The Freedom Broker (Thea Paris #1)(65)

The general smiled, a big, broad, crocodile grin. “You must be mistaken. I rescued Nikos from the warlord who had abducted him.”

“That’s not what I heard.” Rif stared deeply into the general’s eyes.

“Spreading rumors can be dangerous, especially when you’re in another man’s neighborhood. Perhaps you should enjoy the festivities and leave your suspicions for another day.”

Sudden movement across the room distracted him. Peter was stumbling in Thea’s direction, obviously inebriated. Where the hell was his professionalism? Maybe it was acceptable to be half-sloshed at some business functions, but wouldn’t it make more sense to keep your wits about you? And this was undoubtedly the most important negotiation of Peter’s career; he was stepping up in a crisis to help close this deal. Being intoxicated now seemed foolish, even for him.

Rif left the general, wanting to intercept the CFO before he embarrassed Thea.

Too late. Peter bumped into a waiter, vaulting a tray of champagne glasses across the room. Crystal shattered on the floor. People turned to stare. The pianist stopped playing. A hush fell over the Livingstone Room.

Peter staggered forward, his pace slowing with every step. His face was mottled, eyes glazed. White froth leaked from his mouth. Seconds later, he collapsed on the hardwood floor.

Rif scrambled forward to help him, quickly feeling for a pulse. He couldn’t find one. Thea joined him on the ground, preparing to start CPR.

A faint but familiar whiff of almonds drifted into his sinuses. He placed a hand on Thea’s shoulder. “It’s too late. He’s gone.”





Chapter Forty-Six



Thea stared at Peter Kennedy, wishing she could will him back to life, but his bulging, inert eyes left no hope. Minutes ago, he’d waved to her from across the room, his normally gregarious self. Now he was dead. Cyanide, by the look and smell of it.

Sirens sounded in the distance. The partygoers hovered around them in a scattered circle, muttering to each other. The room’s festive, relaxed mood had turned sour. Now a corpse marred the gleaming marble floor.

Rif offered Thea a hand up. She accepted, her knees wobbly.

General Jemwa strode toward them. “Ms. Paris, my guards are sealing the entrances to the hotel until we determine what happened here. The local authorities are on their way.”

Whoever had murdered Peter could easily have slipped something into his drink and had plenty of time to leave the party. Even if the killer was still here, finding any evidence would take time.

The general announced in his booming voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, please move to the far side of the room, and the waiters will continue to serve you. Nobody may go until the authorities arrive and release you.”

From the expressions on the guests’ faces, Thea surmised that the last thing they wanted to do was remain in a room with a dead body, but no one disobeyed the giant’s orders. After all, he was Prime Minister Kimweri’s head of security.

“Can your men collect any photos or video footage from tonight?” she asked. It was doubtful they’d catch the killer in the act, but it would be worth seeing if anyone had hovered near Peter at the bar. “I’d also like to interview your bartenders.”

“Whatever you need.” The general seemed genuinely distressed by Peter’s demise.

Thea and Rif stood together near the CFO’s body, waiting for the forensics team and medical examiner to arrive.

Rif’s hand brushed the stubble on his cheek. “I wasn’t a big fan of Kennedy, but he didn’t deserve this.”

“I feel so bad. His ex-wife, his kids. They’re going to be devastated.”

“This whole deal is cursed. So many people involved have died—and then there’s Christos’s kidnapping. It was the right decision to come here. It’s all connected.”

“I’d look closely at the Chinese. They have the most to gain if Paris Industries folds at the bargaining table. And you need to know . . .”

Nikos walked up and touched her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Far from it, but we’ll get through this somehow.” Her eyelids felt heavy, tired.

Ahmed joined their group. “I spoke to the prime minister. He’s offered to delay the negotiations for a day or two, his way of showing respect for our loss.”

Peter’s extensive knowledge of the figures would be sorely missed, but Ahmed Khali was a genius at the negotiating table. Whoever was behind Peter’s murder wanted this delay, so Thea hoped Ahmed wouldn’t give it to them. They’d had enough setbacks. Ahmed needed ballast at that bargaining table.

“Are you still willing to move forward?” she asked.

“Absolutely.” Ahmed touched his temple, as if warding off a headache.

“Perhaps it would help if we had both brother and sister at the Paris table, a show of family solidarity,” Nikos said.

“I’ll let the prime minister know that we’ll be ready to start first thing. Nikos, come over and meet him.” Ahmed and Nikos headed toward the leader of Kanzi.

Rif’s glare made her uncomfortable.

“What?” she asked.

“You really think this is a good idea? Christos would be apoplectic if he knew that Nikos was anywhere near this deal.”

“I’m tired of being reactive, and it’s not as if Nikos and I will do the actual negotiating. That’s Ahmed’s job. It’s more about showing how the Paris family stands behind the company. And we need to draw out the kidnapper.”