“Something about a business opportunity. He said he was speaking with investors all day. Perhaps it has something to do with this...meeting...you have with him?”
“Perhaps.” Embray hesitated before adding, “I asked him to approach individuals he thought might be suitable for an endeavor I’m considering. You must be on his list of candidates.” Embray’s shoulders subtly stiffened. “I hope you don’t hold that business with Winchester against me. I had no idea he’d be so…confrontational. He told me he was curious about the cameras and since you produced them—” He broke with a shrug.
“It’s already been forgotten.” Clark’s smile grew even wider...and faker. He hesitated before adding carefully, “Although I must admit, I was surprised you even knew the fellow. A SEAL? You don’t dabble in military contracts. How did you meet him?”
Embray sighed and shook his head. “He’s the brother of a good friend. One I owe my life to. The meeting I arranged with you was payback on that life debt.” He paused, and his tone switched to disgust. “Trust me, I’ve expressed my disappointment in Winchester’s attitude. I hope that misguided blunder won’t color your view of the business Pembroke and I intend to discuss with you. I think you’ll find the meeting...intriguing.”
O’Neill kept his face expressionless, forcing himself not to look at Cosky or Cap to see how they were enjoying the performance playing out in front of them. Embray’s explanation was based on truth. Maybe that’s why their target bought it hook, line. and sinker. The smile that spread from Nantz’s eyes to his face was eager rather than fake this time.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” Nantz said as he stepped to the side. “As you mentioned, Lord Pembroke is the impatient sort. I look forward to our upcoming meeting and hearing about this mystery opportunity.”
“Pembroke and I will have the basics hammered out by the time we meet with you. I’ll explain the specifics, then.” Embray offered a final handshake and walked past, without introducing his entourage.
“You should get an Oscar for that performance,” Cosky murmured as they rode the elevator to the fifth floor.
Embray’s lips quirked. “At heart, business negotiations are a type of performance art. I’ve become quite adept at them through the years.”
“Nantz seemed quite taken with this Pembroke fellow,” O’Neill said.
“Pembroke’s title tends to impress many.” Embray’s tone was dry. “Including Lord Pembroke.”
The bell dinged and they stepped off. Cosky looked up and down the hallway before lowering his voice and leaning toward Embray. “How much did you tell Pembroke?”
“Just that I wanted to speak with Clark about a business prospect, but I didn’t want word to reach him personally, in case I changed my mind. Hence Pembroke setting up the meeting, to give me an out.” He paused to tug down the cuff of his suit and continued walking. “His Lordship detests Nantz and refused to join me for the upcoming meeting.”
“He won’t prove…difficult…when Nantz up and vanishes?” O’Neill kept his voice to a mummer, even though nobody was in the hall.
Embray shrugged. “He may question the timing, but he won’t do anything. Lord Pembroke is all about Lord Pembroke. Involving himself in Nantz’s disappearance would be …distasteful to him.”
Pembroke’s office was a suite at the very end of the hall. Embray stopped in front of a plain white door with a beveled glass window. He pushed a button along the wall to the right, and a buzzer sounded from inside.
The guy who opened the door looked like the very definition of a butler: black suit, white shirt, black tie, shoes, and socks. Which was odd. Wouldn’t this Pembroke dude have a secretary or executive assistant at his office? Or did his butler serve both roles?
“Leonard Embray here to see Lord Pembroke,” Embray intoned solemnly.
“Of course, Mr. Embray. His Lordship is expecting you.” The butler, or executive assistant, or whatever the hell he was, responded gravely.
The butler led them through a fussy foyer littered with uncomfortable looking furniture, down a short hall carpeted in some kind of tight tweed that didn’t leave footprints, and to an opaque door which sat at the end of the hall.
At the door, their guide knocked gently before opening it and stepping aside. “Leonard Embray has arrived, your Lordship.”
Across the room, in front of a window, stood a stick figure in a tailored black suit. He lifted his right arm, checking the watch strapped to his pointy wrist. Probably a Rolex or something equally pretentious and expensive.
“Embray, your timing is impeccable. I’m on my way to the club. When you’ve finished with this Nantz nonsense, please join me.”
His Lordship’s voice was nasal and clipped. The man himself looked exactly like he sounded—inbred and haughty. Hell, even the downward slant to his beaked nose looked arrogant.
“Now then, I’m off.” His spindly legs looked like they might collapse beneath him at any moment as he strolled toward the door. He stopped next to Embray with an absent sniff. “Help yourself to the Highland Park. I had Jives restock the bar.”
Jives? For Christ’s sake, the insufferable ass had a butler named Jives? How incredibly cliché.
Pembroke walked past O’Neill, Cosky, and Capland as if they didn’t exist. Not that O’Neill had expected anything different. A door slammed in the distance. The butler never returned.
“He’s gonna let us stay here, unsupervised? What if we make off with the nicknacks or liquor?” Simcosky’s voice dripped with mockery.
Embray’s laughed. “For some reason, Pembroke likes me. Even trusts me. I’m not sure why. His Lordship likes very few people.”
O’Neill wished he could run through their upcoming strategy with Simcosky and Capland, but they couldn’t afford to have their conversation recorded if Pembroke’s office was bugged. Five minutes prior to the meeting, they left Pembroke’s office, took the elevator down to the second floor, and followed the arrows along the walls to Nantz’s office.
