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Reginald stared out at the darkening water and then removed a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and lit one. He blew a gray cloud at the overhang and tapped his fingers impatiently. A houseboy emerged bearing a silver tray with a single tumbler of Scotch, three-quarters full, with two small cubes of ice floating in the caramel distillation. Reginald downed a third in one swallow as the servant disappeared back inside.
“Ah. At least the Scottish are good at something,” he observed.
“I see you’re in another of your good moods,” Janus said.
“Never better. So what’s on the agenda for tonight? Raping and pillaging?”
“Hardly. I have reservations for five at the Carlton at seven. With the von Schiffs.”
Reginald groaned. “Not them. Anything but that.”
“Behave, Reginald. It’s business. You’ll put on a brave face.”
“The son’s an ass. Takes after his old man. And the missus is a positive gargoyle.”
“Perhaps. But they’re very profitable acquaintances to know.”
Reginald polished off the rest of his drink and held it aloft. “Best to have a few more of these, then.”
“I think not, old chap. Don’t want you to make a scene.”
Reginald’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m a big boy, Janus.”
“Yes. Well then, do behave like one, won’t you? I can’t have you showing up to dinner inebriated, which is where this is going. If you want to pursue your date with a bottle, do so after dinner, not before.”
“Bloody hell.”
“That’s the spirit. Go and find a proper jacket, and have Simon bring the car around. Dinner bell rings in a few minutes,” Janus said, dismissing Reginald, already on to something else.
Reginald’s sneer was lost on him. The younger man rose, stubbed out his cigarette with a curt stab, and stalked into the house.
Janus smoothed his glossy graying hair and finished the last of his port and then stood, taking care to also smooth his slacks and adjust his cravat. It wouldn’t do to appear rumpled to the von Schiffs. The Germans were very judgmental about the little things, and, as he knew, the difference between success and failure often came down to careful presentation.
Reginald was right, though, about the Germans’ son being an idiot.
But enduring a couple of hours with the imbecile would pay handsome dividends, so he’d do so with a smile.
The predatory smile of a raptor.
The overnight trip back to San Diego was mercifully smooth, and when the G650 touched down with a puff of smoke from its tires, Remi turned to Sam and gave him a tired look.
“Home at last,” she said.
“Hopefully, for a while. Unless you’ve scheduled something in the dizzy whirlwind of our social calen
dar and not told me about it.”
“The only thing I’ve got scheduled is some serious spa time and an appointment with a masseuse to treat my frostbite.”
“That wasn’t frost that bit you.”
“Don’t get fresh with me. I still haven’t forgiven you for volunteering us.”
“Nor should you. I’m hoping some spoiling you rotten might alleviate the worst of the sting.”
“That and more notoriety when they break news of the longship.”
“Maybe you’ll get your own reality show.”