Tommy studied the photo, slowly shook his head. “It looks like she’s on a hospital bed. Who is she?”
Rome’s voice was calm, calm as death. “You’re quite the actor, Tommy, but let’s cut to the chase. No more lies, no more playacting. This young woman is lying in St. George’s Hospital. And you know very well she is Adara Said, the only one of Elizabeth’s attackers who survived today.
“You knew you couldn’t ask your drug dealer Carlos to help you find people to kill Elizabeth. He liked her, probably had a crush on her. So where to go? And then you remembered the last imam was involved in Samir Basara’s plot to blow up St. Paul’s with your sister in it. Surely there were other jihadiststhere who would want to make a statement, kill an aristocrat, and make money as well. And if they failed, the mosque would take the blame, not you. I imagine you chanced to meet Adara there. She was young, beautiful, newly graduated from Oxford, smart as a whip, and the daughter of wealthy Syrians, above reproach. You didn’t approach the imam, no, you approached her and you had a plan.
“You made sure she found out fast just who and what you were—the son of the Earl of Camden—and of course her interest in you grew. You became lovers, didn’t you? It couldn’t have taken Adara long to realize if she played her cards right she might eventually become a countess, with control of more money than even her parents had, money she could do with as she pleased.
“I can see you luring her in, reinforcing her dreams, even driving her past Darlington Hall, describing its history to her, describing all the valuable furnishings and centuries-old artwork. I bet you whined to her it should all be yours, didn’t you? But as things stood, you wouldn’t get any money, it would all be your selfish sister’s, a bitch who didn’t care about anyone but herself, even slept with a Muslim, Samir Basara, to make fun of her family, your own sister, worth nothing at all, the only impediment to your happiness, to gain what was rightfully all yours. I’ll bet you promised you’d marry her if she arranged to get rid of this hated sister once and for all.”
Tommy grabbed Elizabeth’s hands, enclosed them in his. “Elizabeth, you can’t believe such a thing. It’s all a story, made up, why, I don’t know. But you must believe me, nothing he said is true. I’m your brother, I love you, I would protect you with my life. I don’t know this woman. You can’t believe this man, you hardly know him. He wants you and your money for himself.”
Elizabeth slowly pulled her hand away from her brother’s. Her voice was emotionless. “We showed Adara’s photo to your doorman, Clyde Bettin, when we came in. Of course Clyde isloyal, but with the encouragement of a gratuity, he told us he’d seen you with Adara going out the delivery entrance several times a week since you moved in. He admitted he wondered why you seemed to be hiding her. He told us he saw the two of you laughing and kissing outside a café just down the street one afternoon. He said you broke apart when you saw him, and he appreciated the ten-pound note you palmed him later that day.”
Rome said, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better to know Adara didn’t give you up when she was questioned at St. George’s, but it turned out she didn’t need to. You see, she let out something she couldn’t have known unless you told her. Something that should have been so insignificant, really, but wasn’t in this case. Only you, Tommy, only you knew Samir Basara gave Elizabeth the jewelry she sold to keep you in drugs and to keep you safe. Adara knew that, Tommy, because you told her.”
Tommy jumped to his feet and began pacing in front of them, back and forth. “Yes, all right, yes, I did know her. I met her through a friend, through Al, but I didn’t think Mother and Father would approve of my dating a Muslim, not after your fiasco with Samir Basara, Elizabeth, so we decided to keep out of sight for a while. Yes, she did want me to marry her, but whatever she did, I had no part in it. That’s the truth. You can’t believe this, Elizabeth, you must believe me, you must.”
Rome spoke over him in a calm, steady cadence. “At first, like Elizabeth, I didn’t want to believe her own brother would want to murder her. I know how much she’s always loved you, protected you, provided for you. Even when we arrived, we weren’t sure. There had to be an explanation. But the fact is you not only wanted to be reinstated so you’d inherit your share of your family fortune, that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted your sister’s inheritance as well. You wanted it all. So did Adara.”
They heard the front door open. Al’s voice called out, “Tommy, we’ve got trouble. Come here!”
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Rome slowly rose, turned to see Al come striding into the living room. He slipped his Glock out of its waist clip, hugged it to his leg. He said, “Come in and sit down, Al. Why don’t you tell us your real name? You’re no more Sicilian than I am.”
He stopped in his tracks, his eyes flying to Tommy’s face. Tommy said, “His name is Jalal. He’s a friend of Adara’s and, I thought, of mine.”
Jalal was silent for a long moment, studied their faces.
Rome said, “You need a better tailor, Jalal. I can see your gun.” He raised his Glock. “Reach your left hand into your jacket and pull out your weapon. Carefully place it on the floor.”
Jalal didn’t say a word. His eyes never left Rome’s face. He slowly pulled a Beretta out of its shoulder holster, laid it on the floor, and straightened.
Elizabeth said slowly, “Do you know, Jalal, I’ve had nightmares about that night you attacked me many times over the past three months. I heard your voice over and over again. And then I heard it again, when we chanced to meet you here yesterday, but it didn’t register. Then just now? Yes, I recognize you, loud and clear. Who else was with you that night? Adara? But you were the one who held me down and wanted to cut my face. You were the one who threw your knife into Officer Bewley’s chest.” She looked back at her brother, who was standing motionless.
Rome said, “You left so quickly when we came yesterday because you were afraid Elizabeth might remember your voice.”
Elizabeth looked at Jalal’s fisted hand, at the ring on his middle finger. “That first time, the afternoon at Eaton Square, I was carrying a bag of groceries, alone, and you thought it was a perfect opportunity to run me down. I know it was you driving that day, too, Jalal. You’re wearing the same ring. I remember it well.”
Jalal looked down at the ring his grandfather had placed on his finger at thirteen, the ring that proclaimed he was a man. Bile and rage mixed in his throat.
Rome said, “You failed, and then Elizabeth left England. I have to admit I’m impressed with your commitment, though not with your competence. I imagine it was Adara who contacted the people in Washington who tried yet again, once Elizabeth left Hurley Janklov’s compound.”
Tommy said, “Listen, Elizabeth, I know that sounds bad, but if this man and his friends tried to harm you, it’s on them, not me.”
Rome never looked away from Jalal as he said, “Tell us, Tommy, did you and Adara discuss killing your father, perhaps a year or two after you were married?”
Tommy shook his fist in Rome’s face. “How dare you, you bastard, you bloody American! Your accusations are absurd. Don’t listen to him, Elizabeth. Adara, whatever she did, she did it alone, without my knowledge or consent. You have to believe me.”
Jalal finally spoke, yelling at him, “You fool, shut up!”
“I’m not a fool! Elizabeth, I know nothing about what these people did, and Adara—it must have been her idea. She wanted to marry me, have all the inheritance. It was my fault. I thought Adara loved me. I wouldn’t have married her, ever; she’s not of our class. She’s not English. This is all on her. You must believe me, I would never agree to killing you. Never. You took careof me for years. I always knew how much you loved me. I’ve always looked up to you. You know that.”
Elizabeth felt tears sting her eyes, swallowed. She said quietly, “It’s over, Tommy. We’re going to call Mr. Eiserly. They’ll come and arrest you both. You’ve broken my heart, Tommy, our parents’ hearts.”
Tommy straightened, and suddenly, he laughed, right in her face. “I suppose I was spoiled, a proper little shite. And yes, I did make the wrong sort of friends at Oxford, dear sister. But my friends didn’t get me hooked on cocaine. I did that myself, and I reveled in it. I couldn’t stop, didn’t ever want to stop.”
He laughed again. “But there you were, Elizabeth, always there, always ready to take care of me. You didn’t think I knew you took gifts from that hired assassin Samir Basara, pawned them to ensure I had drugs, but Carlos knew, and he told me. He meant to impress me with how good you were to me.”
