Randy White - Black Widow

The woman said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, James.”

“Really? Then why the flushed face?” He looked at me. “Senegal turns the color of a pale rose whenever she’s excited-”

“Hooker!”

“I was about to say, when you’re excited and upset, if you’d only let me finish. At any rate, I strongly advise that you two postpone further sniffing until we’ve discussed our mutual problem. Afterward, we can talk about-” He abandoned the sentence, and smiled as our server approached, carrying a drink on a tray. “Oh, God bless you for this, Rafick. Hair of the dog-exactly what the doctor ordered.”

Two Bloody Marys later, Sir James dropped his napkin on the table and picked up his pipe. “All righty, then! Dr. Ford, I suggest you tell Senny what you’re doing on Saint Lucia. Hear him out, dear girl, then you can decide whether to hate him and send him away, or to trust him and let him help with our little problem.”

Senegal Firth’s little problem had nothing to do with the photos published in a French magazine. Her problem was that a hidden camera had filmed her during an “injudicious evening” inside the mountain villa she’d rented while vacationing alone on Saint Arc less than a year ago.

The blackmailer had contacted her a month before the elections and threatened to send a copy of the video to her husband, another to the London Times, and also to post it on Internet pornography sites if she didn’t pay four million pounds into a Bank of Aruba account.

“It’s the same blackmailer who went after your goddaughter,” Sir James said. “Same modus operandi. I’m assembling a list of victims. Senny certainly was not the first, and your goddaughter will not be the last. That’s why we have to nail the buggers to the wall and cut their heads off.”

The woman said, “Hooker,” with an expression of distaste. “No need to be gruesome, is there?”

Montbard said, “There’s every reason to be gruesome. We are dealing with people who are absolutely ruthless. Ford? Tell her what would’ve happened to those four American women last night if you hadn’t come along.”

I said, “Honestly? I think the women would’ve scared the guys off without my help. They were a tough bunch.”

“Frighten three men who were armed with knives? Please.”

Senegal looked sickened, asking, “Men with knives?” as Montbard said, “Bullocks. I saw what happened with my own eyes. If you won’t tell her, I will.”

He did, minus a few details I hadn’t shared with him last night on Jade Mountain as he’d sipped his third whiskey, and I’d switched from Singapore Slings to the local Piton Beer over ice.

When he was done, Firth said, “They would’ve murdered the women? You’re serious.”

I weighed the probabilities before saying, “Were they capable of murder? That’s tough to say. Murder’s the sort of thing that’s easy to talk about, but very few people can actually do.”

“Do you really believe that?”

I looked at Sir James to see his reaction-it would tell me a lot about him. I realized he was looking at me for the same reason. “Dr. Ford clearly has some knowledge of the subject-” The man cleared his throat. “-the academic sort, of course. The military has done studies. In the second war, fewer than twenty percent of our boys could bring themselves to pull the trigger even when under attack. One percent of our pilots accounted for forty percent of enemy planes shot down. It’s a rare bird who can truly do the deed. But some people seem born to it.”

I looked at Senegal. “Maybe they were. From what I overheard, it wouldn’t be the first time. I think it would’ve depended on how the women reacted. Sexual predators in a pack behave differently than a predator operating alone.”

“That’s true,” she said, interested, but also evaluating my words-she was the expert, not me. She’d helped draft laws on the subject.

“Packs target the weak. If the women had tried to humor them, we might be reading about a multiple homicide in tomorrow’s paper. But if they’d fought back, I think the men would’ve found an excuse to run. There was nothing to gain financially. It was all ego.”

Firth said, “Three men. Unusual,” as if processing new information. “Could you describe the men if you had to?”

“I can describe them whether I have to or not. But Sir James has photos. You haven’t seen them?”

“Yes. But the photos aren’t very clear. They’re… not lifelike. Would you mind?”

I noticed Sir James watching the woman as I described the men. When I was done, I also noticed him inhale and sigh when Senegal said, “There are some vague similarities. But nothing really rings a bell.”

Was she lying?

I said, “Then let’s compare notes. The night you were secretly videoed-how would you describe the man?”

Firth’s chin lifted as she took a butter knife into her hand and began drumming the tip on her place mat. “Unfortunately, I can’t answer that question with any certainty. That’s one of the hurdles Sir James and I have been dealing with.”

“I don’t understand.”

Looking pained, Montbard interceded, “Senegal was going through a very rough patch in her marriage. You’d been married to Harold for how long?”

In a flat voice, the woman answered, “Fourteen years.”

“Fourteen years, right. She was just putting together her campaign team when Senny discovered her husband was…” He turned to the woman. “Do you mind if I share the story, dear? I think we can trust Dr. Ford. It’s important that he have all the data, but if you’d rather I not-”

Firth didn’t look up from her teacup. “Go ahead. Doesn’t bother me in the least now.”

Clearly, it did.

Montbard and I exchanged looks before he continued, “Turned out, her husband was having an affair with one of her old college chums. It was a terrible shock, as you can imagine. I was the one who advised her to take a couple of weeks off and fly to the Caribbean.” He looked at the woman. “A bit of punk advice, that. Sorry, love.”

Firth said, “I make no apologies for the decisions I’ve made in my life. What I deeply regret is putting myself in a position where I have no control-and that’s what happened.

“I cannot describe the man I was with with any clarity, Dr. Ford. I was hurt and angry and alone. He knocked on the door, asking for directions. I invited him in. It was after sunset, but it wasn’t late. We started chatting. He spoke French, which made the situation feel safer for some reason. I hesitated when he offered to make drinks, and he must have sensed what I was thinking, because he laughed and told me I was being silly. I don’t know why in the world I didn’t order him out of the house then! But I didn’t. That’s the last thing I remember clearly. I was an idiot. My marriage had ended long before I vacationed on Saint Arc. But I still feel like an idiot.”

I said, “You aren’t. You were targeted. Sir James is right-they’re expert at what they do. They demanded a quarter million dollars from my goddaughter. She doesn’t have that kind of money personally. But she’s successful enough, she can pay it off in installments, and that’s what they’re now demanding. I think they research their targets carefully. What about you? Four million pounds is, what? About eight million U.S.?”

Firth nodded. “I couldn’t possibly come up with that much moneynot in a month, not in a year, not in twenty years.”

“Then the blackmailer didn’t really expect you to pay. He timed it to sabotage your campaign. Why?”

Firth gave me a look that seemed to say, Smart. But I wasn’t asking anything she hadn’t already thought about.