday and Saturday night. His name is Xavier Makepeace.”
“Hmm,” Soldan said, holding the tube between his long thin fingers again and sucking in deeply. He whispered, his eyes now closed, “Did this man also kill my poor August?”
“It’s possible,” Cheney said. He waited until Soldan opened his eyes, then showed him his shield, and offered his hand, but Soldan ignored it. He drew again on his hookah.
Ancilla said to Cheney, “I’ll bet you were the one who couldn’t abide August, or at least your fed bosses couldn’t, and you murdered the poor man. Or had your partners do it. That’s why he’s trying to kill you, no honor among assassins.”
“That’s a pretty good theory,” Cheney said, cocking his head at her.
Julia said, “No, Agent Stone didn’t kill my husband.”
“Hah, so you say. But you’re consorting with a federal assassin, aren’t you? Who can believe you?”
“Neither you nor your sister are what I expected, sir,” Cheney said, looking around at the violent, eye-crossing array of colors and exotic fabrics that filled the smallish room, mixing in with the gently outward floating hashish smoke from the hookah. There was no furniture, no books, no attempt to instill confidence that this man could speak to the dead. Huge silk pillows, and fabrics, not much else. Soldan Meissen reminded him of an emaciated long-ago pasha in Istanbul, quite at home at the Topkapi Palace. But Cheney doubted he’d have much interest in a harem.
Soldan ignored Cheney, stared at his bare toes again, and frowned. “I must have a pedicure, Ancilla. Make a note of it.”
“Yes, Sol,” Ancilla said, pulled a pen and small pad from her bosom and wrote on it.
“She is not my sister. She is my assistant.”
“But I look like his younger sister,” Ancilla said and fluffed her long hair.
“Do you like the table? It’s Japanese, you know. I acquired it recently from one of those automobile moguls in Tokyo. Isn’t it exquisite? I had it lacquered crimson. It was a very dark blue before, clashed with my spirit, dimmed my connection to The Beyond .”
"The Beyond?” Cheney said, eyebrow arched.
“That can hardly surprise you, Agent Stone. Yes, that is what I call it. The Beyond.” He offered Julia his hookah pipe. “Would you like to try some of my delicious Asian delight?”
Julia shook her head. “Not this evening. I fear it might disrupt my aura.”
“What would you say if I were to arrest you for doing drugs, Soldan?”
“You are an assassin, not a vice cop. You are also not very amusing.”
“He tried to be funny with me too, Sol,” Ancilla said. “But I told him he wasn’t.”
Cheney said suddenly, without preamble, “I understand that after Dr. Ransom was murdered you became the medium for Mr. Thomas