Acquainted With the Night (9781101546000) by Piper Maitland Page B

justified.” Velikov paused. “Considering the brutal way your uncle was murdered.”
    Brutal? The word slammed inside her head, and she stiffened. A Bulgarian would not use this word casually. The Ottomans had slaughtered them in the fourteenth century and, even today, a good part of Kardzhali was Muslim.
    â€œPerhaps I have spoken out of turn,” Velikov said.
    â€œSomeone needs to.” She stared into her glass. “They didn’t beat him, did they?”
    He nodded. No.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œThe cause of death was exsanguination,” said Velikov. “That means—”
    â€œI know the term. Uncle Nigel took a blood thinner for his heart.”
    â€œI hesitate to continue. It is not for the faint of stomach.”
    â€œI need to know.”
    â€œThis was more than a robbery. Your uncle was tortured. Both Achilles tendons were severed. And he was bitten.”
    â€œDid you say bitten ?” She abruptly set her glass on the table, and the wine swayed.
    â€œYes.” Velikov shook his head.
    â€œBy an animal?”
    He shook his head. Yes. “And human.”
    No. Not possible. She rose abruptly and her knee hit the table. The wineglass tipped over, spilling Mavrud across the glossy surface, red drops pattering to the floor.

CHAPTER 8
    WILKERSON PHARMACEUTICALS
EAST LONDON, ENGLAND
    Â 
    Moose Tipper sat at the far end of the mirrored conference table, its surface reflecting lights from nearby buildings. Wilkerson stood in front of the broad glass window, his hands clasped behind his back. The Thames stretched out in front of him, black and twisty.
    â€œHow did you bungle it this time?” Wilkerson asked.
    â€œIt went tits up,” Moose said, but he was thinking that Wilkerson was absolutely wet. And, he wasn’t immortal.
    â€œWhat happened?” Wilkerson turned.
    â€œI already told you.” Moose extended his hand and pointed to the purple bite marks. “I didn’t make a total bollocks of it. I got the samples. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
    â€œHave you looked at a newspaper?” Wilkerson leaned forward, his reflection moving along the mirror. “Listened to the news?”
    â€œI don’t watch the telly. It’s too horrid.” Moose brought his hands together, tapping each finger, right to left, left to right. Ten times. Perfect. When he noticed that Wilkerson was staring, Moose made a fist and slammed it against the table. “I got your fucking samples.”
    Wilkerson flinched.
    â€œDidn’t break it.” Moose lifted his hand. The imprint of his fist had left a smudge on the mirror. He had heard that Wilkerson was sent down from Cambridge. Disgraced his family.
    â€œYou got the tissue samples, all right.” Wilkerson paused. “From the wrong woman.”
    Moose narrowed one eye. “Say what?”
    â€œThe woman you murdered wasn’t Caroline Clifford. You killed her flatmate. The girl’s father was Sir Edmund Dowell.”
    â€œNever heard of him.” Moose shrugged.
    â€œHe’s the Lord Speaker in the House of Lords.”
    â€œOh, that Dowell,” Moose said, trying not to roll his eyes.
    â€œScotland Yard is crawling all over her flat.”
    â€œBut you never said the Clifford girl had a roomie. I assumed—”
    â€œI don’t pay you to make assumptions. I pay you to complete a task. Wilkerson Pharmaceuticals is a billion-dollar corporation, and the cosmetics division will surpass that. I will not see this corporation destroyed by a blood sipper.”
    â€œI don’t sip it, mate. I’m brilliant at what I do. You know I am. The situation isn’t a total cock-up. I just killed the wrong girl. Tell me where to find the right one, and I’ll bring her back.” Moose clenched his fists, repressing an urge to straighten the pencils on Wilkerson’s desk.
    â€œIt’s too late,” Wilkerson said. “I