Midnight Jewels (33 page)

Gladstone nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. It might indeed be the simplest way. Did Falconer get into the vault?"

"No. It's still locked. Dallas just checked."

Gladstone nodded again. "Excellent."

Croft was shaking by the time Mercy got him into the shower. Beneath the natural bronze of his skin he was pale. His eyes were stark in his harsh face and it was obvious that the sheer force of his will was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

But he seemed to be thinking more clearly. At least that was what Mercy told herself as she stripped off her own wet clothes and got into the shower beside him. The hot water felt good. She realized just how chilled she had gotten.

Croft watched enigmatically as she stepped into the shower. "I get the feeling you're not here to join me in some fun and games." He stood braced against the tiled wall with one hand, letting the water pour down on his head.

"You're right. I'm in here to keep you from falling flat on your face."

"Why stop me now? I've been doing a damn good job of it since this whole thing started. Christ, I can't believe I screwed up this bad. This job is coming apart the way my last one did three years ago." He closed his eyes and put out his other hand to help hold himself in an upright position. "What a mess."

"You don't normally screw things up, huh?" Mercy knew he was in no condition to continue the ribald teasing he had been indulging in earlier, but she still felt awkward sharing the shower with him. This was a purely therapeutic effort, she reminded herself as she carefully kept her back to him. As soon as they were both warm, she had to get them out of me house.

"Three years ago I did a fairly good job of screwing up," Croft said thoughtfully, as if caught up in a sudden need for a dose of self-chastisement. "But other than
that and this bit tonight, no, I don't usually screw things up."

"Well, aren't you Mr. Wonder Man."

He opened one eye. "You're mad."

"I'm scared." She reached out and turned off the shower. "Come on, Croft. We've got to get out of here. I'll pack for you while you're getting dressed."

"I don't think I'm in any condition to drive out of these mountains tonight," Croft said quietly, watching her as she tossed him a towel.

"You won't be driving. I will."

"Are you a good driver?"

"Under the circumstances, I'm the best available."

His mouth crooked slightly. "A valid point."

Mercy wasn't sure if his faint smile was caused by the remnants of whatever drug had been used on him or if he found the situation genuinely humorous.

She quickly finished drying herself, wrapped the towel around her body and then reached out to snatch his towel out of his hands. "That's enough, you'll do. Now let's get you into some dry clothes. The party is still going strong. By now most of the guests are stoned out of their minds on
something. I figure we can get downstairs and out to the car without anyone noticing we're even gone."

"I doubt it." Croft allowed himself to be led out into the bedroom. He was totally unself-conscious of his nudity. He seemed more concerned with the faint trembling in his hands. The weakness obviously alarmed him.

Mercy shot him a quick, worried glance as she shoved a clean shirt at him. "What do you mean, you doubt it?"

"Sounds too simple."

"But with all these people here, no one would dare try to stop us, even if someone did see us leave. There would be fifty witnesses."

"Maybe. Maybe not." He started buttoning the shirt, giving the task close attention.

Mercy was exasperated. "Have you got any better ideas?"

"No."

"That's just great. Well, until you come up with a spiffier plan, why don't you quit taking potshots at mine?"

"It's a deal. No more potshots at your plan until I can think of a better one. Where are my pants?"

"Here." She tossed him a pair of jeans with one hand as she dragged his small overnight bag out of the closet. Quickly she raced through the room, gathering up the few items he had left out of the bag.

"My boots are wet. I'll go barefoot." Croft glanced around the room, frowning intently.

"All right. I'll get my things. Stay right here and don't move, understand?"

His gaze snapped back to her anxious face. "You can stop treating me as if I were a drunken husband who's just embarrassed you at a party. My head is clearing."

"Don't worry, I'm not in any danger of mistaking you for my husband, drunk or otherwise. Now hold onto this." She shoved the bag into his hand. "I'll be right back."

She was ready within minutes, her things pushed carelessly into her small suitcase along with the copy of
Valley
. When she returned to the other room Croft was standing where she had left him. He smiled brightly.

"I didn't move."

"Do you think you can now?" she asked with concern. He might not be shaking as badly as he had been earlier, but he still looked as though the only thing keeping him on his feet was his willpower and her nagging.

"Lead the way, boss lady. I still haven't come up with a better plan."

She held out a hand. "Got the car keys?"

He thought a moment. "In here." He patted the bag he was holding. He unzipped a pocket and handed the keys to her.

Mercy grabbed them, aware that her fingers were also trembling. Too bad, she chastised herself. She was going to have to drive, anyway. Maybe tomorrow she could find time to have a nervous breakdown, she told herself consolingly. But for the moment it looked as if she was in charge whether she wanted to be or not. Fortunately, Croft was being cooperative. "All right, let's get this show on the road."

The hall outside their suite was still empty when they emerged from the room. The laughter, music and conversation were as loud as ever, floating up through the house. Mercy led Croft down the carpeted hall toward the back stairs.

They encountered no one en route, but when they slipped out into the cold night air two sleek, dark shapes materialized in front of them.

"The dogs," Mercy whispered, halting immediately. "I thought they'd be in
their pens."

The Dobermans made no sound, but their small, pointed ears were held stiffly alert. They moved closer. Mercy shrank back.

Croft didn't move. Instead he extended a hand to the closest Doberman. "Easy boy," he said softly. "We just came out for a little fresh air." He kept talking quietly to the animals in a voice that was so soft Mercy could barely hear the words.

The dogs cocked their heads to one side, listening attentively. Whatever questions they might have had in their canine brains seemed laid to rest by Croft's quiet words.

"It's okay," Croft finally said to Mercy. "They won't bother us."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I never did like Dobermans," Mercy whispered as she eased past the watching animals. "They always look like they're ready to attack."

"That's because they are always ready to attack."

"That explains it. How did you get to be such good friends with these two?"

"Dogs and I get along well. We. understand each other."

"Maybe you're in the wrong business. Maybe you should be raising dogs."

Mercy and Croft threw their bags into the back seat of the Toyota. Mercy slide into the driver's seat. She turned the key in the ignition as Croft got in beside her and closed the door. As she started backing out of the drive, Croft leaned over to peer at the gas gage.

"Well, we got lucky in two respects."

"How's that?" Mercy's attention was on her driving as she started toward the compound gate.

"No one emptied the gas tank and I know how to open the gate."

Mercy's fingers tightened on the wheel. "You mink maybe that's a combination of too much luck?"

He leaned his head back against the seat. "It's a possibility."

"Croft."

"Don't get cold feet. This was your brilliant plan, remember?"

She brightened. "Maybe it's working because it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. After all, no one expected us to sneak off tonight."

"That's true. They expected me to end up face down in a pool. As for you——-"

"Yes, what about me?"

"I don't know, Mercy." Croft spoke wearily. A deep tiredness seemed to be replacing the alternating episodes of drunken euphoria and sickness. "I can't think straight yet. Let's just get out of here."

"How do you feel. Croft?"

"Exhausted." He held his hands up in front of him, examining them in the glow of the dashboard. "But I think I can still handle the gate."

A few minutes later he proved himself right. The lights of the big house faded as Mercy eased the Toyota through the compound gates and started to descend the steep road. They reached the outer gate a few minutes later without incident.

"You could probably have driven through this one if you'd had to." Croft observed matter-of-factly when he climbed back into the car after unlocking the gate. "But it looks like our luck knows no bounds tonight. We must live right."

The huge bus that had brought the crowd of guests stood in the starlight looking for all the world like a slumbering dinosaur. Mercy edged the Toyota around it and started into the first of the endless curves that shaped the mountain road for miles. Tires squealed as she came out of the first curve.

"I take it you haven't had a lot of experience driving mountain roads?" Croft noted after a few minutes.

"Don't worry. I'm a fast learner."

"Good." He closed his eyes again.

The isolation as well as the sharp, never ending switch-back, curves were enough to give anyone an anxiety attack, Mercy told herself as she concentrated on her driving. She had only gone a couple of slow, torturous miles when she noticed the brief flash of headlights in the rearview mirror. They disappeared almost immediately, cut off by a bend in the road behind her, but she was sure she had seen them. She shoved her foot down on the gas.

"Croft!"

His eyes snapped open, focusing instantly on the hairpin turn she was approaching at high speed. "Uh, Mercy, you want to slow down a bit? Even my Porsche can't take turns like
this at this speed."

"Someone's following us."

"Well, whoever it is won't have to worry about finding us if you go off the edge here, will he? We'll make a nice, big hole in the guard rail."

"Maybe mat's what he wants. Maybe he wants us to go over the edge." Nevertheless, Mercy reluctantly slowed the Toyota to a more reasonable speed. She whipped it around another curve. Tires squealed in protest as they clung gamely to the road surface. Croft winced.

"You know, you're developing a streak of melodrama as wide as mine." Croft turned in the seat and glanced back through the rear window. "It's got to be Dallas or Lance—or both. I don't mink you're going to be able to outrun them."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Mercy's foot eased back down on the gas pedal. The next curve came up much too fast in her headlights.

"Forget the Grand Prix act. I said you aren't going to be able to outrun them. Whoever's driving knows this road a hell of a lot better than you do. That gives him a distinct advantage."