expression unexpectedly softened. “We can end all this right now, Julia. Just tell me why you’re here.”
“I’m doing a human-interest story for Equine Earth Magazine.”
“On me.”
“Yes.”
“Yet, you didn’t recognize me at the jail. Didn’t look at a picture before you broke in?”
Julia scrambled for an explanation. “You look different in real life.”
Harrison laughed at that one. “You’re really the best they could find?”
They? “Who?”
His cell phone buzzed, and he shook his head as he pulled it out. “Never mind.”
“One moment,” he said into the phone, then he snapped his fingers. A young woman instantly responded to the summons, reminding Julia that Harrison was king here, and his word was law.
“Leila will show you to your room,” he said. “She’ll provide you with clothing, food and anything else you need.” His nod was curt as he turned away to deal with the phone call.
The young woman smiled shyly at Julia, and suddenly the prospect of clean clothes and something to eat overruled everything, even the need to bring überrich Harrison down a peg or two.
“Thank you,” she said to Leila, genuinely grateful for the young woman’s help.
Leila gestured to one of the staircases. “This way, please.”
“You speak English?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Is there a phone I could use?”
Leila looked uncomfortable. “I’m afraid not, ma’am.”
Julia sighed. She shouldn’t have been surprised the staff had been given instructions about her. Harrison definitely struck her as a detail-oriented kind of guy.
At the top of the staircase, her feet sank into the thick carpet of the hallway as they made their way along an open railing that looked down into the atrium.
Julia didn’t know whether to admire or sneer at the tall trees and the broad-leaved tropical plants below and the brilliant starscape through the domed glass ceiling above. It was all gorgeous, but definitely excessive.
When Leila opened a set of double doors, the opulence of the suite echoed that excess all over again.
A four-poster bed dominated the room, while a plush furniture grouping was tucked into an alcove. The carpet was as luxurious as the one in the hall, potted plants were dotted all around, and a door led to an absolutely decadent marble en suite with an oversize tub, gold faucets and double sinks.
Although the silly gold faucets were probably worth more than her car, Julia had to admit it was a whole lot better than her last prison cell. And, really, with a palace this big, there had to be an unguarded telephone somewhere.
Chapter Three
“So is she a spy?” asked Alex Lindley, stopping in the doorway of Harrison’s study, a snifter of cognac dangling from his fingers.
Harrison kept his gazed fixed on the Web page on his computer monitor. “It would appear a Julia Nash does, indeed, work for Equine Earth Magazine. Of course, it might not be our Julia Nash. And, even if it is, it could be a cover.”
Alex moved into the room. “A fake identity as a reporter would give her an excuse to travel around the world.”
Harrison nodded. He’d also found several dozen horse-themed articles written by Julia Nash, a scientific paper by a professor of the same name, a Julia Nash on the board of directors of Qantas Communications Company, and a couple of genealogy charts naming long-deceased Julia Nashes.
His quick search hadn’t come up with anything that either convicted or exonerated her. It might mean she was an innocent reporter or it might mean she was simply a competent covert operative—since none of them would have their real profession splashed all over the Internet, either.
Alex glanced over Harrison’s shoulder. “You want me to make a couple of calls to my military contacts?”
As an American ex-naval officer, Alex could still call in favors in most countries in the world.
“All that will do is send up one mother of a red flag in the secretary-general’s office,” said Harrison.
“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “Might as well cancel the reception outright as do that.”
Harrison pushed back in his chair. “And we won’t be canceling the reception.”
Alex nodded his agreement. As Harrison’s right-hand man, he knew full well the real reason behind the reception. It would facilitate under-the-radar consultations on an international oil pipeline.
“You hear anything more on the negotiations?” asked Alex.
“Uzbekistan’s on board, of course. But Kazakhstan can’t move without a Russian security guarantee. That means Turkmenistan has the French over a barrel on financing.”
“No French, no financing.”
“No port access and no pipeline.” Harrison finished what they both knew.
“If it all goes to hell, what kind of a loss are you looking at?” asked Alex.
“Sunk capital or net present value.”
“I don’t even want to think about net present value.”
“A hundred million in drilling anyway.”
Alex whistled under his breath. “Then I guess we won’t be sending up any red flags for the secretary-general’s security staff, will we?”
Harrison gave a nod to that. Russia wasn’t going to budge on their position on the pipeline. And if the secretary-general canceled his attendance at the reception, the high-level diplomats would follow suit. Harrison would lose his one chance for a meaningful conversation between the French, the Uzbeks and the Turkmen.
At the same time, if Julia Nash was some kind of an operative, or if she wasn’t working alone, and managed to pull something off at the reception, he could trigger one hell of an international incident.
“So what do we do?” asked Alex, dropping down into a guest chair.
“Beef up security,” said Harrison. “Talk to her. See if I can get a feel for…” He swung to his feet, searching for the right words. “I don’t know. But she doesn’t strike me as…”
“The best spies never do,” said Alex.
Harrison frowned at his friend. He knew that. But he’d also been around international commerce and politics long enough to get a feel for people. He was usually right in his assessments.
