“Family?”
“Precisely. My contact at our Ministry of Immigration says that our guard is having certain difficulties in this area. Hopefully the coin I’ve offered him will be adequate to buy his silence.”
“In that case,” Christine said, “I can only see one small factor that I overlooked.”
“And what’s that?”
“Now I really do have to go to the bathroom.”
They shared the laugh and Christine lifted onto her toes once more and the intel and the inspector shared a second kiss, this one on their own time.
They separated, and a satisfied sigh later, Tran glanced across at the dance floor. “Look, it appears as if progress is being made elsewhere.”
Amanda Garrett still danced with Makara Harconan.
Amanda recalled a line from an old movie. Something about “Have you ever danced with the Devil in the pale moonlight?”
It was a novel sensation.
Likewise novel were the subtle differences between dancing with Makara Harconan and with one of her fellow officers. Certain intangible barriers born out of rank and professionalism did not exist. When this man held her, he might see her as an enemy but also as a woman. That she could recognize. There was no fear of the impropriety of his drawing her closer or shifting a hand with the hint of a caress.
There was a sensation of nakedness involved, of being stripped of layers of defense. Yet, as she moved in easy rhythm with the tall Eurasian, Amanda found this vulnerability only enhancing her own defiance. If one was going to dance with the Devil, one might as well savor the experience.
“Thank you again, Captain,” Harconan said as the music concluded. “Would you care to sit out this next set with a drink?”
“I’d like that.”
Amanda allowed herself to be guided to Harconan’s personal table, noting that they would be alone save for the waiter already standing by.
Around Makara Harconan, things didn’t have to be asked or called for: They seemed to simply happen effortlessly. Nothing ever just “happened,” of course. Deft organizational skills were at play here, as well as a meticulous attention to the smallest detail.
This was something to remember. A warrior often fought as he lived. She wondered what her own actions might reveal to Harconan.
The taipan held her chair, then took the seat across from her. Without a word being spoken, the waiter set a tall tulip glass at her place. Thanking him, she reached for it, then froze, her fingers not quite touching the glass.
It was a sherry and soda, her favored cocktail beverage, a fact she had mentioned to no one at the reception.
Harconan watched from across the snowy tablecloth, smiling slightly.
She broke her hesitation and took up the glass. “And thank you.”
She sipped. Yes, it was even her favorite brand of sherry. She admired the intelligence-gathering.
“My pleasure, Captain, and my honor.” Harconan took up his own drink, mineral water with lemon. Religion or strategy? Amanda wondered. Had he adopted the Islamic ways of the Bugis, or did he simply desire a clear head at all times? The taipan’s personal beliefs were something on which even Inspector Tran had no insight.
“When I learned you were coming to the archipelago,” he continued, “I knew I wanted you as my guest. You are a most remarkable individual.”
Amanda chuckled. “Why would you say that?”
It was Harconan’s turn to chuckle. “Would you deny your record of rather extraordinary accomplishments?”
Amanda frowned in thought. “Yes and no. I’ve been fortunate to command some excellent crews, and not so fortunate in that I’ve had to take them into harm’s way on occasion to serve my nation’s interests. Any number of other officers within my service could have done as well. Honor goes to the personnel I lead. As for myself, I am most extraordinarily average!”
Harconan laughed aloud this time, a genuine laugh, his even white teeth flashing. “Captain Garrett, we both know your charming humility is a polite fiction. You are a most unique woman, and we are both fully aware of that fact.”
Amanda couldn’t keep from smiling in response or lifting her head in challenge. “Why? Because I’m a woman and a naval officer? There’s nothing particularly remarkable about that anymore.”
“Agreed on that point,” he replied. “However, it is inconceivable that you could have ever become anything else.”
“How so?” Amanda inquired. This scenario was an intriguing one, as was the man. In her career she’d faced off against a number of strong and dynamic male opponents, but always across a battle theater, and never like this: eyes meeting across a table.
“There are many reasons,” Harconan continued. “For one, you are a warrior’s child, born of a line of warriors. The warrior’s flame burns true through the generations. Your father, Admiral Wilson Garrett, had no grown son to whom he could pass the spark, so it passed into your hands.”
Amanda felt her brows rise. Just how much did this man know about her?
Harconan touched the rim of his glass to his lips and answered her unspoken question. “Yet again: You are a sailor born of a line of sailors. You look to the sea to earn your living and to find your life’s duty. You also look to the sea for your pleasure. You scuba dive, you fish, you own a cruising sloop, and you’ve competed in offshore powerboat races.”
His voice softened, growing level, almost hypnotic. “You have never lived more than two miles away from the ocean in your life. You never will. You are physically and psychologically incapable of doing so. You would suffocate like a fish cast out on the land. The sea is in your blood. More than that, it is your blood.”
He leaned back in his chair. “This is something I can understand. I am this way myself.”
“You know a great deal about me.” Amanda said slowly. “What have I done to warrant this attention?”
Harconan shrugged. “You interest me, Captain, and I learn about things that interest me.”
“Apparently.” She was almost afraid to ask the next question, but she couldn’t not ask it. “What else have you learned?”
“One further critical factor: You command.”
“An aspect of my profession, Mr. Harconan.”
“Wrong!”
He put just enough sharpness into the word to startle her. He lifted a hand and aimed a finger at her heart. “You command as kismet demands that you command. Your profession merely takes advantage of the fact. Command is as much a part of you as the fire and the water. You are, by nature and by destiny, meant to rule and lead in the same way as the majority are meant to obey and follow.”
His voice softened to that hypnotic evenness again. “In the world where democracy is the current fad, that leaves you with either the military or commerce for your empire-building. By fastidious instinct, you dislike the miry waters of moneymaking, so you chose the clean cutting blade of the military. Save for one other potential, you have no other choice.”
Amanda noticed for the first time that Harconan had the eyes of his father’s people. They were dark gray and penetrating, and the way he used them on her put a wary but stimulating tingle down her spine. Damn, damn, damn, but she found she had to make one more pass closer to the flame.
“Interesting. I’ve never had my life assessed in quite that way before, Mr. Harconan. What’s the other potential career choice you believe I have?”
Harconan smile deepened.
“Queen,” he replied, and lifted his glass to her in salute.