The Heart of the Jungle, стр. 38
She led him into an elegantly furnished office and perched languorously on the edge of a highly polished desk. "Something to drink, Mr. Kingsley?" she purred.
It was a feat of composure that he did not react at her use of his real name. "I'm sorry, what did you call me?"
"Let's drop the charade, Jason. May I call you Jason? I know who you really are."
He stared at her in mute silence. If she knew he was here, Brunner probably did too, and God knew what that meant for Chris's daughter.
"There must be some mistake," he tried, knowing before the words were out of his mouth that the ploy would be unsuccessful.
Glittering black eyes regarded him with cold disdain. "You arrived yesterday, Alaska Airlines flight seventeen, departing Seattle-Tacoma International Airport at 10:57. You checked into the Venetian upon arrival, courtesy of your longtime friend Curtis Marcus. You shopped at the Forum shops from approximately eleven thirty until two forty-five and spent a grand total of six thousand, four hundred and twenty-seven dollars. Purchases included the suit you are currently wearing; a pair of Lucky Brand jeans sized twenty-nine waist, thirty length, no doubt for Christian James, with whom you are traveling; one solid-colored, light-blue T-shirt---a good choice of color for him, by the way---several pieces of rather well-made costume jewelry; and a 'What Happens In Vegas' baseball cap, presumably for your receptionist. Should I continue?"
"You're obviously well-informed," Jason said, shaking his head ruefully.
"I don't like surprises, Jason. Not in the least."
"So what are you going to do, have me roughed up? Killed?"
She laughed. "Please, that's utterly barbaric. I might operate on the fringe, but I'm not a common thug."
"Brunner knows I'm here?"
"Brunner?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in feigned innocence.
"All I want to know is how much of a head start he has. I'll leave quietly, and we'll both go back to our normal lives."
She rose from the desk and threw open the doors to a concealed bar.
Turning to face him, she said, "How about that drink? Glenlivet, is it? Neat?"
Jason glared. He hadn't expected to be found out so quickly.
"Have it your way, then." She closed the cabinet doors and returned to her perch on the desk. Her eyes never left him as she crossed her ankles delicately and lit a cigarette. "I have no loyalty to Brunner. He cheated me out of a very lucrative deal recently. I'm not a woman you can fuck over---at least not without permission---if you hadn't already noticed." She inhaled and shifted position, pointing the cigarette in his direction. "In fact, if he hadn't crossed me, you and I would not be having this conversation right now."
Jason relaxed slightly.
"But if I told you where to find him, and he found out about it, that could put me in a somewhat... precarious position. You understand the dilemma?"
"I promise to keep you completely out of it."
She smiled mirthlessly. "I imagine you would, indeed. I can tell that you're a man of your word. An honest man. In my line of work, I don't meet many like you. Absolutely idealistic and incorruptible. It's another reason I allowed you through. I had to see it firsthand. What girl wouldn't love to discover that unicorns really do exist, after all?"
"What if you just tell me about Brianna James?"
The seductive smile evaporated. "I'm afraid that's out of the question."
"Is she alive?"
Sylvia Hopkins had a damn good poker face. Jason couldn't tell one way or another.
"Has she been harmed in any way?"
"It's important to you. Not just because it is a case. You actually care." These were not questions, though the tone was one of mild surprise. She took another drag on her cigarette. "What if I told you she's alive and safe? That she is living in the lap of luxury and doesn't have a single care? What if I told you that the family she is with is very, very dangerous? That you'd be well out of your league if you started poking around in their affairs?"
He shook his head. "I may no longer be a federal agent, but that doesn't absolve me of an obligation to return her to her rightful home."
"Her paperwork is ironclad. No matter how carefully you make your case, they'll prevail. There are hospital staff who can testify to the painful birth, housekeeping staff who can recount every moment of her short life up to this point, tutors and nannies and neighbors who have all watched her grow from infant to toddler. Of course, next you'll argue that a genetic test would prove it conclusively, but you'd be stunned to discover that her parents are a perfect genetic match when the lab results are returned. Every base is covered."
The lengths to which she had gone stunned him. Securing all of that history wasn't easy or cheap. "You wouldn't go to this much expense for a normal baby deal. What is so special about her?"
Sylvia Hopkins pursed her lips. "I don't know, and I didn't ask. I was given a series of instructions, and I carried them out." She rose from the chair and walked up to him, traced a finger over his jaw. "She's not dead, but you might as well consider her so. Tell your client whatever story you want, but take my advice and convince him she is." She snaked her gloved fingers into his hair, stood on tiptoe, and whispered in his ear, "It's safer for you. Safer for him. Safer for her."
Jason stood stock-still. This woman was a viper. If he made a wrong move, she'd strike.
Warm lips closed about his ear lobe. He suppressed an urge to shrink away from the unwelcome assault. She smelled of expensive perfume and cigarette smoke. It was cloying.
She pulled away, her brows knitting together. Her eyes lingered on his face and narrowed. "You really are queer,