Page 116 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

“A hundred grand,” Julian said, plucking a figure out of thin air.

“Not good enough. I need to clear a quarter mil.”

“That’s a lot of money,” Julian said. “Planning to buy another hotel?”

He tried to sound reluctant, but it was all he could do to keep the rising tide of triumph out of his voice.

“I owe Luther Pell two fifty,” Ward said.

That explained a lot, Julian thought.

“How did a smart guy like you get himself in so deep?” he said. “They say Pell’s got mob connections.”

“You don’t need to know the details. I doubt if your client will argue about the price—not if the notebook is as important as you seem to think.”

“It is. Trust me.”

“All right. Make the deal. When I get the money, you’ll get the notebook. Until then it stays in my safe.”

Ward didn’t realize that his safe had been cracked. He assumed the notebook was still inside.

Julian was dazed by his own good luck; a euphoric relief set fire to his blood.

“All right,” he said. He had to fight to keep his voice reasonably cool. “I’ll telephone my boss first thing in the morning. He’ll have to set up the auction. It’s going to take a little time to put the deal together. Maybe a couple of days.”

“Fine. But meanwhile you will continue to be a guest here at my hotel where I can keep an eye on you. You don’t leave the grounds.”

“Understood,” Julian said.

“My security people will be watching you.”

“Sure.”

Julian adjusted his right hand on the hilt of the knife, finding the position that allowed him the most control. Now that the bargain hadbeen made, there was a very good possibility that the target would get careless. Talking about large sums of money had a tendency to do that to people—especially when you were having the discussion with a man who was in trouble with a shady character like Pell.

Come on, you bastard. All I need is one clear opportunity.

“Are we finished here?” he asked.

“Looks like it. See you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

Just a dumb, failed magician, Julian thought.

He made his way down the shadowed hallway. When he reached the living room, he held his breath. There was always the possibility that Ward had lied to him about wanting to make a deal. But that was unlikely. He wouldn’t have set up the trap if he wasn’t desperate to find a buyer for the notebook.

Julian crossed the living room, hurrying through the wedge of moonlight. It was the point at which he was most visible and, therefore, most vulnerable. If Ward had deceived him, the shot would come during the second or two it took him to gain the shadows of the kitchen.

There was no flash of light. No gun roared.

He made it into the darkened front hall and paused to look back across the living room. A figure was clearly silhouetted against the glass doors that opened onto the patio. Ward’s cane thudded softly on the tiles. Julian heard the rasp of shoe leather on the tiled floor.

Got you,Julian thought.

The throw was so fast and so clean that Ward never even got off a shot.

The blade went home, sinking deep into human flesh.

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