Topaz Dreams (9 page)
Authors: Marilyn Campbell
Steve wished he was a cold block of sculptured marble
instead of the warm flesh and blood she had already encountered a bit
too familiarly. She frowned slightly when she realized that her tee
shirt, which hung loosely on her, showed off more of his masculine
appeal than his own shirt had, but at least it provided him with a
disguise.
Holding up a plain, white painters hat, she appraised his
thick hair. "Well have to tuck it up and hope the cap holds it there. I
don't have any hairpins." When Falcon cocked his head, she didn't
bother to explain. "Here, hold this." Steve handed him the hat and
reached to gather up his hair. Oh. God, it's like petting an angora
cat! She took a deep breath to get on with her task and realized how
close they were standing. Her breasts brushed against him as her chest
rose and fell. She could smell the scent of soap and it made her think
of him in the shower.
"I can't do it," she murmured, quickly backing away. "Your hair's too ... Uh, there's just too much of it. Maybe you can do it."
Falcon
bent over at his waist and efficiently twisted his hair into a knot
that the cap secured well enough. Suddenly he pulled the neckline of
the borrowed shirt up over his nose and inhaled deeply, before letting
it fall back in place. "It smells like you. I would not think this
piece of clothing would fit you very well."
He was not touching her,
but his eyes held her. "I... I sleep in it." Her voice came out in a
sultry whisper that implied much more than her words revealed.
Falcon
continued to watch her for several seconds, but again Steve could not
fathom what was on his mind. She wondered if he ever played poker. The
odd thought seemed to break the spell.
"Is there anything more to this disguise? If there is not, I think we should be on our way."
"Oh,
yeah, one more thing." Steve handed him her large sunglasses. She
pulled a San Francisco Giants' baseball cap out of her bag and put it
on. "That's it! Let's rock 'n' roll."
He looked at her inquisitively, shrugged his shoulders, and walked around to the passenger's side of the van.
As
they came to a stop in front of the shack, Steve laid down the rules.
"I'll do the talking. You'll be a trainee, so you won't have to look
like you know what you're doing. I understand it's like a maze down
there, so the only hope we have of getting to Underwood's office is if
we're taken right to it. His private line has been put out of
commission, and his security people are expecting a telephone company
repairman. If the data I've been given is accurate, they already have
the van on their monitors and someone will appear to escort us in."
Steve
had also been told they would only pat her down or ask for ID if she
had come uninvited. She decided to trust that information and remain
armed. From what she had seen and felt, if Falcon was carrying, she
didn't know where, and she wanted one of them to be holding something
more substantial than self-confidence if they were walking into a trap.
Steve
got out of the van, and buckled on the utility belt that completed her
cover. Just as they opened the door to the shack, a section of flooring
slid open and a stainless steel monolith rose up through the gap. The
front of the tall rectangular box swung toward them, and a uniformed
security guard greeted them from within.
The guard looked from her
to Falcon and said, "We were told only one repairman, a woman I mean,
would be coming. He'll have to stay here until you're finished."
"Him?"
Steve waved at Falcon. "He doesn't count. He's a trainee, assigned to
follow me everywhere I go. You know, like he's attached at my hip. But,
hey, if it's a problem go ahead and clear it first. You might get
through to somebody for an okay before the end of the day. You know how
the phone company is. Meanwhile, I've got one more job back in Vegas
that has to be done before five this afternoon and no way am I gonna
take the blame if it's not done. You know, it's one of those big-shot
casino guys, and they have ways of getting back at you when they don't
get what they want!"
"Okay, okay, forget it. I guess it's all right.
Mr. Underwood would probably be angrier if his phone's not fixed than
if I let in some trainee. Come on in then." When they entered the steel
closet, he closed the door and pushed a button on the wall panel.
Instantly, they made their descent below ground.
Steve had expected
the unusual elevator, but assumed a telephone repairman might not react
nonchalantly. "Wow! That's really cool! I heard this place was like
something out of a science-fiction movie. I'm kinda sorry I promised
not to say anything to anybody about what I see here. But they told me
I'd lose my job if I opened my mouth, so I guess I'll just have to keep
it to myself, or I should say ourselves, right, Bob?" Steve nudged
Falcon in his side a little harder than necessary, and he agreed with a
grunt.
The guard nodded approvingly and held the elevator door open
for them as they exited into a lobby. "You'll have to sign in first."
Steve
quickly signed for the both of them. The guard led them through a set
of double doors and directed them to take a seat in a waiting golf cart.
When
they were all settled, he asked, "Will you need to go to the central
communications room or to the telephone they're having trouble with?"
Steve
continued to look around as if dumbstruck. "Oh, uh, take me to Mr.
Underwood's office first. Maybe it's some little thing I can fix on his
phone. I'll let you know if I need to get to the main board." Steve was
pleased that Falcon was going along so obligingly. Perhaps it was a
good thing they came to an agreement before they got in here. Now, if
they could only catch up to Underwood!
They rode for several minutes
through a series of corridors. Eventually, they stopped at an ornately
carved wooden door. As they entered, the guard held his arm out toward
a secretary with carrot-orange hair. "Miss Preston, these are the
people from the phone company. Ill wait outside for them."
Miss
Preston Three got up from her chair and walked to a door on the far
side of her large office. Steve was a little surprised that it was not
a duplicate of Underwood's other two offices, but then this whole setup
was different from the norm—except for the redheaded secretary.
"I hope we won't be putting your boss to too much trouble," Steve said quickly.
"No
problem," Miss Preston answered. "He was here yesterday, but there was
an emergency in San Francisco and he had to go back last night. It was
just as well. He would not have been very patient about the phone being
out of order this morning."
Damn! They had missed him again. Steve
followed the secretary into Underwood's office knowing it was futile,
but she had to finish the charade before they could get out of there.
The woman remained in the office with Steve while she turned the phone
over and removed a screwdriver from her belt. As Steve pretended to
make an adjustment, she kept an eye on Falcon, who was wandering around
the richly appointed office, touching various objects. He was good. His
meandering made the secretary watch him instead of Steve. Even in his
impromptu disguise, he was a man at whom a woman stopped whatever she
was doing to get a better look. Hiding his hair and eyes had not made
any difference. Steve had not disguised his hard, lean body, nor had
she thought of suggesting that he alter his walk that made her think of
a prowling jungle cat.
She was about to put the phone back together and ignore him and his walk when he closed in on the redhead.
"You
have a smudge," he said in his low vibrating voice. It clearly had the
same affect on the secretary as it had on Steve. "Let me get it for
you." He lifted his hand, the first two fingers extended, and gently
touched the side of her face by her temple. Steve stopped what she was
doing.
The position of his fingers was the same as she had seen him
do to her. The moment he contacted the woman's temple, her eyelids
drooped, and for an instant her features completely relaxed, as if she
had gone to sleep. Falcon removed his hand and the woman's lashes
fluttered open again.
"Thank you," the secretary said as he stepped away from her.
Steve
thought she had seen the woman go limp for a moment when Falcon touched
her, but it had happened so fast, and the woman made no comment about
what he had done, that Steve convinced herself she must have been
seeing things. After all, hadn't she practically melted when he kissed
her? His nearness was pretty devastating. Maybe this woman was so
susceptible to his charm it only took a touch.
What a monumental ego
he must have if every woman he touches conveniently falls apart for
him. Steve pondered what it would be like to have men react to her in
such a way. Now that was a really ridiculous idea. She had not even
been able to hold on to the man who had married her!
"Okay, all
set." Steve jammed the screwdriver back in her belt and headed for the
outer office. "The main office will have the telephone back in working
order by five today. It was just a short. Let's move it, Bob!"
She
got into the golf cart without waiting to see if Falcon followed, and
the guard had them back on the surface a few minutes later.
Once in
the van, Falcon looked concerned, or at least that was what Steve
supposed the slight change in his expression indicated.
"You are angry again? You are disappointed that Underwood was not there. I, too, am somewhat disappointed."
Steve
could not answer right away. She was not sure her mood swing was
entirely connected with missing Underwood, but that was all she
intended to discuss with a man who was a virtual stranger. "Yeah. I'm
disappointed. If I could have gotten here yesterday, I might have had
him!"
"No, you would not."
"No? Why do you say that? You heard the secretary."
"She
prevaricated. We are being led along a false trail. That was only what
she was told to tell anyone who asked. Underwood has not been in that
office for several weeks."
"Now hold on a minute. I'm not saying
you're wrong. I have a feeling you hit it right on the head, but you
sound like you know it for a fact."
"It is the same for me as you, Steve. I have ... a feeling. Perhaps I have more faith in my intuition than you do."
"Okay,
I'll buy that. . . for now. For a second there I had the crazy idea you
were going to tell me you were reading her mind when you wiped the
imaginary smudge off her face."
"Yes, that is a crazy idea. Do you have any others?"
"Crazy ideas?"
"Maybe.
I was actually wondering if you had a feeling about where we might try
next. I sincerely doubt if Underwood is in San Francisco since that
appears to be where he wants us to go."
Steve caught his use of the
word "we" and let it go for the moment. Until she found out who he was
for sure, she was not going to accept or reject him as a partner on
this case. They were back at the spot where they had met earlier, and
Steve stopped the van.
"First, I've got to get this van back to
Vegas and check in with my office. Going back to San Francisco is
probably a waste of time as far as finding Underwood is concerned, but
that's where I live and work, so I don't have much choice. My expense
account doesn't stretch far enough for me to go traipsing around the
world to every one of Underwood's offices in hopes that I accidentally
bump into him. I'm going to have to wait until he surfaces somewhere or
somebody comes up with another lead."
"Steve, I have another
feeling. The secretary in the San Francisco office is important to
Underwood. I believe she is the one who would know where he is."
"That's
more than just a feeling. It's in his file. There were several
notations that conjectured that she's his number-one Girl Friday, in
spite of his lack of imagination when it comes to his secretaries' hair
color and names."
"Then it would be reasonable to return to her."
"Why?
Do you think you could melt the old biddy into a pool of desire and get
her to confess everything she knows? Don't kid yourself, Falcon. Even
you aren't that good. She's made of stone and one hundred percent loyal
to her master."
"You are right, Steve."
"Yeah? About what?"
"You do have very crazy ideas. Why did you call me Bob before?" Subject changed.
"Because
Bob is a very common name, and Falcon is not. I didn't want your
identity known. Your name would be remembered, believe me. Now answer a
question for me. How did you get out here, and how did you intend to
return to the city? And just what was it you were doing wandering
around like that when I first saw you?"
"I believe that was three
questions, and one comment that deserves a response. You are right
about my name. I do understand now if you must call me by another name
in the future. I was brought here by a taxi. He did not wait, as you
can see, but it does not matter now. You will take me to wherever we
are going."
His explanation left her thinking he was either a good
liar or a total rube! "How lucky for you that I came along then.
Although I don't usually pick up hitchhikers, I guess you can come back
to Vegas with me. Now, question number three?"
"I was looking for a way in."
"Didn't
Interpol give you any background at all?" Steve caught her breath in a
small gasp, and her voice revealed her worry. "Oh, God, don't tell me
you're a rogue! I manage to get into enough trouble all by myself
without getting mixed up with something like that." She saw his brows
draw together, and assumed he did not understand the term. "A rogue—an
agent who goes off on his own, without orders. Someone who rejects the
rules of the game and makes his own." Steve did not consider herself a
rogue; she simply failed to go by the book when the rules became too
constricting. Lou had extracted her promise to behave on this case, and
she did not want anyone else getting her into a jam when she was trying
so hard not to.
"No, Steve, I am not a rogue. I am here alone, but
with Interpol's knowledge. Since I seem to have been seriously
uninformed, however, I hope you will agree to assist me, as we
discussed earlier."
instead of the warm flesh and blood she had already encountered a bit
too familiarly. She frowned slightly when she realized that her tee
shirt, which hung loosely on her, showed off more of his masculine
appeal than his own shirt had, but at least it provided him with a
disguise.
Holding up a plain, white painters hat, she appraised his
thick hair. "Well have to tuck it up and hope the cap holds it there. I
don't have any hairpins." When Falcon cocked his head, she didn't
bother to explain. "Here, hold this." Steve handed him the hat and
reached to gather up his hair. Oh. God, it's like petting an angora
cat! She took a deep breath to get on with her task and realized how
close they were standing. Her breasts brushed against him as her chest
rose and fell. She could smell the scent of soap and it made her think
of him in the shower.
"I can't do it," she murmured, quickly backing away. "Your hair's too ... Uh, there's just too much of it. Maybe you can do it."
Falcon
bent over at his waist and efficiently twisted his hair into a knot
that the cap secured well enough. Suddenly he pulled the neckline of
the borrowed shirt up over his nose and inhaled deeply, before letting
it fall back in place. "It smells like you. I would not think this
piece of clothing would fit you very well."
He was not touching her,
but his eyes held her. "I... I sleep in it." Her voice came out in a
sultry whisper that implied much more than her words revealed.
Falcon
continued to watch her for several seconds, but again Steve could not
fathom what was on his mind. She wondered if he ever played poker. The
odd thought seemed to break the spell.
"Is there anything more to this disguise? If there is not, I think we should be on our way."
"Oh,
yeah, one more thing." Steve handed him her large sunglasses. She
pulled a San Francisco Giants' baseball cap out of her bag and put it
on. "That's it! Let's rock 'n' roll."
He looked at her inquisitively, shrugged his shoulders, and walked around to the passenger's side of the van.
As
they came to a stop in front of the shack, Steve laid down the rules.
"I'll do the talking. You'll be a trainee, so you won't have to look
like you know what you're doing. I understand it's like a maze down
there, so the only hope we have of getting to Underwood's office is if
we're taken right to it. His private line has been put out of
commission, and his security people are expecting a telephone company
repairman. If the data I've been given is accurate, they already have
the van on their monitors and someone will appear to escort us in."
Steve
had also been told they would only pat her down or ask for ID if she
had come uninvited. She decided to trust that information and remain
armed. From what she had seen and felt, if Falcon was carrying, she
didn't know where, and she wanted one of them to be holding something
more substantial than self-confidence if they were walking into a trap.
Steve
got out of the van, and buckled on the utility belt that completed her
cover. Just as they opened the door to the shack, a section of flooring
slid open and a stainless steel monolith rose up through the gap. The
front of the tall rectangular box swung toward them, and a uniformed
security guard greeted them from within.
The guard looked from her
to Falcon and said, "We were told only one repairman, a woman I mean,
would be coming. He'll have to stay here until you're finished."
"Him?"
Steve waved at Falcon. "He doesn't count. He's a trainee, assigned to
follow me everywhere I go. You know, like he's attached at my hip. But,
hey, if it's a problem go ahead and clear it first. You might get
through to somebody for an okay before the end of the day. You know how
the phone company is. Meanwhile, I've got one more job back in Vegas
that has to be done before five this afternoon and no way am I gonna
take the blame if it's not done. You know, it's one of those big-shot
casino guys, and they have ways of getting back at you when they don't
get what they want!"
"Okay, okay, forget it. I guess it's all right.
Mr. Underwood would probably be angrier if his phone's not fixed than
if I let in some trainee. Come on in then." When they entered the steel
closet, he closed the door and pushed a button on the wall panel.
Instantly, they made their descent below ground.
Steve had expected
the unusual elevator, but assumed a telephone repairman might not react
nonchalantly. "Wow! That's really cool! I heard this place was like
something out of a science-fiction movie. I'm kinda sorry I promised
not to say anything to anybody about what I see here. But they told me
I'd lose my job if I opened my mouth, so I guess I'll just have to keep
it to myself, or I should say ourselves, right, Bob?" Steve nudged
Falcon in his side a little harder than necessary, and he agreed with a
grunt.
The guard nodded approvingly and held the elevator door open
for them as they exited into a lobby. "You'll have to sign in first."
Steve
quickly signed for the both of them. The guard led them through a set
of double doors and directed them to take a seat in a waiting golf cart.
When
they were all settled, he asked, "Will you need to go to the central
communications room or to the telephone they're having trouble with?"
Steve
continued to look around as if dumbstruck. "Oh, uh, take me to Mr.
Underwood's office first. Maybe it's some little thing I can fix on his
phone. I'll let you know if I need to get to the main board." Steve was
pleased that Falcon was going along so obligingly. Perhaps it was a
good thing they came to an agreement before they got in here. Now, if
they could only catch up to Underwood!
They rode for several minutes
through a series of corridors. Eventually, they stopped at an ornately
carved wooden door. As they entered, the guard held his arm out toward
a secretary with carrot-orange hair. "Miss Preston, these are the
people from the phone company. Ill wait outside for them."
Miss
Preston Three got up from her chair and walked to a door on the far
side of her large office. Steve was a little surprised that it was not
a duplicate of Underwood's other two offices, but then this whole setup
was different from the norm—except for the redheaded secretary.
"I hope we won't be putting your boss to too much trouble," Steve said quickly.
"No
problem," Miss Preston answered. "He was here yesterday, but there was
an emergency in San Francisco and he had to go back last night. It was
just as well. He would not have been very patient about the phone being
out of order this morning."
Damn! They had missed him again. Steve
followed the secretary into Underwood's office knowing it was futile,
but she had to finish the charade before they could get out of there.
The woman remained in the office with Steve while she turned the phone
over and removed a screwdriver from her belt. As Steve pretended to
make an adjustment, she kept an eye on Falcon, who was wandering around
the richly appointed office, touching various objects. He was good. His
meandering made the secretary watch him instead of Steve. Even in his
impromptu disguise, he was a man at whom a woman stopped whatever she
was doing to get a better look. Hiding his hair and eyes had not made
any difference. Steve had not disguised his hard, lean body, nor had
she thought of suggesting that he alter his walk that made her think of
a prowling jungle cat.
She was about to put the phone back together and ignore him and his walk when he closed in on the redhead.
"You
have a smudge," he said in his low vibrating voice. It clearly had the
same affect on the secretary as it had on Steve. "Let me get it for
you." He lifted his hand, the first two fingers extended, and gently
touched the side of her face by her temple. Steve stopped what she was
doing.
The position of his fingers was the same as she had seen him
do to her. The moment he contacted the woman's temple, her eyelids
drooped, and for an instant her features completely relaxed, as if she
had gone to sleep. Falcon removed his hand and the woman's lashes
fluttered open again.
"Thank you," the secretary said as he stepped away from her.
Steve
thought she had seen the woman go limp for a moment when Falcon touched
her, but it had happened so fast, and the woman made no comment about
what he had done, that Steve convinced herself she must have been
seeing things. After all, hadn't she practically melted when he kissed
her? His nearness was pretty devastating. Maybe this woman was so
susceptible to his charm it only took a touch.
What a monumental ego
he must have if every woman he touches conveniently falls apart for
him. Steve pondered what it would be like to have men react to her in
such a way. Now that was a really ridiculous idea. She had not even
been able to hold on to the man who had married her!
"Okay, all
set." Steve jammed the screwdriver back in her belt and headed for the
outer office. "The main office will have the telephone back in working
order by five today. It was just a short. Let's move it, Bob!"
She
got into the golf cart without waiting to see if Falcon followed, and
the guard had them back on the surface a few minutes later.
Once in
the van, Falcon looked concerned, or at least that was what Steve
supposed the slight change in his expression indicated.
"You are angry again? You are disappointed that Underwood was not there. I, too, am somewhat disappointed."
Steve
could not answer right away. She was not sure her mood swing was
entirely connected with missing Underwood, but that was all she
intended to discuss with a man who was a virtual stranger. "Yeah. I'm
disappointed. If I could have gotten here yesterday, I might have had
him!"
"No, you would not."
"No? Why do you say that? You heard the secretary."
"She
prevaricated. We are being led along a false trail. That was only what
she was told to tell anyone who asked. Underwood has not been in that
office for several weeks."
"Now hold on a minute. I'm not saying
you're wrong. I have a feeling you hit it right on the head, but you
sound like you know it for a fact."
"It is the same for me as you, Steve. I have ... a feeling. Perhaps I have more faith in my intuition than you do."
"Okay,
I'll buy that. . . for now. For a second there I had the crazy idea you
were going to tell me you were reading her mind when you wiped the
imaginary smudge off her face."
"Yes, that is a crazy idea. Do you have any others?"
"Crazy ideas?"
"Maybe.
I was actually wondering if you had a feeling about where we might try
next. I sincerely doubt if Underwood is in San Francisco since that
appears to be where he wants us to go."
Steve caught his use of the
word "we" and let it go for the moment. Until she found out who he was
for sure, she was not going to accept or reject him as a partner on
this case. They were back at the spot where they had met earlier, and
Steve stopped the van.
"First, I've got to get this van back to
Vegas and check in with my office. Going back to San Francisco is
probably a waste of time as far as finding Underwood is concerned, but
that's where I live and work, so I don't have much choice. My expense
account doesn't stretch far enough for me to go traipsing around the
world to every one of Underwood's offices in hopes that I accidentally
bump into him. I'm going to have to wait until he surfaces somewhere or
somebody comes up with another lead."
"Steve, I have another
feeling. The secretary in the San Francisco office is important to
Underwood. I believe she is the one who would know where he is."
"That's
more than just a feeling. It's in his file. There were several
notations that conjectured that she's his number-one Girl Friday, in
spite of his lack of imagination when it comes to his secretaries' hair
color and names."
"Then it would be reasonable to return to her."
"Why?
Do you think you could melt the old biddy into a pool of desire and get
her to confess everything she knows? Don't kid yourself, Falcon. Even
you aren't that good. She's made of stone and one hundred percent loyal
to her master."
"You are right, Steve."
"Yeah? About what?"
"You do have very crazy ideas. Why did you call me Bob before?" Subject changed.
"Because
Bob is a very common name, and Falcon is not. I didn't want your
identity known. Your name would be remembered, believe me. Now answer a
question for me. How did you get out here, and how did you intend to
return to the city? And just what was it you were doing wandering
around like that when I first saw you?"
"I believe that was three
questions, and one comment that deserves a response. You are right
about my name. I do understand now if you must call me by another name
in the future. I was brought here by a taxi. He did not wait, as you
can see, but it does not matter now. You will take me to wherever we
are going."
His explanation left her thinking he was either a good
liar or a total rube! "How lucky for you that I came along then.
Although I don't usually pick up hitchhikers, I guess you can come back
to Vegas with me. Now, question number three?"
"I was looking for a way in."
"Didn't
Interpol give you any background at all?" Steve caught her breath in a
small gasp, and her voice revealed her worry. "Oh, God, don't tell me
you're a rogue! I manage to get into enough trouble all by myself
without getting mixed up with something like that." She saw his brows
draw together, and assumed he did not understand the term. "A rogue—an
agent who goes off on his own, without orders. Someone who rejects the
rules of the game and makes his own." Steve did not consider herself a
rogue; she simply failed to go by the book when the rules became too
constricting. Lou had extracted her promise to behave on this case, and
she did not want anyone else getting her into a jam when she was trying
so hard not to.
"No, Steve, I am not a rogue. I am here alone, but
with Interpol's knowledge. Since I seem to have been seriously
uninformed, however, I hope you will agree to assist me, as we
discussed earlier."
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