Dawn in Eclipse Bay (26 page)

The darkened hallway was lined with office doors fitted with opaque glass. Gabe could hear the din of muffled voices in the distance. The noise came from the large reception room in the intersecting corridor. The Leaders of Tomorrow open-house event was in full swing.

Lillian stood beside him in the shadows. Her hair was pinned into a sleek, graceful knot at the back of her head. She wore a close-fitting, midnight-blue dress made out of a stretchy, slinky fabric that moved when she did and a pair of sexy, strappy heels.

He could think of a couple of other things he would rather do with her tonight than hunt for frozen space aliens. But duty called.

He checked the bulky camera Arizona had given him. “We're all set.”

“I still say this is a really bad idea,” Lillian muttered. “What if we get caught prowling through the new wing?”

“If anyone stops us, which is highly unlikely given that they're all very busy with the reception, we'll say we were curious about the new construction. Big deal. You really think anyone would arrest a Harte and a Madison who just happened to wander into the wrong hallway here at the institute?”

“You never know.”

“It's a lot more likely they'd ask us for a contribution. Stop worrying. You're a little tense tonight.”

“I've had a very difficult week and now I'm getting ready to look for frozen aliens. I've got a right to be tense. I'm supposed to be devoting myself to art, remember?”

“Take it easy,” he said. “Think of this as performance art.”

“Yeah, right. Performance art.”

“We'll get in, take a few shots of empty offices and get out. Tomorrow we'll turn the pictures over to A.Z. and she can weave whatever conspiracy theories she wants. That will be the end of it for us.”

“How do we explain the camera if we're stopped by a guard?”

“No problem,” Gabe said. “We'll say we wanted some souvenir photos of the reception.”

“It's a high-tech spy camera, for heaven's sake. No one's going to buy that story.”

“Trust me. I can fake it if necessary.”

“All right,” she said with annoyance. “Let's get it over with and get back to the open house.”

She started off down the hall toward the new wing with long, determined strides. He fell into step beside her, marveling at how well she could move in the sexy shoes. Together they prowled deeper into the bowels of the institute. The sounds of the open house faded into the distance behind them.

At the far end of the dark passage a temporary door fashioned out of plywood had been installed to separate the uncompleted wing from the main building. A band of loosely draped construction zone tape barred the way. Gabe ducked under the tape and found the partition unlocked.

“We're in luck.” He eased the plywood door open and stood aside to allow Lillian to enter. “Ready to boldly go where no Harte or Madison has gone before?”

She moved into the unpainted hall and stopped.

“Shouldn't you start taking pictures?” she said in a low voice.

“Right.”

He walked to the nearest door and opened it. There was enough light filtering through the window from the parking lot lamps to reveal the bones of an empty room that was clearly intended to serve as an office.

“No frozen aliens in here,” he announced.

“Big surprise.” She leaned around the edge of the door.

“Hurry up and take a picture. We've got a whole bunch of rooms to cover.”

He raised the heavy VPX 4000 and snapped off a shot. The flash flared, brilliantly illuminating the small space for an instant. Darkness closed in again almost immediately.

“Great,” Lillian said. “Now I can't see a thing.”

“This thing really puts out some wattage, doesn't it?” He blinked a few times to get rid of the dark spots. “Next time close your eyes when I take the picture.”

He went to the door across the hall, opened it, and took another picture of an empty, partially painted interior. When he finished, he moved to the next door and repeated the procedure.

After a while, it became routine. Open a door, take a photo of a bare office, close the door. Go to the next room.

“I don't think A.Z. is going to be real thrilled with these pictures,” Lillian said halfway down the hall. “She has her heart set on finding proof that the government has secretly moved frozen extraterrestrials here to Eclipse Bay.”

“Don't worry about A.Z. She's a professional conspiracy buff, remember? A pro can always find a way to spin the facts into a new theory.”

He opened the next door in line, raised the VPX 4000 and fired off a shot.

A woman yelled at the same instant the flash exploded. Not Lillian, he realized. Someone else. This room was inhabited. Not frozen aliens. Warm bodies.

Two figures were illuminated in the intense light. A man with a serious erection dressed in a pair of red bikini briefs and a woman in a black leather bustier and high-heeled black boots.

J. Anderson Flint and Marilyn Thornley.

“Holy cow,” Gabe said. “A.Z. was right. But it's worse than she thought. Wait'll she hears that they've thawed out two of the frozen alien life-forms.”

For two or three seconds everyone stared at everyone else. Marilyn, demonstrating the well-honed instincts of a natural-born politician, recovered first.

“Give me that camera,” she shouted.

“Sorry, it's not mine to give away.” Gabe took a quick step back toward the door. “Private property, you know. A bulwark of our constitutional republic. Wouldn't be right.”

“I said give me that damned camera.” Marilyn lunged toward him.

“Give her the stupid camera, for heaven's sake,” Lillian said.

She grabbed the heavy VPX 4000 out of his hand and hurled it toward Marilyn the way you'd hurl garlic and a silver cross at a vampire.

“Let's get out of here.” She seized his arm and hauled him out of the doorway. “Right now.”

She broke into a run. Gabe had to stretch a little to keep up with her. He admired her form as they went down the corridor.

“I didn't know a woman could move that fast in high heels,” he said.

By the time they reached the main building he was laughing so hard he accidentally went through the construction zone tape, severing it. The ends fluttered to the floor.

“A.Z. was right,” he managed to get out between howls.

“Strange things going on in the new wing.”

Lillian stopped and turned to look at him. She was breathing hard from her recent exertion. She watched him for a long moment, a strange expression on her face. You'd think she'd never seen a man doubled up with laughter, he thought.

“I'd give anything for a picture of you right now.” She stepped forward and brushed her mouth lightly against his. “And to think that I once thought you were a walking case of burnout.”

The following morning Lillian was still trying to figure out how to deliver the bad news to Arizona. She stood at the kitchen counter in Gabe's house watching him slather peanut butter onto two slices of toasted Incandescent Body sourdough bread, and went through the possibilities.

“We could say we lost her VPX 4000,” she said. “Or maybe imply that it was stolen out of the car.”

Gabe did not look up from his task. “Could tell her the truth.”

“Don't be ridiculous. No one, not even A.Z., would believe it.”

“You've got a point.” Gabe put the peanut butter toast on a plate. “Some things defy description.”

“Some things are also actionable. The last thing we need is a lawsuit from Marilyn's campaign.” Lillian poured coffee. “We have to come up with a reasonable story or A.Z. will invent another new conspiracy theory to explain a second missing camera.”

Gabe picked up a slice of peanut butter toast and took a bite. “You have to admit that it's pushing coincidence a bit.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Think about it. Two missing spy cameras. One stolen by force. One confiscated by a politician in a black leather bustier. Both cameras belong to a woman dedicated to uncovering the truth about a clandestine government project housed at the Eclipse Bay Policy Studies Institute. I mean, what are the odds?”

“You find this all very entertaining, don't you?”

He grinned and took a swallow of coffee. “Most fun I've had in a long time.”

“Great. Wonderful. I'm glad you're amused. But what the heck are we going to tell A.Z.?”

“Leave it to me. I'll handle it. I think I'll go with the truth. By the time A.Z. gets through twisting it, no one will recognize it, anyway.”

Lillian took a bite of toast. She chewed on it for a while and then swallowed.

“Something I've been meaning to ask,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Did Marilyn wear black leather bustiers a lot when the two of you were an item?”

“It's been a long time,” Gabe said. “My memory isn't so good when it comes to some things. But I'm pretty sure the black leather gear is new. Probably a political fashion statement.”

“Probably.” She looked at the unfinished portion of her toast. “You're good with peanut butter, you know that?”

“It's a gift.”

“Marilyn Thornley confiscated the camera?” Arizona slapped a big hand, palm down, fingers spread, on the laminated map that decorated the table of her war room.

“Damn. I was afraid of this. She's either working with them or she's one of their dupes.”

Lillian suppressed a groan. This was not going well. The good news was that Arizona appeared to be back to her old self. She still wore a small bandage but there was no sign of any other physical problems resulting from the blow to her head.

“Personally,” Gabe said, “I'd vote for the dupe possibility. I can't see Marilyn getting involved in a conspiracy to cover up dead space aliens and high-tech UFO secrets. She's too busy working on the launch of her campaign.”

Arizona squinted a little while she considered that angle. “Guess you know her better than anyone else around here does.”

“Guess so,” Lillian agreed brightly.

“I doubt that she has changed much,” Gabe said deliberately. “She's devoted to one cause and that cause is Marilyn Thornley.”

“She's been involved in politics for the last few years, though,” A.Z. mused. “Makes for strange bedfellows.”

A vision of Anderson in his red bikini briefs flared briefly in Lillian's mind. “You can say that again.”

“We'll replace the camera, A.Z.,” Gabe said. “In the meantime, you have our full report. The bottom line is that there was no sign of heavy-duty lab equipment in the new wing and we found no evidence of frozen extraterrestrials. If those alien bodies were moved into the institute, they've got them well hidden.”

“Figures.” Arizona nodded sagely. “Should have known it wouldn't be this easy. We'll just have to keep digging. Maybe literally, if they've hidden the lab underground.”

“A scary thought,” Lillian murmured.

“My work will continue,” Arizona assured them. “Meanwhile, thanks for the undercover job. Couldn't have done it without you. Unfortunately, you'll never get the public recognition you deserve because we have to maintain secrecy.”

“We understand,” Gabe said.

Arizona nodded. “But I want you to know that your names will be legend among the ranks of those of us who seek the truth about this vast conspiracy.”

“That's certainly good enough for me,” Lillian said quickly. “How about you, Gabe?”

“Always wanted to be a legend in my own time,” Gabe said.

“We don't want any public recognition,” Lillian added, eager to emphasize the point. “Just knowing that we did our patriotic duty is all the reward we need. Isn't that right, Gabe?”

“Right,” Gabe got to his feet. “Publicity would be a disaster. If our identities as secret agents were exposed, it would ruin any chance of us helping you out with future undercover work.”

Lillian was almost to the door. “Wouldn't want that.”

“True,” Arizona said. “Never know when we might have to call on you two again.”

She knew that something was bothering Gabe. The amusement that had carried him through last night's investigation and this morning's debriefing with Arizona had vanished. When she had called him to suggest a walk on the beach a short while ago, he had agreed, but she could tell that his thoughts were elsewhere.

He had met her at the top of the beach path. She had noticed immediately that the cool, remote quality was back. At least she had finally figured out that the withdrawn air did not automatically indicate major depression or burnout. It meant that he was doing some heavy-duty thinking.