his tracks. “Of course I bloody don’t!”
“It’s what’ll happen. For God’s sake, I would probably have died in Tokyo if you hadn’t been there—never mind what happened at JFK! And from what Dalton told you, Glas won’t give up. I need you, Eddie.”
“You could hire a bodyguard. I’ve still got Charlie’s number; he’s got a couple of guys I’d trust to keep you safe.”
“I don’t mean I need you as a bodyguard.” She stepped closer, looking into his eyes. “I need you as a husband. You know: best friend, soul mate … lover?” She held his hands. “I want you back, Eddie. I want my husband back. Not on the run in God knows what part of the world.”
“Christ, believe me, that’s what I want more than anything!” Eddie replied desperately. “But I don’t have any choice. I’ve got to go. Otherwise—”
He broke off at the sound of someone knocking at the door. Nina jumped. “Shit!” she whispered. “What if it’s the cops?”
“They’d be knocking with a battering ram.” He moved her aside. “Get rid of them. I’ll hide in the bedroom.”
“Don’t you dare pack your things,” Nina warned as she went to the door, waiting for Eddie to get out of sight before looking through the peephole.
It wasn’t the police. But she was still startled by who she saw.
The visitor was Larry Chase.
“It’s your dad!” she hissed to Eddie.
He poked his head around the door frame. “What the fuck’s he doing here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then get rid of him!”
Eddie retreated, leaving the bedroom door fractionally open so he could listen as Nina let the unexpected visitor in. “Larry, hi. This is, uh, kind of a surprise.” He was alone. “Where’s Julie?”
“Shopping,” Larry replied. “She’s on a pilgrimage to Bloomingdale’s, so I thought I’d leave her to it.”
“When are you flying back to England?”
“Tonight. Not trying to get rid of me, are you?”
“It’s kind of an awkward time.”
“That’s okay, this won’t take long.” He looked around the apartment. “Nice place you’ve got. Very tasteful.” He spotted one of Eddie’s possessions on a shelf, a pottery cigar-box holder in the shape of a smiling Fidel Castro. “Well, mostly.”
“So what can I do for you, Larry?” Nina asked, moving around the room so that by facing her, Larry would have his back to the bedroom door.
“I wanted to fix things up between us. When we had dinner, it didn’t end well. Which made it two out of two, and I’d like dinner number three to at least reach the dessert course without any fireworks!” He laughed a little, but stopped when he saw Nina’s stony expression. “That’s assuming that you’re willing for there to be a dinner number three, of course.”
“It’s not something I’d given a great deal of thought, to be honest. Look, Larry, this really isn’t a good time—”
“Please, it’ll just take a minute!” He was silent for a moment, composing himself. “I wanted to apologize. For what happened in South America. I’ve been thinking about what you told me, and … you were right. I shouldn’t have talked to Stikes.”
“No,” said Nina coldly. “You shouldn’t.”
“But I didn’t know, I didn’t know!” Larry protested, hands spread wide. “Yes, Callas and de Quesada weren’t the kind of clients I’d actively seek out, but I didn’t know what they were planning. When Edward turned up in Bogotá afterward and started threatening to tie me in with their attempted coup, I … well, I admit it, I panicked. I needed reassurances that I wasn’t going to end up embroiled in the whole mess—and Stikes was the only person who could provide them, since de Quesada and Callas were both dead.”
“And because you called him—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “And I’m sorry, I really, really am sorry about it, and I know that if I hadn’t spoken to Stikes none of it would have happened. If I’d known, if there had been any possible way I could have known, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“That doesn’t change what happened, though,” said Eddie, stepping out of the bedroom behind him.
Larry whirled, face a mixture of shock, relief—and nervousness. “Edward? Oh my God! You’re all right!”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Eddie said with a shrug, before fixing his father with a cold gaze. “So, did I just hear that right? You actually apologized to someone?”
“If I make a mistake, I own up to it,” his father replied stiffly.
“So I guess that must have been the first mistake you ever made in your life, seeing as I don’t remember you doing that