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Authors: Jayne Castle

Orchid (33 page)

BOOK: Orchid
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Orchid sighed. “There is that aspect of the situation.”

Rafe looked at Edward. “I do have one question concerning Dr. Preston Luce.”

Edward got his laughter under control. “What's that?”

“I understand that it was his connection to Orchid that got him into the right circles here at Northville. And I realize that he does have some charisma-talent. But I still can't see your personnel department hiring him without doing a basic background check.”

“Oh, Luce had excellent references,” Edward said. “He came to the institute with glowing recommendations from his former employer.”

“True.” Anna grimaced. “They were so good, that I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he wrote some of them himself.”

Rafe looked at Orchid. “You said that he used you to get himself here.”

Orchid shuddered. “Don't remind me.”

“How did he meet you?”

Orchid blinked in surprise. “I explained that. We met through my marriage agency, Affinity Associates.”

“No, I mean how did he find you? How did he know where you were registered? Hell, how did he even know that you were from Northville and that he could use you? He must have learned a lot about you before he even went to Affinity Associates to register.”

“I see what you mean.” Orchid shrugged. “He probably
came across my file during the time he worked at ParaSyn. He was on the staff there for a while after I left.”

“Well,
shit.”

Edward gave him a faint frown of disapproval. “I beg your pardon?”

Rafe sat up swiftly. “It always comes back to ParaSyn, doesn't it?”

“What do you mean?” Anna asked.

“Here's my insider stock trading tip of the day,” Rafe said. “Sell your ParaSyn shares first thing in the morning.”

“Why?” Edward demanded, baffled.

“Because something tells me there's a problem there.”

Edward frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I just know it.”

Orchid did not press him for details until the next morning when they got into the Icer for the drive back to New Seattle.

“All right, time to explain the ‘well, shit,' last night, Stonebraker,” she said as she buckled her seatbelt.

“Sorry.” Rafe eased the car out of the driveway. “Guess that wasn't a very meta-zen-syn thing to say, was it?”

“No, but we'll leave that aside for the moment.” Orchid slid the passenger window down and leaned out to wave farewell to her parents.

She did not know what to make of the expressions on their faces as they stood watching the Icer pull out of the drive. A cross between acceptance and wistful concern, she decided. A very parental look.

It was almost as if they knew something about her future that she herself did not. Whatever it was, it worried them, but they had come to terms with it. She'd seen that look in their eyes on other occasions. The day she left Northville to find an apartment in New Seattle,
for instance. She knew now that they had known then that she would never make her home in Northville.

Being the offspring of obsessive meta-zen-syn types could be trying, she reflected, not for the first time.

She finished waving and slid the window back into place. It sealed itself with a soft hiss.

“Why did you say it?” she asked as Rafe drove through the artfully arranged landscape of carefully situated homes and austere rock- and reflecting-pool gardens.

She realized she liked to watch him drive. He did it with the same fluid ease and controlled power that characterized all of his movements. It was probably some extremely primitive aspect of her own nature that caused her to savor such a simple and elemental aspect of a man.

“I said it because it suddenly struck me that everywhere I turn ParaSyn keeps popping up in our conversations.”

“It pops up a lot because of me. If you hadn't hired me to focus for you on this case, you wouldn't have come across any references to ParaSyn.”

“You're wrong,” he said softly. “As soon as I started looking into Willis's background, I would have learned about the ice-prism project.”

“Yes, I suppose that's right.”

“Sooner or later, I would have made a connection to Morgan Lambert. That would have led me to the fact that Lambert and Willis had met at ParaSyn.” Rafe smiled abruptly, as though he had just been struck by a very satisfying thought.

Orchid eyed him suspiciously. “Now, what?”

“It just occurred to me that even if I had never gone to Psynergy, Inc., to hire a full-spectrum prism, I would have met you eventually in the course of tracking down all of the people who had close ties to Theo Willis.”

“Hmm.”

“Funny how synergy works, isn't it?”

She made a face. “Must be destiny, all right.”

“What? You don't believe in destiny? And here I thought you were the romantic type.”

“Forget the destiny stuff. Tell me why you're concerned about the ParaSyn connection.”

“I don't have anything solid yet.” Rafe guided the Icer through the relentlessly serene village of Northville. “To get it, I'll need something that ties Quentin Austen to ParaSyn.”

Orchid watched the last Northville speed limit sign slip past the window. Rafe accelerated rapidly.

“What would such a connection tell you?” she asked.

“I'm not sure. But it would certainly prove very interesting.”

Orchid gazed out the windshield at the heavily wooded landscape. But she did not see the trees that marched down the hillsides to the banks of the North River. Other images filled her mind. Scenes of grueling focus sessions with mentally disturbed talents. Exhausting lab tests conducted by cold researchers who did not seem to notice or care about the stress they induced in their volunteer subjects. The eagerness of the experts to move from experiments with the mentally ill to focus sessions with the criminally insane.

With an effort she shook off the unpleasant chill. “If our search for the missing relic leads to ParaSyn we may need to get inside.”

“We'll see.”

She took a deep breath. “I've got the perfect excuse, Rafe.”

Rafe shook his head. “Security at a place like ParaSyn is always very tight. I doubt that the authorities would grant a former research subject free run of the place. Especially given the fact that the project you were involved in was closed down three years ago.”

“I'm not sure I'd get free run of the place.” Orchid kept her attention on the serene view of the river. “But I know they'll let me back inside. They've been trying
to coax me back for a follow-up project for weeks, remember?”

Rafe gave her a raking glance. “Forget it. You aren't going back there under any circumstances.”

“But if it means closing our case—”

His jaw was stone. “You aren't going back to ParaSyn.”

“Not even if it means finding the missing relic?”

“That damn relic is not worth sending you back to ParaSyn. Besides, odds are it's nowhere near ParaSyn, anyway.”

“What do you mean? You just said there might be a connection. Maybe some researchers at ParaSyn arranged to steal the relic.”

Rafe looked surprised by her suggestion. “Not likely. There would be no need to steal it. ParaSyn is a major company with a lot of clout. If the experts there wanted to conduct experiments on some of the alien artifacts all they would have to do is contract with the authorities at the university and the New Seattle Art Museum. No one would turn down a request from them.”

“Good point.” She sank back in her seat, briefly deflated but also secretly relieved.

“Even if the executives at ParaSyn had decided to engage in a little industrial espionage, they would have used a more efficient and more reliable agent than Theo Willis.”

“I see what you mean.”

“All I'm looking for is another lead on Quentin Austen. There's something a little too convenient about his suicide. But I can get the kind of information I need without sending you back to ParaSyn.”

Orchid was touched by his vehemence. Smiling tremulously, she reached across the short distance that separated them and patted his hand. “Thanks.”

“I missed you last night,” Rafe said after a while.

“I was just down the hall.”

“I'm getting used to having you in my bed.”

She did not know what to say to that. The truth was, she was getting used to being in his bed, too.

Rafe said nothing for a time. After a while he glanced at her, eyes gleaming. “I guess pulling over to the side of the road, driving into that grove of trees near the river, and getting into the backseat would be a really primitive thing to do.”

“Are you kidding?” She was horrified. “It would not only be primitive, it could be extremely embarrassing. This is a major highway. Someone might see us.”

“Not much traffic,” he observed. “And the woods look pretty thick. I don't think anyone would notice.”

“That grove near the river is just the sort of place a family would choose for a roadside picnic.”

“You know what your problem is, Orchid? You lack a spirit of adventure.”

Orchid felt the Icer slow perceptibly. “You wouldn't dare.”

It was fast and intense and in the end Orchid actually screamed. It was probably real primitive of him, Rafe thought, but he liked that part best.

“I can't believe you did that.” Twenty minutes later, Orchid perched on the edge of the backseat struggling to pull on her jeans.

It was not an easy task, Rafe thought. There was very little room for her to maneuver because he was taking up most of the available space. He lounged in the corner, one leg stretched out behind Orchid's madly wriggling rear, and enjoyed the scene.

“Might be easier if you opened the door and got out,” he said.

“I'm not getting out of this car until I'm dressed. We're not that far from Northville. What if some of my parents' friends happened along?”

“Suit yourself, but I really don't think anyone can see you from the highway.”

“I'm not taking any chances.” There was a soft snap
as Orchid managed to fasten the waistband of her jeans. “Isn't there some kind of law that says that no one over the age of eighteen is allowed to do it in the backseat?”

“I won't tell the backseat police if you don't.” He sat up reluctantly and gingerly rezipped his pants. “If you'll excuse me for a moment, I believe I'll use the facilities.”

“What facilities?” She peered through the fogged up windows. “This isn't a rest stop. We're in the middle of the woods.”

“Right. The facilities.” He cracked the door open and slid it up into the roof. “Be back in a minute.”

“Oh, I see.” She turned pink. Then she studied the river bank that was only a few feet away with a thoughtful expression. “Maybe I'll take the opportunity to wash up myself.”

Rafe got out of the car. “Don't fall in. That water will be ice cold at this time of year.”

“Don't worry. My balance is a lot better than Preston's.”

“I believe it.” Rafe turned and walked a discreet distance into the trees, savoring the after effects making love to Orchid always had on his senses. He felt relaxed and pleasantly aware of the sights, smells, and small sounds around him.

Life was good this morning.

He kept walking.

The morning sun filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground with spots of gold and shadow. The rich soil beneath his boots smelled of spring. The air tasted better than blue champagne.

He allowed his mind as well as his senses to wander as he chose a suitable tree and unzipped his jeans.

From out of nowhere he recalled the billing ledger he had found the night he and Orchid had searched Quentin Austen's office. He had a sudden memory of the pink sticky note attached to the back.

The synergistic possibilities hit him with the impact of summer lightning.

Energy pulsed through him as he hastily rezipped his jeans. The small burst of adrenaline took his already heightened senses up another notch for a few seconds.

Just long enough to alert him to the presence of another person nearby.

Not Orchid.

The sense of imminent danger crackled through him. He had to get back to Orchid. He shoved more energy out onto the psychic plane, instinctively seeking her through the focus link.

He saw the familiar prism take shape, clear and sharp even at this distance. He sent a warning crashing across the metaphysical realm even as he isolated the taint of the
other
and followed it.

He whirled, orienting himself. Through the trees he caught the unnatural glint of sunlight on steel.

He dove for cover just as the shot rang out. He landed on the ground behind a large tree.

“Rafe,”
Orchid's shout came from the river's edge. “That was a shot.”

It was clear now that he was the target, not her. “Stay where you are.”

“Hey, you in the woods with the gun,” she yelled. “There are people here. It's illegal to hunt this close to the highway.”

Rafe doubted that her warning would carry much weight with the shooter. Whoever he was, he was no ordinary hunter. But Orchid's words did provide a distraction.

Rafe sensed that the other's attention was divided now.

From the would-be killer's point of view, things were disintegrating rapidly, he thought. The first shot had missed and the intended victim was no longer in sight. To top it off, a woman who was invisible through the veil of trees was yelling.

Rafe flattened himself on the ground and made his way toward the shelter of the next large tree.

Another shot rang out, but this one went wild. The gunman had lost track of his quarry.

“There are people here, you idiot,” Orchid shouted furiously. “What do you think you're doing?”

Rafe concentrated on sending more power through the prism. He knew exactly where the gunman was now. He began to circle toward him, using the heavy undergrowth as cover.

BOOK: Orchid
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