Authors: Marilyn Campbell
Topaz Dreams (10 page)
Steve felt her stomach tighten a little. She had
already decided to have him checked out, and maybe they could help each
other find Underwood. It was the man, Falcon, not the agent, who made
her question the sensibility of such a plan. He made her feel and think
things she had consciously chosen to shut out since her divorce. "You
mean for the duration?"
"It is reasonable."
Several times on the
way to Las Vegas, Steve contemplated starting a conversation and
changed her mind. For one thing, Falcon did not show any interest in
talking. For another, she was not at all sure she wanted to promote
communication with a man who made her remember that she was a woman.
Lastly, if he was not really an agent, she did not care about anything
else he had to say because it would probably be a lie, too.
They
delivered the van to the phone company's service building in Las Vegas
and, after telling Falcon to wait for her outside, Steve found a pay
phone inside the building to call Dokes. It did not take long to bring
him up to date.
"I can't say I'm surprised," Dokes replied when
Steve finished speaking. "I warned you Underwood seems to have a sixth
sense about these things. When I made all my calls last night, I asked
everyone to let me know if they hear anything about a time or place
where he's expected to show up. Plus, I put out a few feelers in the
civilian corner today. Considering all the businesses he owns, there
must be something he attends to personally. Where can I call you if we
come up with anything solid?"
"Before I answer that, I need you to
check on something for me. The guy I described to you last night turned
up in the desert today. His ID says he's Interpol. Name, A. Falcon. I
tend to believe it, but I'd like confirmation. He's after Underwood,
too. Either I work with him or run the risk of his getting in my way,
unless he's not on the level."
She agreed to wait by the phone while
Dokes contacted Interpol. It took about a half-hour for Dokes to call
back, but Falcon never came inside to question the wait, a small favor
for which Steve was grateful.
Dokes confirmed Falcon's identity and
description. "The person I talked to didn't know him personally or very
much about his assignment. Apparently, it's highly confidential. In
fact, it sounds like you know more about what he's doing than they do.
I'd hate to see them get the drop on us on this one. Work with him,
Steve. It's the only recommendation I can make under the circumstances.
Since he suggested it to begin with, there should be no problem, but
keep a close eye on him anyway. Look at it this way, if anything goes
wrong, we can always blame Interpol!" Dokes laughed and Steve joined
him, knowing there was more than a grain of truth to his joke.
As
long as Falcon agreed with what she had already decided to do, she
concocted a way to keep her bird of prey under her wing. He might be
legitimate, and her little voice might tell her she was safe with him,
but that did not mean she could trust him not to double cross her.
Steve did not want to risk his taking off ahead of her, leaving her
holding nothing but excuses. If she returned home to San Francisco, he
would be free to go his own way.
"Listen, Lou, I have an idea or two
on how to handle this Falcon character, and I can accomplish it easier
if we stay here for tonight. Ill give you a call later to let you know
what hotel we're in. Hopefully, you'll come up with a new lead by
morning."
"Fine. Be good, Steve," he said with an unprofessional send-off.
Steve
made one more call to her mother to let her know she would not be home,
and spoke at length with her children. She had not spent a night away
from them in over six months, but guilt pressed heavily on her anyway.
They could always call Uncle Lou if they needed anything before she
called again.
After weighing several ideas of where they could spend
the night, she picked a hotel that might even be some fun. Falcon
complacently agreed with her plan when Steve explained that Lou
expected to have something better for them to do than revisit the first
Miss Preston, and it would be more efficient to stay put in the
meantime.
A few minutes later they were in a cab on the way to the famous Las Vegas Strip.
"Falcon, are you wearing contacts?"
"Contacts?" he returned cautiously.
"Contact lenses. In your eyes, What is it, do you have another name for them in Wales?"
"Oh, my lenses. Yes. I did not realize they were noticeable."
"They're
not, really, but I've seen how you keep rubbing your eyelids like one
of my friends does when his lenses start irritating him, and your eyes
are a little bloodshot, too. Don't you have some drops you can use?"
Steve had no doubt that she had managed to fluster the unflappable
agent. He must be more vain than she guessed if it embarrassed him to
have someone know he wore contacts.
"No, I... forgot to bring ... drops."
The
cab dropped them off in front of the Mirage Hotel. On the way into the
lobby Steve suggested, "Look, why don't you go by the gift shop and buy
some eyedrops. They will soothe your eyes until you can take the lenses
out later. By the time you get back, I'll have us both checked in."
A
loud roar stopped Steve in her tracks, but Falcon continued on directly
to the source. There in the lobby were two magnificent white tigers in
a glass cage. The closer Falcon got to them, the louder they roared.
Catching
up to him, Steve commented, "They're beautiful, aren't they? But so
noisy! It's almost like they're trying to tell you something."
Falcon turned to her and almost smiled. "I will look for the eyedrops now."
As
he walked away, Steve congratulated herself. Except for his one show of
defiance in the desert, Falcon was proving to be quite malleable. A
second surprise awaited her at the registration counter. Behind the
employees was a glass wall through which Steve could see a man-eating
shark swimming back and forth. Only in Las Vegas! she thought wryly.
When
Falcon returned carrying a small paper bag, she held up a key and gave
him an apologetic look. "They only had one room available. There's a
couple of big conventions in town and not a decent room left. We were
lucky to get this one. They assured me it has two beds, and I figured
if I didn't mind, you shouldn't. Okay?" She was worried that her
nervousness about the sleeping arrangements would make her lie about
the available rooms sound false.
Steve intended to keep him within
sight, even if it meant sacrificing her privacy. Hah! Who are you
kidding, Steve? By sternly reminding herself to keep her mind on the
case, she managed to banish the images she conjured up at the thought
of spending the night in the same room with Falcon.
He looked
directly into her eyes for several long seconds. Although she could not
tell what he was thinking, she had the uneasy sensation that he knew
she was lying, but once again he nodded his agreement without uttering
a word.
Steve wanted to dispel the uncomfortable feeling quickly.
"As soon as we've dropped our bags in the room, I'll let Lou know where
we are, then we can have some fun. I think it's my duty as an American
to show a visiting official a good time. You've never been to Vegas
have you?"
"No, I have not."
"Good! You're in for a real treat then!"
Underwood took another glance at the fuzzy videotapes of the man and
woman who had appeared in his two California offices. Miss Preston was
correct in that the woman was almost unrecognizable in her disguises,
obviously a professional. Only the audacity of her two performances
gave any clue that something was in the wind. The man had made no
attempt to change his appearance, and his excuses for being in the two
offices were extremely flimsy. He was either an amateur or over
confident of his abilities. It did not really matter. Between the two
of them, Underwood knew now that someone was looking for him.
It had
taken the last three hours, considerable use of his computers and a
handful of phone calls, but he had learned who they were and what one
of them was up to. Private Investigator Stephanie Barbanell was indeed
working on the Nesterman case. Apparently, Nesterman had managed to
leave a clue behind that pointed to Underwood in some way. But it could
not be a very revealing one, since it took six weeks to uncover it,
then turn it over to a private agency instead of the police.
The man
was A. Falcon, an Interpol agent, on special assignment in the United
States. Unfortunately, none of Underwood's contacts could come up with
more than that, although they promised to keep trying. Interpol! What
could they want? He was involved in too many deals in too many
countries to narrow the possibilities down without more information.
Usually,
Miss Preston's instincts were exceptional when it came to protecting
him. The fact that the two agents did not appear to know each other did
not rule out the possibility that they were working on the same case.
Underwood decided it was time to have another chat with Nesterman, and
find out what projects the scientist had been working on before he was
brought to Alaska. If he was involved in a government project, that
might help piece the puzzle together.
In the meantime Underwood
needed more time with Nesterman. Each day brought him closer to
convincing the computer whiz that he had been justified in his actions.
Delphina's appearance had almost won Nesterman over. Underwood was
certain that if another of her people could be lured in, one with
superior knowledge or powers, Nesterman would realize the importance of
what they were doing and become an ally rather than an enemy. He firmly
believed another alien would be arriving any day now.
With two
different detectives trying to locate him, though, Underwood knew he
could only stay hidden for so long, and he did not want to risk moving
Delphina from Alaska. He assumed it would be easier for her people to
find her if he kept her where she had appeared. Underwood needed to
keep his pursuers running around in circles for a while longer. This
could be accomplished by throwing out a few deceptive crumbs for them
to follow, combined with a little sleight of hand to keep them
interested.
He made a call to Miss Preston to give her his
instructions for the misdirection of Barbanell and Falcon. For the
magic he summoned King.
can't believe you've never been to Monte Carlo!" Steve teased. "Here I
thought all of you international agents hung around glittery casinos
wearing tuxedos and looking debonair like James Bond."
"James Bond?" Falcon looked at her curiously.
"You know, Double-O-Seven! Geez, don't they give you time off to go to-the movies over there?"
"Oh, yes, the movies."
Steve
had the distinct impression he still had no idea what she was talking
about. But this guy never seemed to understand what she was saying. His
speech, what little there was of it, was extremely stilted. Perhaps she
should try to use a little less slang, for his sake. Then again, what
did it matter if they did not speak exactly the same language? They
would only be together until they got the job done.
"Well, here we
are," Steve said with a wave of her hand toward the brightly lit
casino. "Las Vegas is known for its extravagance and neon lights. Some
of the places get downright tacky, but this place is one of the nicer
ones. The tables will be honest, too. What would you like to try?"
"I will leave it to you, Steve. I am not familiar with these games."
"I'm
not much of a gambler myself, but I know enough to show you around. The
one-arm bandits are my favorite. Worst odds in the house, but even a
complete amateur can try them. Watch some of the people playing for a
minute while I break a twenty for some silver dollars."
Steve left
Falcon staring intently at the whirring machines. In the next row
someone had gotten lucky, as evidenced by the loud ringing bell,
flashing lights, and clinking of coins into the metal tray.
When
Steve returned, it took her only a few seconds to spot Falcon. He was
listening to a buxom cocktail waitress in a skimpy costume, who seemed
to be offering him much more than a drink. Steve had changed into the
purple sweater dress, as it was the only appropriate thing she had with
her. Even so, the waitress's blatant charms left her feeling somewhat
insignificant. Falcon, on the other hand, was so attractive and
dangerously male in his all black attire, every woman in the area
paused to sneak a peak at him or openly ogle. One elderly woman next to
Steve asked her if she knew his name, certain he was a famous movie
star. Just then Falcon turned and walked to where she was standing, as
if he had known she was there all along. Steve could not resist a
gloating smile toward the waitress and a wink at the older woman. They
did not need to know there was nothing between them.
Falcon looked
slightly confused when he reached her. "I understand how the machine
works now. You were right about the odds. Why would you put your money
into such a unit?"
Steve laughed. "For the fun of it, I guess. And the chance that it's my turn to hit the jackpot."
"Would that make you happy, Steve? To hit the jackpot?"
"Are
you kidding? I'd be happy to win enough to buy groceries next week. You
can't imagine how much it costs to keep my family fed." Suddenly she
realized how presumptive that sounded. "I'm sorry, Falcon. For some
reason I assumed you don't have a family of your own to feed."
"I do not."
Steve
knew she should let it lie, but she could not resist the urge to be
certain. "You're not married, or anything?" Falcon was looking at her
strangely again, and she felt her cheeks flush.
"I am not married... or anything, Steve."
How
did he make a simple name like Steve sound so sexy? She had to stop
reacting to everything this man did. Steve turned away from him, put a
dollar in the machine in front of her, and yanked on the arm harder
than necessary. The colored fruits spun madly inside the glass window,
finally stopping on an orange, a banana, and a black bar. Steve
shrugged and began to insert another coin into the same machine when
Falcon stopped her.
"Not that one. You will lose again. Come." He touched her elbow and led her slowly down one row and up another. "This one."
Steve
smiled. "Another feeling, Falcon? Oh, well, your choice is probably
better than mine—beginner's luck and all that. Would you like to pull
the arm since you picked the machine?"
He shook his head no, but placed one hand on the side of the machine and concentrated on the blurred pictures.
One bar. Double bars. Triple bars. Bells clanged! Lights flashed!
Steve let out a squeal and threw herself against Falcon, giving him a strangling hug.
"I
won! I won! I can't believe it! Thank you!" Steve realized she was
choking him and quickly released her hold around his neck. It made her
instantly aware of the secure hold he had on her in return, and the
strength radiating from the length of his body pressed close to hers.
Steve's heart was pounding from the excitement of the win, yet she
recognized the moment her reaction switched from her luck to his
nearness.
Falcon smoothly slid his arms back to his sides and
stepped back from her. "Is that a lot of money?" he asked, not looking
at her.
"I... I think so." Steve busied herself counting her loot as
she dropped the silver dollars into a plastic bag. By the time she had
it all gathered up her breathing was under control, even if her
thoughts were not. "I just won $257 thanks to you. Let me know if you
get any more of your feelings!"
Steve tried several more machines
without any luck. Falcon seemed distracted, or perhaps the one-arm
bandits simply were not challenging enough for him. "Falcon, would you
like to try one of the tables? I can explain roulette and blackjack,
but I'm afraid craps and baccarat are over my head."
"What are they doing there?" He pointed to the section of the casino where the semicircular blackjack tables were located.
Steve
explained the rules of twenty-one and the betting involved while they
watched a few of the players in action. After a few hands Falcon
suggested they try the game.
"Okay, but let's go over to that table
where no one is playing. It's a five-dollar minimum, but if you're the
only player the dealer won't mind if you're a little slow or stop to
ask questions. Anyway, well be playing with the house's money."
They
sat down in front of the table,. and Steve placed a stack of silver
dollars in front of Falcon. "You play this time. I've never been very
lucky at blackjack."
At first Falcon won a few hands and lost a few.
After about five minutes his luck began to improve. One hour later
Steve found herself sorting tall stacks of various colored chips,
trying not to think of the enormous amount of money they represented.
They were no longer alone at the table. Every seat was occupied, and
spectators stood three-deep behind them. Suddenly Falcon stood up and
handed the dealer a black chip. Damn! Steve realized. A
five-hundred-dollar tip! He moved away from the table, leaving Steve to
pick up his winnings. Her hands were shaking so badly the dealer had to
help her gather the chips.
Steve hurried to catch up with Falcon,
who was making his way to the roulette tables. "What happened? Why did
you walk away? How did you pick up on card counting so fast? That is
what you were doing, wasn't it?"
Falcon flashed Steve a mischievous grin that stunned her. It was the first real smile from him she had witnessed.
"I
became bored once I figured it out. It was not fair for me to continue.
There were two men watching us who did not seem at all pleased with my
luck."
"Fair?" Steve's voice raised in disbelief. "There's no such
thing as fair in gambling. Those two men in tuxedos wouldn't know what
fair means. Okay, forget it. Do you have any idea how much money you
just won? It's a small fortune!"
"It is not my money. It is yours."
"That's ridiculous! It may have been my stake, but you played the game. It's yours!"
"I have no need for it, Steve. If you do not want it, we can return it to the casino," Falcon said seriously.
"Are
you some kind of crazy man? What do you mean you don't need it? Don't
tell me, on top of everything else you're loaded, too! Geez! Never
mind. We'll share. I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Since we have money to burn now, let's play roulette. Okay?"
"Whatever you wish."
Again
she explained the rudimentaries of the game, and they found seats at a
quiet table. Over and over again, the little ball dropped into a slot
on the wheel which bore one of the numbers Steve had bet on. In no time
the stacks of chips in front of them multiplied several times again,
and another crowd collected around their table.
Abruptly, their luck
changed. Nothing Steve bet on came up. Caught up in a gambling frenzy,
she put more and more chips out on the felt board, only to watch the
croupier drag them away with his stick. Inadvertently, Falcon brought
her back to her senses when she caught sight of him rotating his
fingertips over his closed eyelids. The smoke must have been bothering
him terribly and Steve had not given him the slightest notice for some
time.
She stopped playing and gathered up their remaining chips,
marveling at how easily she halved the fortune amassed during the game.
Winning and losing colored chips kept you from thinking in terms of
dollars.
"I'm so sorry, Falcon. I guess I got carried away there. I
can see your eyes are bothering you again. It's still your money if you
want to keep playing, but I don't like losing very much, and our luck
definitely seems to have gone sour."
"I do not care to continue playing."
"What do you say to dinner and a show? We can certainly afford to treat ourselves."
Falcon
nodded. It took a little time at the cashier's cage to exchange the
chips for $2,000 in cash and a cashier's check for $24,750, which
Falcon insisted be made out to Stephanie Barbanell. While she completed
the information for the IRS, Falcon excused himself to put more drops
in his irritated eyes.
Steve asked the cashier about the dinner show
in the hotel. By the time Falcon returned, a casino pit boss appeared
to escort them to the showroom. The man seated them in the center booth
of the first raised tier from the stage, unquestionably the best table
in the room. Steve handed him a generous tip. He wished them a pleasant
evening, compliments of the house, and hoped to see them back in the
casino later.
Steve felt like she was floating on a golden cloud as
she ordered the most expensive dinner on the menu to be accompanied by
an equally expensive bottle of wine. Normally she never drank while on
duty, but she was technically not working and this was all too good not
to celebrate. Falcon seemed to enjoy his simple fare of broiled snapper
and refused the wine. Before the show started, Steve ordered a second
bottle for herself.
She had seen a variation of this show some years
ago, when it was at the Frontier Hotel. It remained her favorite of all
the glitzy extravaganzas. Aside from the usual music, dancing, and
elaborate costumes that failed to cover the dancers' physical
attributes, this show had Siegfried and Roy, two of the most beautiful
blond men to have ever set foot in America. Automatically, Steve
amended that evaluation when she glanced at Falcon.
The show
combined magic with a company of well-trained jungle cats. There was no
barrier between the stage and the audience. Only Siegfried and Roy's
talents as expert animal trainers kept the ferocious lions and tigers
from joining the diners. At the climax of the show there were twelve
large cats poised around the stage, several of which were elegantly
sprawled on overhead balconies with their tails swishing above the
stage. It was absolutely breathtaking. Suddenly the cats began to roar,
one after the other, until they drowned out the orchestra. They became
increasingly agitated, and Siegfried and Roy moved swiftly from one to
another, cracking their whips and ordering their silence in German. The
animals quieted after a moment, but then the lions on the higher
perches leapt down to join the other cats as they all stalked toward
the center runway. It was so perfectly choreographed it appeared to be
part of the act, until Steve caught a look of concern pass between the
two trainers. Their animals appeared to be enacting a quiet rebellion,
and the men were unable to stop whatever the big cats had in mind.
Falcon
reached over and clasped Steve's hand. "Do not be afraid," he murmured.
He stared straight ahead at the huge lion that led the pack. "They only
want to say hello."
Steve looked at him as if he had lost his mind.
He was completely at ease, except for the powerful grip he had on her
hand. Steve's gaze darted around the room. There were a few curious
expressions on the faces of some of the patrons, but no one in the
audience seemed aware that anything unusual was happening.
The lead
lion jumped off the stage, followed by the other eleven. In close order
drill the mighty king paraded his court through the crowded aisle
toward Steve and Falcon's table.
Falcon gave Steve's hand a final
squeeze and slid out of the booth. "Stay seated. There is nothing to
fear." As he moved in front of the table, the twelve sleek cats
surrounded him, then bowed their heads.
Falcon stroked each one on the nose or between the eyes until he had all of them purring contentedly.
Steve
imagined her eyes were bulging out so far she would never get her
eyelids closed over them again. The cats' purring was almost identical
to the sound she had heard from Falcon when they were in the desert.
This
had to be some sort of hallucination. Steve heard Falcon say a few
words, but they were foreign to her. He was speaking to the cats! In
unison the animals rose and returned to their assigned places around
the stage. Falcon gave a small salute to the two men who were still
standing at the end of the runway, doing their best to look calm.
Quickly improvising, Siegfried held out an arm toward Falcon and
encouraged the audience's applause. Roy and Siegfried responded like
the true professionals they were. Everyone thought Falcon was part of
the act.
Except Steve. Her hands trembled and she stared at Falcon
with a mixture of awe and fear, until he did something she had seen him
do before. For the merest second he brushed her temple with his
fingertips, as if he were pushing a strand of hair off her face.
Immediately, she relaxed. Each time he touched her, he made her aware
of how vulnerable he made her feel. There did not seem to be any way to
prevent her response to him, nor did she honestly care if he realized
it.
already decided to have him checked out, and maybe they could help each
other find Underwood. It was the man, Falcon, not the agent, who made
her question the sensibility of such a plan. He made her feel and think
things she had consciously chosen to shut out since her divorce. "You
mean for the duration?"
"It is reasonable."
Several times on the
way to Las Vegas, Steve contemplated starting a conversation and
changed her mind. For one thing, Falcon did not show any interest in
talking. For another, she was not at all sure she wanted to promote
communication with a man who made her remember that she was a woman.
Lastly, if he was not really an agent, she did not care about anything
else he had to say because it would probably be a lie, too.
They
delivered the van to the phone company's service building in Las Vegas
and, after telling Falcon to wait for her outside, Steve found a pay
phone inside the building to call Dokes. It did not take long to bring
him up to date.
"I can't say I'm surprised," Dokes replied when
Steve finished speaking. "I warned you Underwood seems to have a sixth
sense about these things. When I made all my calls last night, I asked
everyone to let me know if they hear anything about a time or place
where he's expected to show up. Plus, I put out a few feelers in the
civilian corner today. Considering all the businesses he owns, there
must be something he attends to personally. Where can I call you if we
come up with anything solid?"
"Before I answer that, I need you to
check on something for me. The guy I described to you last night turned
up in the desert today. His ID says he's Interpol. Name, A. Falcon. I
tend to believe it, but I'd like confirmation. He's after Underwood,
too. Either I work with him or run the risk of his getting in my way,
unless he's not on the level."
She agreed to wait by the phone while
Dokes contacted Interpol. It took about a half-hour for Dokes to call
back, but Falcon never came inside to question the wait, a small favor
for which Steve was grateful.
Dokes confirmed Falcon's identity and
description. "The person I talked to didn't know him personally or very
much about his assignment. Apparently, it's highly confidential. In
fact, it sounds like you know more about what he's doing than they do.
I'd hate to see them get the drop on us on this one. Work with him,
Steve. It's the only recommendation I can make under the circumstances.
Since he suggested it to begin with, there should be no problem, but
keep a close eye on him anyway. Look at it this way, if anything goes
wrong, we can always blame Interpol!" Dokes laughed and Steve joined
him, knowing there was more than a grain of truth to his joke.
As
long as Falcon agreed with what she had already decided to do, she
concocted a way to keep her bird of prey under her wing. He might be
legitimate, and her little voice might tell her she was safe with him,
but that did not mean she could trust him not to double cross her.
Steve did not want to risk his taking off ahead of her, leaving her
holding nothing but excuses. If she returned home to San Francisco, he
would be free to go his own way.
"Listen, Lou, I have an idea or two
on how to handle this Falcon character, and I can accomplish it easier
if we stay here for tonight. Ill give you a call later to let you know
what hotel we're in. Hopefully, you'll come up with a new lead by
morning."
"Fine. Be good, Steve," he said with an unprofessional send-off.
Steve
made one more call to her mother to let her know she would not be home,
and spoke at length with her children. She had not spent a night away
from them in over six months, but guilt pressed heavily on her anyway.
They could always call Uncle Lou if they needed anything before she
called again.
After weighing several ideas of where they could spend
the night, she picked a hotel that might even be some fun. Falcon
complacently agreed with her plan when Steve explained that Lou
expected to have something better for them to do than revisit the first
Miss Preston, and it would be more efficient to stay put in the
meantime.
A few minutes later they were in a cab on the way to the famous Las Vegas Strip.
"Falcon, are you wearing contacts?"
"Contacts?" he returned cautiously.
"Contact lenses. In your eyes, What is it, do you have another name for them in Wales?"
"Oh, my lenses. Yes. I did not realize they were noticeable."
"They're
not, really, but I've seen how you keep rubbing your eyelids like one
of my friends does when his lenses start irritating him, and your eyes
are a little bloodshot, too. Don't you have some drops you can use?"
Steve had no doubt that she had managed to fluster the unflappable
agent. He must be more vain than she guessed if it embarrassed him to
have someone know he wore contacts.
"No, I... forgot to bring ... drops."
The
cab dropped them off in front of the Mirage Hotel. On the way into the
lobby Steve suggested, "Look, why don't you go by the gift shop and buy
some eyedrops. They will soothe your eyes until you can take the lenses
out later. By the time you get back, I'll have us both checked in."
A
loud roar stopped Steve in her tracks, but Falcon continued on directly
to the source. There in the lobby were two magnificent white tigers in
a glass cage. The closer Falcon got to them, the louder they roared.
Catching
up to him, Steve commented, "They're beautiful, aren't they? But so
noisy! It's almost like they're trying to tell you something."
Falcon turned to her and almost smiled. "I will look for the eyedrops now."
As
he walked away, Steve congratulated herself. Except for his one show of
defiance in the desert, Falcon was proving to be quite malleable. A
second surprise awaited her at the registration counter. Behind the
employees was a glass wall through which Steve could see a man-eating
shark swimming back and forth. Only in Las Vegas! she thought wryly.
When
Falcon returned carrying a small paper bag, she held up a key and gave
him an apologetic look. "They only had one room available. There's a
couple of big conventions in town and not a decent room left. We were
lucky to get this one. They assured me it has two beds, and I figured
if I didn't mind, you shouldn't. Okay?" She was worried that her
nervousness about the sleeping arrangements would make her lie about
the available rooms sound false.
Steve intended to keep him within
sight, even if it meant sacrificing her privacy. Hah! Who are you
kidding, Steve? By sternly reminding herself to keep her mind on the
case, she managed to banish the images she conjured up at the thought
of spending the night in the same room with Falcon.
He looked
directly into her eyes for several long seconds. Although she could not
tell what he was thinking, she had the uneasy sensation that he knew
she was lying, but once again he nodded his agreement without uttering
a word.
Steve wanted to dispel the uncomfortable feeling quickly.
"As soon as we've dropped our bags in the room, I'll let Lou know where
we are, then we can have some fun. I think it's my duty as an American
to show a visiting official a good time. You've never been to Vegas
have you?"
"No, I have not."
"Good! You're in for a real treat then!"
Chapter Six
Rich men rule the law.—Oliver Goldsmith
GordonRich men rule the law.—Oliver Goldsmith
Underwood took another glance at the fuzzy videotapes of the man and
woman who had appeared in his two California offices. Miss Preston was
correct in that the woman was almost unrecognizable in her disguises,
obviously a professional. Only the audacity of her two performances
gave any clue that something was in the wind. The man had made no
attempt to change his appearance, and his excuses for being in the two
offices were extremely flimsy. He was either an amateur or over
confident of his abilities. It did not really matter. Between the two
of them, Underwood knew now that someone was looking for him.
It had
taken the last three hours, considerable use of his computers and a
handful of phone calls, but he had learned who they were and what one
of them was up to. Private Investigator Stephanie Barbanell was indeed
working on the Nesterman case. Apparently, Nesterman had managed to
leave a clue behind that pointed to Underwood in some way. But it could
not be a very revealing one, since it took six weeks to uncover it,
then turn it over to a private agency instead of the police.
The man
was A. Falcon, an Interpol agent, on special assignment in the United
States. Unfortunately, none of Underwood's contacts could come up with
more than that, although they promised to keep trying. Interpol! What
could they want? He was involved in too many deals in too many
countries to narrow the possibilities down without more information.
Usually,
Miss Preston's instincts were exceptional when it came to protecting
him. The fact that the two agents did not appear to know each other did
not rule out the possibility that they were working on the same case.
Underwood decided it was time to have another chat with Nesterman, and
find out what projects the scientist had been working on before he was
brought to Alaska. If he was involved in a government project, that
might help piece the puzzle together.
In the meantime Underwood
needed more time with Nesterman. Each day brought him closer to
convincing the computer whiz that he had been justified in his actions.
Delphina's appearance had almost won Nesterman over. Underwood was
certain that if another of her people could be lured in, one with
superior knowledge or powers, Nesterman would realize the importance of
what they were doing and become an ally rather than an enemy. He firmly
believed another alien would be arriving any day now.
With two
different detectives trying to locate him, though, Underwood knew he
could only stay hidden for so long, and he did not want to risk moving
Delphina from Alaska. He assumed it would be easier for her people to
find her if he kept her where she had appeared. Underwood needed to
keep his pursuers running around in circles for a while longer. This
could be accomplished by throwing out a few deceptive crumbs for them
to follow, combined with a little sleight of hand to keep them
interested.
He made a call to Miss Preston to give her his
instructions for the misdirection of Barbanell and Falcon. For the
magic he summoned King.
Chapter Seven
A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing. —William Shakespeare
"IA lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing. —William Shakespeare
can't believe you've never been to Monte Carlo!" Steve teased. "Here I
thought all of you international agents hung around glittery casinos
wearing tuxedos and looking debonair like James Bond."
"James Bond?" Falcon looked at her curiously.
"You know, Double-O-Seven! Geez, don't they give you time off to go to-the movies over there?"
"Oh, yes, the movies."
Steve
had the distinct impression he still had no idea what she was talking
about. But this guy never seemed to understand what she was saying. His
speech, what little there was of it, was extremely stilted. Perhaps she
should try to use a little less slang, for his sake. Then again, what
did it matter if they did not speak exactly the same language? They
would only be together until they got the job done.
"Well, here we
are," Steve said with a wave of her hand toward the brightly lit
casino. "Las Vegas is known for its extravagance and neon lights. Some
of the places get downright tacky, but this place is one of the nicer
ones. The tables will be honest, too. What would you like to try?"
"I will leave it to you, Steve. I am not familiar with these games."
"I'm
not much of a gambler myself, but I know enough to show you around. The
one-arm bandits are my favorite. Worst odds in the house, but even a
complete amateur can try them. Watch some of the people playing for a
minute while I break a twenty for some silver dollars."
Steve left
Falcon staring intently at the whirring machines. In the next row
someone had gotten lucky, as evidenced by the loud ringing bell,
flashing lights, and clinking of coins into the metal tray.
When
Steve returned, it took her only a few seconds to spot Falcon. He was
listening to a buxom cocktail waitress in a skimpy costume, who seemed
to be offering him much more than a drink. Steve had changed into the
purple sweater dress, as it was the only appropriate thing she had with
her. Even so, the waitress's blatant charms left her feeling somewhat
insignificant. Falcon, on the other hand, was so attractive and
dangerously male in his all black attire, every woman in the area
paused to sneak a peak at him or openly ogle. One elderly woman next to
Steve asked her if she knew his name, certain he was a famous movie
star. Just then Falcon turned and walked to where she was standing, as
if he had known she was there all along. Steve could not resist a
gloating smile toward the waitress and a wink at the older woman. They
did not need to know there was nothing between them.
Falcon looked
slightly confused when he reached her. "I understand how the machine
works now. You were right about the odds. Why would you put your money
into such a unit?"
Steve laughed. "For the fun of it, I guess. And the chance that it's my turn to hit the jackpot."
"Would that make you happy, Steve? To hit the jackpot?"
"Are
you kidding? I'd be happy to win enough to buy groceries next week. You
can't imagine how much it costs to keep my family fed." Suddenly she
realized how presumptive that sounded. "I'm sorry, Falcon. For some
reason I assumed you don't have a family of your own to feed."
"I do not."
Steve
knew she should let it lie, but she could not resist the urge to be
certain. "You're not married, or anything?" Falcon was looking at her
strangely again, and she felt her cheeks flush.
"I am not married... or anything, Steve."
How
did he make a simple name like Steve sound so sexy? She had to stop
reacting to everything this man did. Steve turned away from him, put a
dollar in the machine in front of her, and yanked on the arm harder
than necessary. The colored fruits spun madly inside the glass window,
finally stopping on an orange, a banana, and a black bar. Steve
shrugged and began to insert another coin into the same machine when
Falcon stopped her.
"Not that one. You will lose again. Come." He touched her elbow and led her slowly down one row and up another. "This one."
Steve
smiled. "Another feeling, Falcon? Oh, well, your choice is probably
better than mine—beginner's luck and all that. Would you like to pull
the arm since you picked the machine?"
He shook his head no, but placed one hand on the side of the machine and concentrated on the blurred pictures.
One bar. Double bars. Triple bars. Bells clanged! Lights flashed!
Steve let out a squeal and threw herself against Falcon, giving him a strangling hug.
"I
won! I won! I can't believe it! Thank you!" Steve realized she was
choking him and quickly released her hold around his neck. It made her
instantly aware of the secure hold he had on her in return, and the
strength radiating from the length of his body pressed close to hers.
Steve's heart was pounding from the excitement of the win, yet she
recognized the moment her reaction switched from her luck to his
nearness.
Falcon smoothly slid his arms back to his sides and
stepped back from her. "Is that a lot of money?" he asked, not looking
at her.
"I... I think so." Steve busied herself counting her loot as
she dropped the silver dollars into a plastic bag. By the time she had
it all gathered up her breathing was under control, even if her
thoughts were not. "I just won $257 thanks to you. Let me know if you
get any more of your feelings!"
Steve tried several more machines
without any luck. Falcon seemed distracted, or perhaps the one-arm
bandits simply were not challenging enough for him. "Falcon, would you
like to try one of the tables? I can explain roulette and blackjack,
but I'm afraid craps and baccarat are over my head."
"What are they doing there?" He pointed to the section of the casino where the semicircular blackjack tables were located.
Steve
explained the rules of twenty-one and the betting involved while they
watched a few of the players in action. After a few hands Falcon
suggested they try the game.
"Okay, but let's go over to that table
where no one is playing. It's a five-dollar minimum, but if you're the
only player the dealer won't mind if you're a little slow or stop to
ask questions. Anyway, well be playing with the house's money."
They
sat down in front of the table,. and Steve placed a stack of silver
dollars in front of Falcon. "You play this time. I've never been very
lucky at blackjack."
At first Falcon won a few hands and lost a few.
After about five minutes his luck began to improve. One hour later
Steve found herself sorting tall stacks of various colored chips,
trying not to think of the enormous amount of money they represented.
They were no longer alone at the table. Every seat was occupied, and
spectators stood three-deep behind them. Suddenly Falcon stood up and
handed the dealer a black chip. Damn! Steve realized. A
five-hundred-dollar tip! He moved away from the table, leaving Steve to
pick up his winnings. Her hands were shaking so badly the dealer had to
help her gather the chips.
Steve hurried to catch up with Falcon,
who was making his way to the roulette tables. "What happened? Why did
you walk away? How did you pick up on card counting so fast? That is
what you were doing, wasn't it?"
Falcon flashed Steve a mischievous grin that stunned her. It was the first real smile from him she had witnessed.
"I
became bored once I figured it out. It was not fair for me to continue.
There were two men watching us who did not seem at all pleased with my
luck."
"Fair?" Steve's voice raised in disbelief. "There's no such
thing as fair in gambling. Those two men in tuxedos wouldn't know what
fair means. Okay, forget it. Do you have any idea how much money you
just won? It's a small fortune!"
"It is not my money. It is yours."
"That's ridiculous! It may have been my stake, but you played the game. It's yours!"
"I have no need for it, Steve. If you do not want it, we can return it to the casino," Falcon said seriously.
"Are
you some kind of crazy man? What do you mean you don't need it? Don't
tell me, on top of everything else you're loaded, too! Geez! Never
mind. We'll share. I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Since we have money to burn now, let's play roulette. Okay?"
"Whatever you wish."
Again
she explained the rudimentaries of the game, and they found seats at a
quiet table. Over and over again, the little ball dropped into a slot
on the wheel which bore one of the numbers Steve had bet on. In no time
the stacks of chips in front of them multiplied several times again,
and another crowd collected around their table.
Abruptly, their luck
changed. Nothing Steve bet on came up. Caught up in a gambling frenzy,
she put more and more chips out on the felt board, only to watch the
croupier drag them away with his stick. Inadvertently, Falcon brought
her back to her senses when she caught sight of him rotating his
fingertips over his closed eyelids. The smoke must have been bothering
him terribly and Steve had not given him the slightest notice for some
time.
She stopped playing and gathered up their remaining chips,
marveling at how easily she halved the fortune amassed during the game.
Winning and losing colored chips kept you from thinking in terms of
dollars.
"I'm so sorry, Falcon. I guess I got carried away there. I
can see your eyes are bothering you again. It's still your money if you
want to keep playing, but I don't like losing very much, and our luck
definitely seems to have gone sour."
"I do not care to continue playing."
"What do you say to dinner and a show? We can certainly afford to treat ourselves."
Falcon
nodded. It took a little time at the cashier's cage to exchange the
chips for $2,000 in cash and a cashier's check for $24,750, which
Falcon insisted be made out to Stephanie Barbanell. While she completed
the information for the IRS, Falcon excused himself to put more drops
in his irritated eyes.
Steve asked the cashier about the dinner show
in the hotel. By the time Falcon returned, a casino pit boss appeared
to escort them to the showroom. The man seated them in the center booth
of the first raised tier from the stage, unquestionably the best table
in the room. Steve handed him a generous tip. He wished them a pleasant
evening, compliments of the house, and hoped to see them back in the
casino later.
Steve felt like she was floating on a golden cloud as
she ordered the most expensive dinner on the menu to be accompanied by
an equally expensive bottle of wine. Normally she never drank while on
duty, but she was technically not working and this was all too good not
to celebrate. Falcon seemed to enjoy his simple fare of broiled snapper
and refused the wine. Before the show started, Steve ordered a second
bottle for herself.
She had seen a variation of this show some years
ago, when it was at the Frontier Hotel. It remained her favorite of all
the glitzy extravaganzas. Aside from the usual music, dancing, and
elaborate costumes that failed to cover the dancers' physical
attributes, this show had Siegfried and Roy, two of the most beautiful
blond men to have ever set foot in America. Automatically, Steve
amended that evaluation when she glanced at Falcon.
The show
combined magic with a company of well-trained jungle cats. There was no
barrier between the stage and the audience. Only Siegfried and Roy's
talents as expert animal trainers kept the ferocious lions and tigers
from joining the diners. At the climax of the show there were twelve
large cats poised around the stage, several of which were elegantly
sprawled on overhead balconies with their tails swishing above the
stage. It was absolutely breathtaking. Suddenly the cats began to roar,
one after the other, until they drowned out the orchestra. They became
increasingly agitated, and Siegfried and Roy moved swiftly from one to
another, cracking their whips and ordering their silence in German. The
animals quieted after a moment, but then the lions on the higher
perches leapt down to join the other cats as they all stalked toward
the center runway. It was so perfectly choreographed it appeared to be
part of the act, until Steve caught a look of concern pass between the
two trainers. Their animals appeared to be enacting a quiet rebellion,
and the men were unable to stop whatever the big cats had in mind.
Falcon
reached over and clasped Steve's hand. "Do not be afraid," he murmured.
He stared straight ahead at the huge lion that led the pack. "They only
want to say hello."
Steve looked at him as if he had lost his mind.
He was completely at ease, except for the powerful grip he had on her
hand. Steve's gaze darted around the room. There were a few curious
expressions on the faces of some of the patrons, but no one in the
audience seemed aware that anything unusual was happening.
The lead
lion jumped off the stage, followed by the other eleven. In close order
drill the mighty king paraded his court through the crowded aisle
toward Steve and Falcon's table.
Falcon gave Steve's hand a final
squeeze and slid out of the booth. "Stay seated. There is nothing to
fear." As he moved in front of the table, the twelve sleek cats
surrounded him, then bowed their heads.
Falcon stroked each one on the nose or between the eyes until he had all of them purring contentedly.
Steve
imagined her eyes were bulging out so far she would never get her
eyelids closed over them again. The cats' purring was almost identical
to the sound she had heard from Falcon when they were in the desert.
This
had to be some sort of hallucination. Steve heard Falcon say a few
words, but they were foreign to her. He was speaking to the cats! In
unison the animals rose and returned to their assigned places around
the stage. Falcon gave a small salute to the two men who were still
standing at the end of the runway, doing their best to look calm.
Quickly improvising, Siegfried held out an arm toward Falcon and
encouraged the audience's applause. Roy and Siegfried responded like
the true professionals they were. Everyone thought Falcon was part of
the act.
Except Steve. Her hands trembled and she stared at Falcon
with a mixture of awe and fear, until he did something she had seen him
do before. For the merest second he brushed her temple with his
fingertips, as if he were pushing a strand of hair off her face.
Immediately, she relaxed. Each time he touched her, he made her aware
of how vulnerable he made her feel. There did not seem to be any way to
prevent her response to him, nor did she honestly care if he realized
it.
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