Eve - Iris Johansen [67]
“And does that mean I can’t call him?”
“It might complicate things. You can join me for dinner in an hour, and we’ll talk some more. Or you can stay in your room, and I’ll come to you.”
Another stone wall.
“Who is this Bill Hanks?”
“He’s my head of security, companion, chess partner, whatever. His job description is ‘as designated.’” He stopped at the door. “But he’s very loyal. You’ll not be able to convince him to help you leave until I give the order to let you go.”
“I’ll find a way when I’m ready.” She stared him in the eye. “And that’s not yet. You haven’t answered any of my questions.”
“I answered the important one. You’re just not sure you believe me.”
“The only way I can start to do that is to know more about you. I didn’t have spies, peering behind bushes and invading my daughter’s gallery shows. We have to be even.”
“You always insisted on that.” He opened the door. “I’ll answer everything I can. Feel free to ask Bill anything you like. I’ll tell him that he’s not to feel he has to protect me. It goes with the territory with him. He’s been with me a long time.”
She hesitated. “In Korea?”
“Only the last part of my stay in that fine hotel. That’s why I trust him. He avoided the final indignity.” He smiled. “He’s not crazy like me.”
She stared at the door as it closed behind him. She was as confused and frustrated as she’d been when wakened a little while ago. She had to know more, dammit. He was holding out bits of information like carrots before a donkey.
But he had said that it had not been he who had killed her Bonnie. It might be foolish to follow her instincts and believe him, but it was happening.
And she was profoundly grateful. That would have been the ultimate horror.
But he might still have been involved in some way. She had to find out. She had to know what he knew.
“Ms. Duncan?” A short, stocky man was standing in the doorway. He was fiftyish, with short sandy hair and pale blue eyes. “I’m Bill Hanks.” His smile was warm and broad. “May I take you to your room? John said you’d like to freshen up.”
Eve got to her feet. No dizziness. No aftereffects from the sedative. John had spoken the truth. “Thank you. How courteous of him. After a kidnapping, it’s always nice to have TLC.”
Hanks chuckled. “I imagine it’s difficult to compare kidnappings, but this one is top-grade. John insisted that we do it right. It wasn’t easy. We knew from Queen’s reports that you were expecting the FedEx skull, but FedEx is a very efficient company. It was dicey stealing that truck from the lot when John decided he wanted to move quickly.”
“Queen was monitoring my activities that closely?”
“If he hadn’t been, John wouldn’t have been pleased. Queen doesn’t like to displease John.” He stepped aside and gestured for her to precede him into the hall. “It usually has repercussions.”
“What kind of repercussions?”
“Unpleasant,” Hanks said vaguely.
So Hanks wasn’t going to be entirely frank with her after all. She’d have to push until she hit a wall, then keep on pushing.
Hanks indicated a painting on the wall. “John said you’d want to see the painting. It’s pretty good, isn’t it?”
And it was definitely one of Jane’s. Though she recognized the brushstrokes and technique, it wasn’t a painting with which Eve was familiar. It was a forest wreathed thickly in mists, and it was both mysterious and terribly lonely. “Very good.”
“She called it Lost,” Hanks said. “John said that she got it right.” He was leading her down the shining cherrywood-paneled hall. “I think he would have bought it even if it hadn’t been painted by your daughter. He said you adopted her when she was ten?”
“Or she adopted me. We’ve never been entirely sure how it came about.”
“She’s very young to be so successful.”
“Yes.” She added deliberately, “But it’s not Jane I want to talk about.” She glanced around the hall. “This is quite a place. Luxurious. John Gallo has money now?”
Hanks nodded. “He always says that money has more power than an AK-47. He