The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [48]
“You mean a spy,” she whispered, a thrill of fear making her voice tremble. It had felt so different when she had said those same words to Cal. He was a friend; now she was negotiating with “the enemy.”
Valentin sat back with a shrug. After summoning the waiter to bring coffee and more brandy he said in a matter-of-fact tone, “I believe that would be a very melodramatic description.”
Genie licked her lips. This was the power of the Soviet Unión she was messing with, and she had heard enough stories of people who just “disappeared” to make her think twice. But she had to find out It meant everything, not only to Cal and her country but to her.
“Well, if you really need someone,” she said, running a nervous hand through her blond hair, “maybe I could find out what you want.”
“And what exactly is it I want?” he asked, leaning back against the pink-striped sofa cushions and smiling. “Can you read my mind, Miss Reese?”
“You need to know who bought the emerald.”
He waited until the waiter had served their coffee. “And don’t you want to know why we want to find out?”
“I already do; you want to find the ‘Lady’ so Russia can get the money.”
His gray eyes were suddenly remote as he said, “And if that was true, are you not worried about what will happen to her when we do?”
Genie knew it was the billion-dollar question, but sitting here alone by the fire with Valentin Solovsky, Russia suddenly seemed as far away as another planet. It was down to basics, a woman and a man, and somehow she knew she could trust him. “I know you would not let her come to any harm,” she said softly.
Valentin nodded. “You are a good judge of character, Miss Reese.” He smiled as he took her hand. “I take it we can shake hands on the deal?” She nodded and he said, “Then the first question I am going to ask you is, Are you working with Cal Warrender?”
She felt the telltale blush rising in her cheeks as she said, too quickly, “Cal? Of course not. We are old friends … the same Washington social circuit, you know.”
He nodded. “And now will you tell me who bought the emerald?”
She glanced at him warily. “Have we not already agreed to trust each other?” he asked. “I am a man of my word, Genie. You will have the exclusive story.”
He took her hand again, gripping it tightly, and she thought they were not the smooth, too-soft hands of a desk-bound man; they felt hard and slightly rough. After taking a deep breath, she said, “This is probably not exactly the answer you expected. The emerald was bought by a dealer in Düsseldorf. His name is Markheim.”
“Markheim?” Solovsky frowned, puzzled, then his brow cleared suddenly. “Of course, now I understand.” His smile was so dazzling that she smiled back. “You see, Genie, you have already been of help. And now I’ll tell you how you can help me.”
Lying back in her seat as the aircraft circled Düsseldorfs airport, Genie thought of what she was going to do. It all seemed easy enough. Of course Valentin hadn’t mentioned the other “secret” everybody was after, the thing Russia really wanted, but she knew about the money. Then when Valentin had told her whom she was to contact, all of a sudden things made sense. She grinned as she thought of what Cal would say if he knew what she was up to, but she had skipped out at the crack of dawn, deliberately missing their nine o’clock rendezvous. The romantic storm-tossed night was gone and in the cold light of day she had realized that the story was turning out to be bigger than she had thought. She was going to play this game her own way, and if she was clever enough she would find out the truth. And then she would be sure to have the exclusive.
The lobby of the hotel