Ultimate Weapon (McClouds & Friends #6)(10)

Novak pushed one of the rubies on the finial. It came loose, and a tiny blade slid out. “Do you see this? It’s a miniature of the dagger that opened my son’s throat. It is an exact reproduction of the torque Kurt gave McCloud’s woman. My Kurt’s foul murder is immortalized in a cheap bauble for a brainless whore!”

Jakab jumped as Novak drove the small blade into the table. It stuck, vibrating. He cleared his throat with a dry, nervous cough.

Novak picked up the card in the black velvet box. No logo, no address, just bold letters.

DEADLY BEAUTY

Wearable Weaponry by Tamara

And below, a cell number. Inactive, of course. Nothing so simple as that.

“A direct message,” the boss muttered. “A slap in my face.”

In fact, the message was hardly direct. By pure chance had András noticed the torque on the mistress of a business associate at a party in Paris some weeks before. It had caught his eye, since he knew the odd manner of Kurt’s death. The woman had demonstrated her torque’s special properties when András got her alone, and helpfully shared the name of the broker who had sold it to her lover, but she’d been unwilling to part with the piece when András offered to buy it. Happily, no one noticed that the jewelry was not on her broken body when she was found shortly thereafter, having flung herself from the penthouse terrace.

Drugs, of course. A useless life, a meaningless death. So sad.

The broker had been most forthcoming, with András’s knife digging into his carotid artery. He’d provided the business card and a physical description of the torque’s designer. A stunningly beautiful, mysterious young woman who could only be Kurt’s lying, murderous ex-mistress.

Whom Georg Luksch had sworn was dead. How very strange.

“Help me understand this situation, Jakab.” Novak’s voice was deceptively gentle. “I spent a fortune to have Georg freed from prison. I spent another fortune to have his face and body put back together. I groomed him to be my successor, to take Kurt’s place at my side. I made him rich, powerful. Now I discover, by pure chance, that this filthy whore is alive and flourishing? And that Georg has contracted a PSS agent to locate her? Without informing me?”

“He…how did…but how do you—”

“How do I know this?” Novak’s smile peeled back from long, yellowing teeth. “I have my ways, Jakab. I know everything, sooner or later. I know that it is my old protégé, Vajda, who is charged with the task of looking for her. A good choice. A whore to catch a whore.” He wrenched the dagger loose. It left an ugly divot in the gleaming table. “I have been used,” he announced. “Lied to. Where is she, Jakab? Where is Steele?”

András braced himself. Lied to, Novak’s pet hate. The words “lied to” always ended in a bloodbath.

Jakab reached out an entreating hand. “Boss. I don’t know! I swear! They don’t tell me these things! And I am sure that Georg did not mean to mislead you. Perhaps this is a misunderstanding. The situation is complex. The woman is—”

Thunk. There was a choked gasp from Jakab. The dagger had pinned his hand to the table. The man’s jaw sagged. Blood pooled under his palm.

“Complex, did you say?” Novak’s voice had gotten even gentler. “I think it is quite simple, Jakab. Nothing like a knife through the hand to simplify things.”

Jakab had begun to shake violently. “But…but I cannot…I don’t—”

“Where?” Novak put his hand on the jeweled finial. “Where is she? Or shall I twist it?”

Jakab gasped, breath hitching. Novak wrenched the blade out. A shriek of agony jerked from Jakab’s throat. “Tell me, you useless bag of shit!” the old man rasped. “What has Vajda discovered? Where is the bitch? Tell me! Now!”

But Jakab could no longer answer. Something was very wrong with him, something more serious than a minor puncture wound. His mouth began to froth. He pitched forward, eyes wild, face squashed against the table, blood pouring from both nostrils.

His twitching slowed, gradually ceased, while they all watched, in silence.

Novak blinked, and examined the dagger in his hand with renewed interest. “Poison,” he commented. “Interesting.”

András stared at the meat that was now his responsibility to remove, with an inward sigh.

“Get rid of this garbage, András,” Novak ordered. “Cut off a few identifying pieces and send them to that lying pig, so we all know where we stand. Then get Vajda for me. He had no business working for Georg in the first place. We will remind him of where his real loyalties lie.”

“I will take care of it, as soon as Daroczy is discharged from the hospital,” András repeated, with grim patience.

But Novak was no longer listening. The boss’s eyes burned as he turned the dagger in his hand. “He will bring her to me. And I will use this blade,” he mused, his voice almost dreamy. “This very blade, once the poison is removed, of course. It must be slow. She will watch, in the mirror. And I will save her eyes for last.”



Georg bucked and heaved grimly against the body of the sex professional who writhed against him on the bed. She was making too much noise. It was spoiling his fantasy.

He was annoyed. He’d thought she’d do so perfectly when he’d seen the photographs of her. The initial effect was striking: the long red hair, the perfect body. She’d had extensive cosmetic surgery done to her face to make her look as much like Tamara Steele as it was possible to look. The surgeons had done a good job.