“I am a member of an organization that …” he hummed thoughtfully, “disseminates information. I gather it, and interested parties offer me trades to receive it.”
“People pay money for the secrets you steal from the government.”
He shrugged. “I cannot deny that some information does come from within governments. It is often those same governments that pay me for similar information, strangely enough.”
She wasn’t going to be tangled up in his subtleties. He stole and sold secrets, dangerous ones. And now he thought she owed him something. Too boldly, she said, “And you kill those who refuse to do your bidding.”
“Like any good gardener, I remove the weeds.” Bill’s lips stretched into a smile that shone in his eyes. “But I always leave behind sprouts with the potential to grow.”
Ignoring that strange smile, she asked, “How did you manage to kill Wells so quickly withMucor indicus?”
“A strange coincidence, that,” Bill replied. “It might have killed him if left to fester long enough. But I had access to something a little quicker. Nearly impossible to identify in the human body after just a few hours.”
A poison, no doubt. Saffron wet her dry lips. “Another secret you stole?” Bill only smiled. “Did you kill Petrov too?”
His sense of levity disappeared. “I did not kill Demian. I liked him, in fact. I think it a great pity he never found a solution to hisAristolochiaproblem.”
Saffron blinked, bewildered by the gentle bitterness in his tone. But she had no opportunity to ponder it.
Bill canted his head again toward the front door. A pale scar, thick and ugly, was notched just below his ear. “Ah.” He turned to the kitchen door. “Time to go,” he barked in a commanding tone.
The kitchen door opened, and the other man in a policeman’s uniform came out. He was tall but slender and wore a faint mustache. His hair was covered by a custodian’s helmet.
Bill took his own helmet from the table just inside the front door, donned it, and gave her a little bow. “I’ll be seeing you, Saffron. Good evening.”
They exited the flat. Indecision froze her in place. Did she telephone the police? Nick’s flat? Should she run after them, to try to see where they went?
She was still standing in the hall when the door flew open, and two men appeared in the frame.
Saffron stood in the hall, her face stark white. Guilt lashed Alexander. He’d all but kicked in the door, likely terrifying her. He was no better than the thugs who’d abducted him and Nick.
He’d been told what Saffron and Elizabeth had gone through: being tricked out of the flat by Colin Smith, forced to search the Path Lab again, and the strange conclusion with Sergeant Simpson. He ought to have been gentler about this.
But none of his feelings were gentle now. He stormed inside, not caring about Nick, standing just behind him, and took Saffron in his arms.
He buried his face into her neck and held her for a long time. His heart, which hadn’t stopped racing since he’d heard Colin had forced them into Alfie Tennison’s clutches, finally eased to its usual steady rhythm, and he came back to full awareness. They stood in the hall, and Saffron was stroking his back. She was saying the same thing over and over again, “I’m fine, Alexander. I’m fine.”
He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed. He’d thought he might die today. Saffron might have died, and he wouldn’t have been able to do a thing about it.
He’d known it for ages, maybe from the moment he stepped onto the ship to Brazil and felt he was making a terrible mistake leaving her behind. It was too soon and too late, but there was nothing else to say. Staring into her eyes, such a precious shade of blue, he said, “I love you.”
A strange emotion flickered in their depths before they filled with tears. Her breath caught on a sob. “I love you, Alexander. I’m so—”
He cut her off with a searing kiss. He ignored the burning ache of his shoulder and ribs, the twinges of his bruised nose, the stinging of the bandages chafing at his raw wrists. Nothing mattered but this.
Neither attempted to break apart for a long time. Eventually, Saffron pulled back enough to rest her forehead against his. He didn’t loosen his grip on her waist. He wasn’t going to be able to let her go for a long time. Maybe never.
“Alexander,” she whispered.
His whole body tensed up at the trepidation he saw in her eyes.
With a shuddering breath, she said, “I have to tell you about Bill.”
CHAPTER50
The building that housed Nick’s so-called office was in Westminster, an ugly sand-colored brick with minimal white stone flourishes around the windows and doors. When Nick had strolled in, cheerful as ever, and invited Saffron along to “wrap up a few loose ends,” she and Alexander had exchanged wary glances. It was nearly a week after she’d thought it was all over, save for whatever strangeness Bill’s promises ensured.
“That sounded rather ominous, didn’t it?” Nick chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean only that I’ll be speaking to a few of the scientists from the Path Lab and wanted you to sit in on the interviews to answer any questions I might have about the scientific aspects.”
