governmental agency can handle?”
Grace looked into Steele’s clear eyes, metallic blue, deep. She saw intense intelligence and something more. Unflinching ruthlessness, if her CIA file was accurate. His natural coloring was pale, made more so because he had a full head of silver-white hair. His face was handsome in an aristocratic way, with a prominent nose that might have been called a beak on a less civilized, less patrician man.
“You said it was a matter of some urgency?” Steele asked, his voice still soft, gentle, and definitely prodding.
Grace had rehearsed her presentation while she waited for the nameless driver to pick her up. It took less than three minutes to bring the head of St. Kilda Consulting up to speed on Lane.
“Admirably concise, much more so than I would expect from a lawyer,” Steele said. “What do you want from St. Kilda?”
“My son. Alive, well, and in the United States.”
“Again, concise. How much money has gone missing?”
“Calderón wasn’t sure. He said Hector had somewhere between fifty and one hundred million in the fund, some of it his own money, some of it invested for others.”
Steele looked like a man making mental notes. “Unless the Rivas-Osuna crime family has had an unusually profitable year, some of that must have come from people outside of the family.”
“Jaime—Hector’s nephew—would be the one selling the fund outside of the family. He’s the one that roped Calderón in.” Then the implication of Steele’s words sank in. “You sound like you know quite a bit about ROG.”
“Drugs are a substantial part of the billions in black money that rollsaround the globe every hour. Illegal arms dealing is another chunk. Corrupt, legally constituted governments are responsible for the majority.”
Although Steele hadn’t emphasized the words legally constituted, Grace got the point.
“I know,” she said. “Legal doesn’t always make it right. But it’s better than the opposite, violence and anarchy.”
Steele nodded. “On that we agree. You’ve explained your son’s situation and your own desires. What of your husband?”
“Ex-husband. We’ve been separated—a personal rather than a legal state—for some time. The divorce was final a few weeks ago.”
“Does Hector know this?”
“I told him. He still thinks I know or can find out where Ted is.”
“Can you?”
“If I could, I wouldn’t be here. Ted and I may share an address in La Jolla, but he hasn’t spent three consecutive days there in years. Other than an e-mail or two, and a voice mail, I haven’t heard from him in three weeks.”
“Did any of the communications suggest he was in difficulty?” Steele asked.
“No.”
“Was the divorce adversarial?”
“No. We’re adults and we behaved like it.”
Steele lifted his eyebrows. “Could Hector be your ex-husband’s stalking horse?”
Grace frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“You say the divorce was amicable—”
“It was.”
Steele ignored the interruption. “—yet you’re a beautiful woman in the prime of life, with a very successful career and a brilliant legal future. Quite a catch by any measure, whether it be physical, intellectual, or social.”
She blinked, surprised by his summary. “I don’t see myself that way.”
Steele’s smile was a lot younger than he was. “I know. It’s part of your allure. By nature men are possessive creatures. Losing you must have stung. Ted wouldn’t be the first divorced man to get even with an ex-wife through a child. Revenge isn’t a pretty emotion, but it’s very powerful.”
Grace looked at her hands. Her nails were short, well kept, businesslike, naked of polish. Hardly the hands of a femme fatale. And if Ted had been hurt by the divorce, he sure never showed it.
Looking back, their marriage had died long before the divorce legally buried it.
“Does it matter why Ted did what he did?” she asked finally.
“It might. Revenge can be a more
Grace looked into Steele’s clear eyes, metallic blue, deep. She saw intense intelligence and something more. Unflinching ruthlessness, if her CIA file was accurate. His natural coloring was pale, made more so because he had a full head of silver-white hair. His face was handsome in an aristocratic way, with a prominent nose that might have been called a beak on a less civilized, less patrician man.
“You said it was a matter of some urgency?” Steele asked, his voice still soft, gentle, and definitely prodding.
Grace had rehearsed her presentation while she waited for the nameless driver to pick her up. It took less than three minutes to bring the head of St. Kilda Consulting up to speed on Lane.
“Admirably concise, much more so than I would expect from a lawyer,” Steele said. “What do you want from St. Kilda?”
“My son. Alive, well, and in the United States.”
“Again, concise. How much money has gone missing?”
“Calderón wasn’t sure. He said Hector had somewhere between fifty and one hundred million in the fund, some of it his own money, some of it invested for others.”
Steele looked like a man making mental notes. “Unless the Rivas-Osuna crime family has had an unusually profitable year, some of that must have come from people outside of the family.”
“Jaime—Hector’s nephew—would be the one selling the fund outside of the family. He’s the one that roped Calderón in.” Then the implication of Steele’s words sank in. “You sound like you know quite a bit about ROG.”
“Drugs are a substantial part of the billions in black money that rollsaround the globe every hour. Illegal arms dealing is another chunk. Corrupt, legally constituted governments are responsible for the majority.”
Although Steele hadn’t emphasized the words legally constituted, Grace got the point.
“I know,” she said. “Legal doesn’t always make it right. But it’s better than the opposite, violence and anarchy.”
Steele nodded. “On that we agree. You’ve explained your son’s situation and your own desires. What of your husband?”
“Ex-husband. We’ve been separated—a personal rather than a legal state—for some time. The divorce was final a few weeks ago.”
“Does Hector know this?”
“I told him. He still thinks I know or can find out where Ted is.”
“Can you?”
“If I could, I wouldn’t be here. Ted and I may share an address in La Jolla, but he hasn’t spent three consecutive days there in years. Other than an e-mail or two, and a voice mail, I haven’t heard from him in three weeks.”
“Did any of the communications suggest he was in difficulty?” Steele asked.
“No.”
“Was the divorce adversarial?”
“No. We’re adults and we behaved like it.”
Steele lifted his eyebrows. “Could Hector be your ex-husband’s stalking horse?”
Grace frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“You say the divorce was amicable—”
“It was.”
Steele ignored the interruption. “—yet you’re a beautiful woman in the prime of life, with a very successful career and a brilliant legal future. Quite a catch by any measure, whether it be physical, intellectual, or social.”
She blinked, surprised by his summary. “I don’t see myself that way.”
Steele’s smile was a lot younger than he was. “I know. It’s part of your allure. By nature men are possessive creatures. Losing you must have stung. Ted wouldn’t be the first divorced man to get even with an ex-wife through a child. Revenge isn’t a pretty emotion, but it’s very powerful.”
Grace looked at her hands. Her nails were short, well kept, businesslike, naked of polish. Hardly the hands of a femme fatale. And if Ted had been hurt by the divorce, he sure never showed it.
Looking back, their marriage had died long before the divorce legally buried it.
“Does it matter why Ted did what he did?” she asked finally.
“It might. Revenge can be a more
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