Page 26

Upstairs in his room, Jake unpacked and put away his clothes.

Since the competition didn’t start until the following Tuesday, they’d be staying in Dublin for almost two weeks.

Jake had been looking forward to seeing a little of the country.

Now he just wanted whatever was going to happen to be over with and done.

Sliding back the sleeve of his coat, he checked his watch.

Almost one o’clock.

He was due at the tobacconist shop at two.

Picking up his money clip and the wad of Irish bills called punt he’d exchanged from English pounds at the airport, he headed out the door.

The cab ride to Molesworth Street normally didn’t take long, but Jake decided to take a roundabout route, change cabs a couple of times, just in case he was being followed by Daniel’s men.

At two o’clock sharp he got out of the taxi in front of the Bit O’ Dublin Tobacconist Shop, a small store wedged between two antique dealers.

The window was filled with a multitude of pipes, cigars, cigar clippers, cartons of cigarettes, anything and everything that had to do with smoking.

Jake pushed open the glass-paned door, making the bell ring, and inhaled the aroma of tobacco, so pungent it made his mouth water, though he’d never take up smoking again.

The store was narrow but deeper than he’d imagined when he’d seen it from the street.

A wizened, gray-haired man wearing spectacles stood behind a counter at the far end.

“I believe you have something for me,”

Jake said.

“If your name is Straka, I do indeed.”

“It was Straka,”

Jake said pointedly, but his meaning was lost on the little man.

“You’re taller in person,”

the man said.

Jake wondered what pictures the man had seen.

The shopkeeper wiped his hands on the canvas apron he wore over his shirt and pants, reached beneath the counter and pulled out a small, sealed manila envelope.

He handed it to Jake.

With a curt nod, Jake stuffed it into the inside breast pocket of his jacket, turned and left the shop.

Outside, he glanced around, but saw no one suspicious.

The streets were crowded with tourists, an unusually large group since Dublin was celebrating its Millennium, as well as the Dublin Horse Show, the biggest event of the year, starting next week.

Jostling his way along the bustling sidewalk, Jake rounded the corner and walked a few blocks.

The green lawns of Trinity College beckoned, a quiet respite where he could sit undisturbed and open the package that seemed to burn a hole in his chest.

Finding a shady bench, he pulled out the envelope and carefully broke the seal.

Inside he found a small round plastic vial contained a pair of contact lenses, two hotel keys—one to the Lansdowne, one to the Shelbourne—and a bottle of chalky white liquid.

The instructions were simple:

On the morning of the Nations’ Cup competition, you will substitute the enclosed contact lenses for those worn by Felix McGrath.

The night before, you will exchange the enclosed prescription for the one used by Clayton Whitfield.

Your final instructions will be given on Friday morning at ten o’clock.

At the bottom, a diagram showed the location of the Friday morning rendezvous, the day of the Nations’ Cup.

Saturday was the final day of competition.

Jake looked at the brown plastic bottle of chalky liquid.

It had a typed label on the front showing Clay’s name and the name of his doctor.

It looked exactly like the bottle Clay always carried.

He studied the contact lenses floating in the tiny vial, certain they would be identical to Flex’s.

What the consequences would be for Flex and Clay? What if the substances were deadly? What if Jake was supposed to murder Flex and Clay?

Jake’s stomach rebelled at the thought.

Could he actually commit murder? His conscience screamed no! But his mind warned he had to think carefully, stay open to every possibility if he was going to save Maggie and Sarah and his mother and sister.

But about Clay and Flex?

His fears increased.

Jake walked a few more blocks then went into a small, crowded restaurant.

Heading straight for the men’s room, he found it empty and ducked out through a low window that overlooked an alley.

He couldn’t chance being traced to the chemist’s shop he intended to visit.

He needed answers.

Maybe he could get them there.

Late in the afternoon, Jake returned to the hotel.

The telephone was ringing when he walked into his room.

“Jake, thank heavens you’re back.”

Maggie’s voice rang with alarm.

“I’ve been worried sick.”

“I’m back.

Everything’s okay.”

“Where have you been?”

Jake hesitated.

“Why don’t you meet me in the bar? We can talk about it over a drink.”

“That’s...that’s fine.

I’ll be down in five minutes.”

Jake hung up wearily.

She knows me too well, he thought.

Maggie had sensed something was wrong, but Jake couldn’t tell her what it was.

He walked over and stared out the window, thinking of the last few hours.

All he’d discovered was that Clay’s prescription contained a mild amount of chloral hydrate.

Not enough to kill him even if he drank the whole bottle, but enough to make him violently ill.

Knowing Clay, he might still try to ride, but the odds of his winning would be almost nil.

Flex’s contacts remained a mystery.

The chemist could find nothing unusual in the solution that housed the lenses, which appeared to be of the standard plastic material.

Tomorrow he’d work on the puzzle again.

In the meantime, it didn’t look like they expected him to commit murder—at least not yet.

Maybe things could still work out.

Then he asked himself the question he’d been avoiding all day: Why would the Soviets go to this much trouble just to ensure that the American team lost the Dublin competition?

There had to be more to it.

Forcing aside his fears, Jake headed downstairs.

Maggie waited in the pub, a popular spot called the Pirate’s Den, sipping a glass of white wine.

A whiskey and water sat in front of the empty chair across from her, ready and waiting for Jake.

She glanced across the room to the staircase just as he reached the bottom step and started toward her.

Maggie forced herself to smile, though after worrying about him all day, it was an effort.

Jake sat down and picked up the drink she’d ordered for him. “Thanks.”

“Is everything all right? Has something happened?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Where did you go? I’ve been worried sick.”

“I just went sightseeing.

I wish I could have taken you along, but you know I can’t.”

“Why not?”

she asked peevishly.

“It’s obvious the Soviets know about us so there’s no need to keep our relationship secret.”

Jake stiffened.

“What makes you think they know?”

Maggie reached for his hand and Jake linked his fingers with hers.

“Because you’ve suddenly become so congenial.”

She glanced pointedly at their interlocking fingers.

“Last week you’d hardly speak to me, let alone hold my hand.

Tell me the truth, Jake.”

He released a slow breath.

“They don’t know any more than they did before.

I just did some thinking and decided I was overacting.

I don’t think they’d threaten an American citizen.”

“You’re an American citizen,”

she reminded him.

“And they’re darned well threatening you.”

Jake smiled indulgently.

“The circumstances are different, and you know it.”

“What about Ellie?”

“They were trying to make their point.”

He managed another smile, but it looked strained.

“And Shep?”

“What happened to Shep had nothing to do with this.”

He leaned forward in his chair.

“Everything’s going to be all right, Maggie, but we don’t want to take any chances.

As long as we remain discreet, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

Maggie watched him closely.

She’d spent enough time with Jake to know he wasn’t telling the truth.

She would have to keep an eye on him.

Inwardly she smiled.

Leaning back in his chair, his white shirt open at the throat, he was one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen.

His vivid blue eyes looked at her hungrily, and she knew what he was thinking.

“I suppose you’re far too prudent a man to be seen with me at dinner,”

she said, just to see how he’d react.

“Far too prudent,”

he agreed with a lazy half smile.

“And far too prudent to Shep dinner altogether and join me in my room?”

His smile faded and his eyes darkened.

“Don’t tempt me, Maggie.

It’s all I can do to keep from hauling you up those stairs and into my bed.

But I can’t afford to involve you in this.”

Maggie swallowed.

She’d forgotten what a formidable opponent Jake could be.

“I’m sorry,”

she said, not really sorry at all.

Across the table, Jake relaxed and smiled.

“I don’t know how I’m going to stay away from you for the next ten days.”

You aren’t, Maggie thought.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.

You’ve always had a will of iron.”

Moving her foot until her calf rested lightly against his leg, she could feel the lean muscles through the fabric of his trousers.

She accidently brushed his leg again and pretended to be unaware of the pleasant sensations.

Jake cleared his throat and moved his leg away.

“You probably ought to go,”

he said, but she heard his half-hearted tone and seized on it.

“I suppose so.

I thought I’d prowl around a little, maybe take a taxi ride through the city.”

She studied him through lowered lashes.

“Oh, no, you don’t.

It’s getting dark.

I don’t want you going off by yourself.

Get Ellie or Prissy to go with you.”

“They’ve already left.

I’m tired of staying here alone.”

Maggie stood up.

“I’ll be careful, Jake.

Besides, you said there was no real danger.”

She picked up her purse and headed for the door.

Jake caught up with her in two long strides.

“I don’t want you going out alone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Jake muttered something beneath his breath.

“Damn you, Maggie, you’ve got a knack for getting your way.”

“Do I?”

“Leave your door unlocked.

And get out of those clothes.

I’ll be up in five minutes.”

“But Jake...“ Her eyes widened, all innocence.

“Don’t push your luck,”

he said gruffly, but there was amusement in his expression and when his gaze swept down her body, she couldn’t mistake the warmth.

“I love you, Jake,”

she said softly, and then she was gone.

Ellie spent her days in Dublin working with Rose and Jubilee, sightseeing with Flex, or shopping for woolens and crystal with Prissy or Maggie.

Shep took her to see the Radio Telefis Eirean Symphony Orchestra in the National Concert Hall.

He was still a little battered, his face still bruised and slightly swollen, but his attitude was back to normal.

He grinned as he looked up at the old women on stage of the Concert Hall.

“How can such wrinkled faces make such beautiful music? Those old girls look like they’re already half dead and the other half is leaving right after the show.”

Ellie laughed.

“Not all of them are that old.

Look at the boy playing the cello.

He can’t be more than nineteen.”

Shep’s gaze scanned the singers.

“Ah, yes, delicious.

You’re right, my dear, if one looks hard enough, one can always find a light in the darkness.”

Along with Flex, Prissy, Gerry, and several other grooms, she made a trip to the singing pub, the Brazen Head on Bridge St.

The lovely Irish ballads turned her a little melancholy, but overall, it was a memorable evening.

As the week slid past, Ellie kept her days and nights so full she had little time to think of Clay.

Still, she wondered what he was doing with his days and nights.

She hated him, she told herself for the ten thousandth time.

He was a bastard. It was easier to think of him with anger than the love she had once believed she’d felt for him.

It was just infatuation, she told herself.

Friday night, they all went out to dinner.

There’d been no more incidents with the team, and her worry was beginning to fade.

Then, just as the meal was ending, Clay walked in.

Ellie saw him striding through the door and suddenly couldn’t swallow another bite of food.

“Hello, everyone,”

he said, his tone even.

“Hello, Clay.”

Prissy cast him a warm smile.

“I don’t want to interrupt your dinner.

Gerry Winslow told me where to find you.

I just dropped by to extend an invitation.

My father has taken a place in the country for the weekend. He’s having a few friends over, and he’d like to invite you all to come. The house is quite large, so there’s plenty of room.”

He glanced at Jake and then at Prissy.

Both of them smiled at him.

Shep fairly beamed.

“Personally, I could do with a little bit of hobnobbing.

You haven’t lived until you’ve been a guest of Avery Whitfield.”

Flex looked uncertain.

Ellie knew he was battling his conscience, trying to decide whether, for the sake of the team, to end his feud with Clay.

“I’d like that,”

he finally said, and Clay looked relieved.

“How about the rest of you?”

Clay asked.

“I think it would be good for all of us,”

Jake said.

Ellie could see he was determined to pull the team together before the competitions in Seoul.

I’m not about to join your little party, she thought, lifting her chin.

“I’d love to see the Irish countryside,”

Prissy said.

“So would I,”

Maggie agreed.

“Ellie?”

Jake asked with a pointed glance that warned her to say yes.

She looked at Clay.

His expression had tightened.

He seemed to be looking at a spot somewhere above her head.

Bastard, she thought. I won’t let you win. “I’d like nothing better,” she said.

Clay just nodded.

“The limousines will be here tomorrow at noon.

They’ll bring you back Monday morning.”

“Sounds wonderful,”

Prissy said.

“Delicious,”

Shep added.

“Then I’ll see you all tomorrow.”