The Spy Is Cast (9 page)

Kane was waiting for
me in the foyer. I glided over the slippery marble tiles,
concentrating fiercely on looking lithe and relaxed while keeping
my footing in the high heels. Apparently I succeeded, because he
eyed me appreciatively as I joined him. Or maybe he was just a
really good actor. I decided to call it a success regardless.

I took his proffered
arm and we paused at the entrance of the enormous dining room. The
two large men were in evidence again, but they had split up,
hovering on opposite sides of the room. Their hard eyes searched
the crowd. Kane’s gaze drifted over them without a change of
expression, and I knew he was noting every detail of the room and
the crowd as well, but far less obtrusively than Harchman’s
minions.

“Nothing like a nice,
intimate dinner for a hundred or so of your closest friends,” I
whispered. “I wonder if the Harchmans actually live here, or if
they secretly go to their real house when the party’s over.”

Kane chuckled, looking
and sounding completely at ease. “This is their real house.”

I shook my head in
disbelief.

We took seats at a
table near the edge of the room, our backs to the wall, and I
resisted the urge to kick the shoes off my sore feet. I almost
never wear high heels, but I’m smart enough to know that if you
ever take them off, it’s really damn hard to put them back on again
for the rest of the night.

I focused on keeping
my back straight and my knees together. The acrylic nails felt
thick and foreign, and I folded my hands casually in my lap, trying
to abstain from picking at them.

“Talk to me,” I
whispered to Kane. “I’m losing it. If I don’t concentrate on
conversation, I’m going to get sucked into the network. And I’ll
create a simulation of me in my coveralls drinking beer and
tinkering with one of my cars.” The image was so inviting that I
smiled, relaxing unconsciously.

I nearly leaped out of
my skin at the bite on my earlobe. “Aydan!” Kane’s baritone growled
in my ear. “Stay focused!”

I jerked up straight
again, my heart pounding with the realization that I’d almost blown
my cover.

Well, the heart rate
might also be related to the fact that a very sexy man had just
nibbled my ear. I met his eyes, looking deeply and letting him see
some of my reaction.

“You’ve got my
attention,” I murmured.

His eyes dilated, but
he gave his head a quick shake as he leaned back in his chair. “Are
you still renovating your house?” he asked casually. “Did you ever
finish that bathroom?”

I switched gears to
polite conversation. “I finished the ensuite I was working on in
March. Now my main one is starting to have little problems here and
there. I’m not sure whether I’ll tackle it this summer or not. I’m
pretty busy with my garden and outdoor work.”

We made innocuous
small talk until three other couples joined us at our round table.
I concentrated on the introductions and the impersonal conversation
that followed until the first course was served.

As Kane had promised,
the food was truly superb. A rich lobster bisque was followed by a
light, crisp salad with hints of tropical fruit. A small portion of
delicate roasted butternut squash ravioli followed in a sumptuous
cream sauce. Our empty plates were whisked away, and a tomato and
sage sorbet arrived, cleansing our palates for the next course.

I felt Kane’s gaze on
me, and glanced up to catch him observing me with amusement. I
grinned back. “I’m beginning to feel compensated for my suffering,”
I joked softly.

I turned back to my
plate to give the roast lamb and vegetable mousse the attention it
deserved, and made a valiant effort to stay engaged in the
conversation, privately wishing everybody would just shut up and
let me enjoy the meal. A delectable cheese course came and went,
and while the hazelnut crème brulée and coffee were being served,
Harchman began the software presentation.

I listened with half
an ear. Most of the technology and jargon went over my head, so I
occupied myself instead by surreptitiously people-watching.
Harchman was an uninspired speaker, but his presentation was
mercifully short. After a question period, the tables were cleared
off, and we were invited to the salon for after-dinner drinks.

The salon proved to be
a slightly smaller version of the cavernous dining room, and guests
circulated comfortably around yet another bar. After a while, I
manoeuvred Kane into a corner and leaned close, slipping my arm
around him. It seemed the network was being broadcast throughout
the entire house, because once again I ducked in and then quickly
out.

Grateful for the
string quartet sawing away next to us, I didn’t even try to
suppress my involuntary cry of distress when I re-entered the real
world. When the punishing pain receded, I realized Kane held me
crushed against him with one arm. His other hand supported my head
while he trailed hungry kisses over my throat. I regained my
balance with difficulty, slipping my arms around his neck. His grip
loosened and we gazed into each other’s eyes from close range.

“You sure give a girl
mixed messages,” I joked.

I felt the strain
leave his shoulders as he smiled down at me. “You went down like a
ton of bricks that time,” he muttered against my neck. “Took me by
surprise. Are you all right?”

“Just the usual,” I
whispered back. “It hurts a little more each time, when I go in and
out frequently like this.”

He drew back to look
into my eyes. “You need to stop, then. I won’t be able to cover if
it gets any worse.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a
break.”

He released me and I
stepped back. As I did, the two black-clad men interposed
themselves between us and greeted Kane pleasantly. Kane caught my
eye and I turned to stroll away, responding to his almost
imperceptible signal.

I jerked back when I
came chest to face with Harchman. Judging by his fixed stare, he
had no complaint.

“Lawrence,” I gushed.
“Your presentation was fascinating. You’re such a masterful
speaker.” I suffered a momentary pang of apprehension that a bolt
of lightning would strike me dead, but nothing happened. Maybe the
gods thought it was all for a good cause.

His puny chest puffed
up. God save me from man boobs.

He moistly clutched my
hand. “Thank you, my dear. And now I’d like to give you that tour I
promised.”

I gave him my best
dazzling smile. “That would be wonderful. I’ll get John.” I turned
and beckoned to Kane, who was still involved in conversation. He
made a move toward me, but one of the men grasped his arm. He
frowned and the man let go, but as Kane stepped forward, both men
blocked his path again.

Harchman watched the
interchange with a smirk. “I took the liberty of making sure your
husband would be occupied. I’m sure we’ll enjoy our tour much more
without him.”

A cold, slow trickle
of apprehension oozed down my spine. “Oh, but he’ll be so
disappointed if he doesn’t get to see your beautiful home,” I
argued lightly. “Architecture is one of his greatest hobbies.”

Harchman shrugged.
“Beautiful women are one of my greatest hobbies. And I find
husbands hamper my enjoyment of that hobby.” He took my elbow,
sliding his hand intimately up my arm and grazing my breast. “Come,
my dear.”

Trying to hide my
fear, I glanced over at Kane again. Both men were blocking his
path, and it was clear that short of a physical altercation, he
wouldn’t be able to break free. I couldn’t even make eye contact
with him anymore.

Not knowing what else
to do, I let Harchman draw me away. I didn’t dare make a scene and
blow our cover, if it wasn’t already blown. I swallowed hard and
concentrated on keeping my posture relaxed, drawing a deep breath
in an attempt to slow my racing pulse.

Please let him be just
a garden-variety pervert. God, please don’t let him be like the
soulless animals who’d captured me before…

I pasted on a smile
and nodded with as much interest as I could fake while he talked,
guiding me further away from the crowd, down an empty hallway and
into the private area of the house. While we made our way deeper
into the labyrinth, I did my best to pay attention to the details
Kane had mentioned in our strategy session.

At least I was getting
to see the house. If I managed to escape… no, dammit, calm down. I
was fine. Everything was going to be fine.
When
I saw Kane
again, I could pass on information about the layout.

Fortunately, Harchman
didn’t seem to require any actual conversational input from me. As
long as I nodded and exclaimed and looked worshipful, he kept
babbling and showing me through the house.

Kane’s earlier mention
of Harchman’s roving eyes proved to be incomplete. He also had
roving hands. Icky, sweaty, roving hands. I avoided them when I
could and tolerated the rest, pretending fascination with his
self-important monologue. I began to relax as time passed. So far,
it seemed Harchman was just a harmless asshole.

He turned suddenly and
I backed away a step, fetching up against the wall behind me. He
leaned close, his moist hand sliding down from my waist to my
thigh.

“Would you like to see
something really exciting?” he asked fervently.

I clutched his wayward
hand in both of my own, feigning eagerness. “Oh, yes,
Lawrence!”

He gave me an oily
smile as he placed his thumb on a scanner beside the door next to
us. When the latch released, he swung the door open, gesturing me
inside and copping a feel when I stepped in front of him.

“The nerve centre of
the house,” he exclaimed proudly.

I scanned the banks of
servers and monitors, my heart pounding. Could the server for the
brainwave-driven network be in here? I turned back to Harchman,
fiddling with his bow tie and trailing my fingertips down his
pathetic chest.

“Oh, Lawrence! This
looks so complicated! What does it all do?” I breathed.

I was punished for my
enthusiasm when he locked both hands on my ass and ground his
crotch against me. He was so much shorter than I that my thigh was
all he could reach, but the sensation was revolting
nevertheless.

I pulled away,
clutching his hand and dragging him toward the nearest terminal.
“What does this one do?”

“Everything in the
house is controlled from here,” he said with a grand flourish of
his pudgy hand. “All the security cameras, networks, internet,
climate control, everything.”

I read between the
lines. He didn’t have a clue.

A large man rose from
behind one of the banks of servers. “Mr. Harchman,” he said
deferentially.

“This is the security
station,” Harchman burbled, pulling me forward. I eagerly surveyed
the screens, doing a quick count of displays and trying to identify
the camera locations from their point of view. “Everything is
monitored twenty-four hours a day,” he continued, puffed up with
his own importance.

I plastered on what I
hoped was an ingenuous expression of wide-eyed awe. “This is so
impressive. But how do you stay comfortable knowing that you’re
surrounded by forest, so far away from the city? What if you needed
the police?”

Harchman patted my
hand. “I employ my own security detail. The entire perimeter is
patrolled by guards and dogs. I can afford whatever protection I
need.” He slid his hand over my ass again as he guided me back
toward the door.

A dumpy black-haired
woman in a baggy grey sweatsuit popped into the doorway.

“Larry!” she barked,
her black brows snapping together in an unflattering scowl. “What
the hell are you doing?”

“Maria, darling,”
Harchman responded smoothly, mercifully removing his hand. “You
know I prefer you to call me Lawrence.”

“How about if I just
call you a lying, cheating pig?” she snarled. “Get your disgusting
floozy out of here!”

“Now, darling,”
Harchman replied, apparently unfazed. “I was just offering one of
our guests a tour. She’s very interested in interior
decorating.”

“Well, she can go and
be interested somewhere else. You have ten seconds to get her out
of here, or I’ll call one of your precious security guards and have
them drag her out. Your choice.”

Harchman took my arm.
“I’m sorry, but we’ll have to cut our tour short. My wife suffers
from migraine headaches, and she’s not at her best right now.” He
ushered me past the glowering woman.

“And keep your hands
off her ass!” Maria screeched as we turned the corner. “You
disgusting pig!”

For a woman with a
migraine, she had remarkably good vocal projection.

We took a direct route
back through the immense house, and Harchman kept his hands more or
less to himself. Soon I heard the murmur of conversation, and we
arrived at the salon by another door. Stepping gratefully into the
crowded room again, I turned to offer an insincere thank you to
Harchman for the tour but he had already lost interest. He vanished
into the crowd without a backward glance, shaking hands and
greeting people.

I let out a heartfelt
sigh and scanned the crush of guests for Kane. Standing head and
shoulders taller than most of the people there, he should have been
easy to spot, but he was nowhere to be seen. My relief vanished and
worry flooded in to take its place. What if the two men had taken
him? What if he was being tortured, or if he was lying dead even
now?

I took a deep breath
to calm my racing heart and moved nonchalantly through the crowd,
heading for the front door. As I walked, I scoured the room with my
eyes, hoping against hope.

I controlled my panic
with an effort as I stepped outside and strained my eyes in the
twilight. The grounds were illuminated by a fairyland of tiny white
lights, and the effect would have been enchanting if I hadn’t been
desperately searching for one tall, broad-shouldered figure. I
could make out small knots and couples of party guests here and
there on the grounds, but it was too dim to identify anyone.