The Blood Promise: A Hugo Marston Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

kidding? Some is because I like playing with it, some to make sure no one stabs me in the back.”
    “I don’t follow.”
    “People come into my office and we talk. Then they leave my office and misquote me, misrepresent my position.” He shrugged. “I got sick of that happening.”
    “You bug your own office?”
    “Heavens no. I just record the conversations I have with people, to protect myself.”
    “Phones, too?”
    “Of course. I’m not stupid, I know there are people out there trying to trip me up. The closer you get to the top, the more that happens, believe me.” He looked out of the window. “This way I’m covered. Safe.”
    They drove in silence for a moment, then Lake turned to Hugo. “So, did you profile the people meeting us for dinner? Any psychos?”
    Hugo raised an eyebrow. “A few politicians, if that answers your question.”
    “Funny guy, Hugo, but yeah, it does. Seriously, I don’t know much about the people there, do you?”
    “Not really.” Hugo tried to recall the brief that his secretary Emma had given him. It was tucked in his overnight bag, but Emma had included insight as well as facts, which meant it was for Hugo’s eyes only. He recited the bits he could remember, the facts anyway. “The chateau is owned by Henri Tourville, been in his family for years. Centuries probably. He’s high up in the MAEE, roughly translated as the Ministry of Foreign and European Affairs.”
    “That guy I know. Spoke to him on the phone when I took Jonty Railton’s place, asked whether I preferred brandy or port. Felt it was like some kind of test.”
    “It probably was.”
    “You think?” Lake grimaced. “Anyway, he said his drinking buddy would be there, Felix or Victor someone.”
    “Felix Vibert. I don’t have my ministers and undersecretaries straight, but I gather he’s the brains behind the political power Tourville wields. They met while teaching at the Sorbonne—Tourville is a history buff and Vibert was a bigwig in international relations.” Hugo glanced across. “No offense, but shouldn’t you know who you’re dealing with?”
    “On the one hand, you’d think so. On the other hand, it’s a dinner party with, what, twenty people? Maybe thirty? And we’re talking about a pile of rocks in the Caribbean that you, as a member of the voting public, don’t seem to care about. I’m pretty good with people, Hugo, despite what you may have heard about me, and as far as personalities go, I’m confident I can wing it a little.” He paused and his tone changed. “Although I have heard a little about Tourville’s sister.”
    “Ah yes.” said Hugo. “Although I imagine she’s been misrepresented.” Emma had briefed him on the sister, too, in a way that tip-toed the line between informing and gossiping. She knew that Hugo disdained the latter, believing that salacious tattle, particularly among the upper echelons of society, was usually exaggerated if not completely wrong. And if factually correct, it was no one’s business anyway.
    “Turned her life around, do you think?” Lake said—a little sarcastically, Hugo thought.
    “You can ask her when we get there.”
    “Oh, come on, Hugo. In a room full of stuffed shirts, myself included, she could be the most interesting person there. She off limits to your intelligence briefing? Since you’re there to protect me, I doubt it.”
    Babysit , thought Hugo. “My brief relates to security, I think, not so much sexual trysts.”
    “More’s the pity.”
    And not entirely true. Hugo had wanted to know the background of everyone there and Emma hadn’t been able to resist some of the more scandalous details, delivered with a knowing smile and entirely designed to provoke Hugo into self-righteousness.
    The sister, Alexandra Catherine de Beaumont Tourville, or Alexie to her friends, had long been the black sheep of the Tourville family. Booted from several boarding schools for her antics, she managed to make her way to university