U.S. Male (7 page)

Mutinously, she rose. “I’m going to take a bath,” she muttered and walked into the bathroom. If he thought he was going to push her around and make all the decisions, Mr. John Baxter, P.I. was going to have another think coming.

M
ORNING SUNLIGHT
slanted across the bathroom floor as Joss stepped out of the shower. She yawned, drying herself with a blissfully warm towel hot off the rack. Bax might have effortlessly transitioned to Stockholm time, but she hadn’t found it so easy. Let him have his early morning ritual of going downstairs for coffee. She’d stay in bed until she was good and ready.

Except for this morning. This morning, she had a different plan.

She dressed quickly, throwing on a scarlet studio jacket over jeans to ward off the morning chill. Then she slipped out the door and looked for the emergency exit. It would bring her to a back stairwell, she figured. Once she’d exited the hotel unobtrusively, she could work her way around to the waterfront and from there to the park.

The fire stairway dumped her out on the lane that she’d come down the night before. Hurriedly, she backtracked toward the boulevard and cut across the back of the hotel before heading to the waterfront and on to Karl XII’s
torg.

Bax might be furious with her for sneaking out, but he had only himself to blame. He’d refused to discuss the matter further the night before, seeming to think that his veto was enough. Well, it wasn’t. He was wrong, wanting to skip the meeting. They couldn’t take a chance on losing contact with Silverhielm and they couldn’t lose an
other day, not with her grandfather’s stamp at risk. Markus was expecting to see her. She had to be there.

Karl XII’s
torg
was a smallish formal garden right on the waterfront. Tree, shrub and flower, everything was exactly in its place. Decorative black metal railings edged the tidy beds of plantings. Painted wooden benches dotted the flagstone walks. In the little café next door, a ragged queue of Stockholmers lined up for coffee. The occasional cyclist whizzed down the bike lane on the opposite side, but at this hour on a weekday, the park itself was nearly empty.

Joss glanced around the park, looking for Markus. He materialized behind her shoulder.

“Good morning, Ms. Astin.”

Silent as a cat, she thought, trying not to jump. In the warm morning sun, he looked icily Nordic as ever, with his pale hair and pitiless eyes. Bax’s voice echoed in her head.
He’s a genuinely bad guy.

Well, maybe he was, but it was broad daylight in a public park and she refused to be intimidated. As far as he and Silverhielm were concerned, she had what they wanted. She had the upper hand, that was the important thing to remember.

“Good morning.” Figuring that shaking hands was bad form, Joss moved, toward a bench.

“Perhaps we should walk, instead,” Markus suggested.

“Certainly.” They began to stroll slowly down one of the pathways toward the water where the white tour boats bobbled, waiting for their first customers.

“You made some surprising allegations to my employer, last night,” he said without preamble.

“Not at all.”

“Karl Silverhielm may have made inquiries about a Post Office Mauritius pair in the past, but so have many
collectors in similarly fortunate positions. There is, after all, no crime in inquiries. Or in legitimate purchases, for that matter.”

Joss admired a row of nodding pink blossoms. “True enough. It’s theft that the authorities frown on.”

“Certainly, if any transpired,” he said blandly. “Mr. Silverhielm would of course find such activities reprehensible.”

“Of course.”

“But you accused him of such last night.”

Joss shot him a quick look. “I find it interesting that that was his interpretation. I merely told him I’d heard from a reputable source that he’d obtained one half of a Post Office Mauritius pair, and attempted to gauge his interest in obtaining the other half. Hypothetically,” she added.

“Of course. I believe the subject of money came up, as well.”

“I’m a businesswoman, Mr. Holm.”

“Call me Markus, please.”

“It’s a simple business proposition, Markus. I’ve found something of value that I have reason to think Mr. Silverhielm prizes highly. It seems reasonable to think that he would be willing to negotiate appropriate compensation for my trouble.”

“My employer is a thrifty man,” he told her. “He does not see why he should pay again for an object that should already be his.”

“I wouldn’t call it paying again,” Joss said.

“What would you call it?”

“A delivery fee.”

“Nonetheless, all fees and commissions have already been paid to Mr. Oakes. You are acting on behalf of Mr. Oakes and your boyfriend, I assume.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” she corrected him. “Actually, neither.
I’m acting on my own behalf. And Mr. Silverhielm’s. I could just hand it over to the authorities. That’s probably what I should do,” she said thoughtfully and stopped to look at him. “Unless you have an alternate proposal.”

“I believe I do, Ms. Astin,” he said, unbuttoning his coat.

“Josie, please.”

He smiled thinly. “Josie.” He moved his arm a bit and his coat fell open enough for her to see the gleam of steel from the gun holster at his side. In a flash, it was in his hand and against her side. “Perhaps, we should go back into the hotel.”

He caught at her wrist and pain shot up her arm. She tried to twist away, but it only hurt worse. Adrenaline vaulted through her. Stay calm, she reminded herself. He had nothing to gain by killing her and he wouldn’t do it in public. It was all a game.

Joss took a breath through her nose, trying to ignore the pain. “If you’re thinking that I’m foolish enough to have the Blue Mauritius in my room, you are going to be disappointed.”

“I am sure once we chat in private, you will happily tell me where it is.”

“It’s a little early for threats, isn’t it, Markus?” She stopped.

He twisted her wrist a bit and pressed the gun more firmly into her side. “It is not a threat, it is a promise. Now, you will begin walking.”

“I don’t think so,” a voice said from behind then, followed by a metallic snick.

Both Joss and Markus froze. Slowly, they turned around.

And saw Bax standing there. He gave a not entirely pleasant grin. “Hello, Markus.”

B
AX DIDN
’
T LIKE
surprises, not even a little. One minute, he’d been sitting in the front window of the Royal Viking’s café area wondering how it was that European coffee tasted so amazing, the next he’d caught a glimpse of Joss’s red jacket out of the corner of his eye. He’d watched as she slipped out of the side street and hurried along the waterfront, headed toward the park.

In an instant, he’d tossed down a few bills and headed out without a backward glance, even as he was overwhelmed with anger. For surely it was anger that crouched hard and cold in the pit of his stomach, not fear. How could she be so foolish as to put herself at risk yet again? After what he’d told her the night before, he couldn’t believe that she’d been obtuse enough to barge out and meet Markus.

Then again, he thought grimly now as he took one hell of a chance and pulled a gun on Markus in the open to save Joss’s stubborn neck, maybe he could.

Markus stared calmly back at him. “Ah, Johan, you know how much I hate surprises.”

“It shouldn’t be a surprise at all. I’m predictable. You threaten one of my people, I’ll take steps.”

“I didn’t know she was one of yours,” Markus said, slipping his gun back into the holster.

“Now you do,” Bax told him curtly, easing off the hammer of his own gun and stowing it out of sight.

Markus looked him up and down. “You are no longer with van den Berg?”

“On to new things. You’re no longer with Stuyvvens?”

Markus shrugged. “You know how it goes. A smart man follows the market.”

“I do indeed.” Bax stepped closer to Joss.

Markus studied the two of them together. “So you are working out of the U.S. now?”

“When the right opportunity comes up. Right now, it appears I’m working out of Stockholm.”

“That makes us a pair yet again.” Faint crinkles of humor appeared by Markus’s eyes. “I have an employer who could use a man with your talents.”

“I’m surprised at you, Markus, recruiting me in front of my current employer.”

“I see your current position as temporary. My employer would have steady work for you.”

Bax shrugged a little. “So let’s resolve our current matter and after that we’ll talk.”

“So we will.”

“Now, what were you discussing with my client before you tried to strong arm her into the hotel?”

Markus buttoned his jacket again. “That is an unfriendly way to put it.”

“Pulling guns on people is an unfriendly business.”

“She is asking my employer to pay again for a product he has already paid for.”

“That’s one way to think about it. Another is that it is a finder’s fee for Josie, who did not turn in the stamp and has instead brought it to Silverhielm. He could easily pay her and still get his goods for a bargain price.”

“But my employer is a proud man.”

“Pride is a luxury.”

“Ah, and Mr. Silverhielm is a man accustomed to luxury.”

“Then he must also be accustomed to paying for it.”

“Perhaps you are right.”

And in that moment, Bax knew they would get what they sought. “So let us be clear what we’re talking about. It’ll save time.”

“Ah, Johan. Always impatient. It is reassuring to know you haven’t changed. So what’s on your mind?”

“Some rules, first.”

“Such as?”

“No more private meetings with my client. You want to talk with her, I’m present. Always.” Even if he couldn’t get it through Joss’s thick skull, he might be able to get it through Markus’s.

Markus inclined his head. “Of course. And?”

“A discussion with your boss, the four of us. We don’t negotiate with you, we negotiate with him. No offense.”

“None taken, but Mr. Silverhielm is a very busy man.”

“I’m sure we can find a client who’s not so busy.” Bax began to turn away. “Excuse us—”

“Johan, please rein in that impatience for a moment.”

“Yes.”

“Allow me to consult with my employer.”

Bax’s teeth gleamed. “I thought you might.”

“I will find out what will suit him.”

“Soon, Markus.”

“Always, with you. Very well, then. You will hear from us.” He nodded sharply and walked away.

J
OSS WATCHED
Markus climb into the passenger seat of a polished gray sedan. In seconds, the car had disappeared into the flow of traffic into Gamla Stan and she was left trying to absorb the surreal—she’d just had a gun pulled on her in broad daylight. Trembling started in the long muscles of her thighs.

Bax turned to her with a face like thunder. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped. “You could have gotten yourself killed.” Then his eyes narrowed and he took her arm.

She pulled away from him. “Don’t grab me.”

“Sit,” he ordered, “now. You look like you’re going to keel over.”

She stood, face mutinous. “I’m fine.”

“You almost weren’t.”

“He wouldn’t have hurt me,” she retorted with more confidence than she felt.

“He had a gun on you, Joss.” He took a few steps away and swung back to her.

“He was trying to scare me.”

“And you’re a fool if he didn’t succeed. He doesn’t mess around.”

“He wouldn’t have done anything here in public,” she insisted, clinging to it. “Too many people could have seen him.”

Bax gave her an incredulous look. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. I once saw him shoot a man in a crowd of people and just walk away.”

Her jaw dropped and she closed it with a snap. “I don’t believe you.” But in her gut, she knew it was true.

“Joss, accept it,” Bax said wearily. “You’re out of your league trying to deal with him. You don’t know what he’s capable of. I do.”

“But you said you saved his life. How could you save the life of a killer?”

“Because it wasn’t my place to say he should die.”

“That sounds like a line from a bad TV show.”

“It’s anything but TV, which you have got to realize if you’re going to go any further with this. And you have got to start listening to me or this little game is over,” he said, coldly furious. “I thought we’d agreed that you weren’t coming out here.”

And now they were getting to the heart of it all. “We never agreed to anything. You just gave the orders and assumed I’d go along. Well, it doesn’t work that way, Bax.” She stood nose to nose with him, glaring. “This isn’t about just you. I’m a part of this too, remember? We’re a team.”

“Then act like it. You can’t just go off and do things on your own without telling me.”

“And you can’t just arbitrarily run the show and order me around,” she retorted.

“You hired me because of what I know.”

“I hired you to help, not to wade in and be John Wayne. I told you from the beginning I was going to work on this project, too.” Her voice rose.

“This isn’t a game, Joss. You’re not some character in a novel.”

“I know that, but I’ve got to be a part of this.”

“Why?” he demanded in frustration.

“Because it was my fault,” she burst out.

On the bridge leading to Gamla Stan, horns rang out. Bax stood staring at her.

Joss swallowed. “The one-penny Mauritius isn’t just a valuable stamp, it’s a big part of my grandfather’s retirement. And it was my screwup that let it get stolen.” She turned and sank down on the bench behind her, putting her face in her hands. Bax sat beside her.

“You had a lot of very driven people after those stamps. One way or another, they were going to get them.”

“It doesn’t matter. Reality was, I was the one who made it easy for them.”

“And how, exactly, was that? Did you hand them over?”

“No.”

“Did you insist the stamps be kept in the safe instead of a bank vault where they belonged?”

“No, but I just as good as handed Jerry the key. He’d come to work for us because I didn’t want to work alone. He and I were the only ones in the store when he stole them. Gwen was out of town—she’d given me the key and combination to the safe. I locked them in the desk and went out for lunch.” Joss turned to look out at the water. “That was all it took.”