Hungary,” she laughed, “that is more than enough. This is my brother, Dominic.”
Jack rounded the table and extended his hand. It was a simple courtesy, a universal gesture recognized the world over. Yet there was something about the look accompanying it that made Gina pause. The message was subtle. Almost too subtle. She caught a hint of it, though, or thought she did.
So did Dominic. His smile took on a sardonic edge, his eyes a sudden glint as he shook Jack’s hand.
“We’ve met before, Ambassador, although I doubt you’ll remember.”
“I remember. I also remember you were using another name at the time.”
The two men ignored the surprise that produced among the women. Their gazes locked, they seemed to be engaged in a private and very personal duel.
“I was, indeed,” Dominic drawled. “And you, as I recall, had not yet acquired your so very impressive diplomatic credentials.”
The duchess’s notions of propriety didn’t include what was fast assuming the air of an Old West showdown in her dining room. With a touch of irritation, she thumped her hand on the table to get the combatant’s attention.
“Do sit down, both of you. Jack, would you care to try this very excellent cognac? Or there’s coffee if you prefer.”
“Cognac, please.”
“Gina, if you’ll get another snifter perhaps Jack or Dominic will condescend to tell us where or when they met before.”
The acidic comment found its mark. While Gina retrieved a cut crystal snifter from the graceful Louis XV china cabinet that took up almost an entire wall, the tension between the two men eased by imperceptible degrees. She brought the snifter to the table and splashed in the aromatic brandy as Dom yielded the floor to Jack with upturned palms.
“It’s more your story than mine, Ambassador.”
Jack accepted the snifter with a murmured thanks and addressed himself to the duchess. “Dominic and I met a number of years ago in Malta. I was on a UN fact-finding mission investigating the transshipment of young women kidnapped from Eastern Europe and sold to wealthy purchasers in the Arab world.”
“Dear Lord!” The duchess shot her guest a sharp, questioning look, but he merely gestured for Jack to continue.
“While the UN team was in Malta, we heard rumors of a shipment coming in from Albania. We worked with Interpol and the Maltese authorities to intercept the trawler transporting the merchandise. There were six girls aboard, all between the ages of fifteen and twenty, all drugged to the gills.”
Jack lifted the balloon goblet and swirled its contents. His gaze shifted from the duchess to the man sitting across of him.
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