Authors: Marilyn Campbell
Topaz Dreams (14 page)
Chapter Ten
It is not good to wake a sleeping lion. —Sir Philip Sidney
ItIt is not good to wake a sleeping lion. —Sir Philip Sidney
was one o'clock in the morning before they could attempt the next step
in Steve's plan. She appraised her bikini-clad figure in the mirror.
Falcon would probably think her donning the skimpy suit was another one
of her flimsy attempts to attract him. She grabbed a tee shirt and
pulled it on. Two seconds later she took it off again. The hell with
what he thinks, she thought angrily. Swimming was easier without excess
clothing, she reasoned, and he probably would not notice anyway.
Out
on deck Falcon waited with even less covering than she wore, but she
vowed not to notice. "Don't you think you ought to take that off?"
Falcon
paused. He had understood nudity was not generally accepted in public,
and although her attire left nothing to the imagination, the female
parts of her anatomy were covered ... more or less. Don't think about
it! "I do not understand. You picked out this swimsuit. Is it not
appropriate?"
Steve's mouth opened and closed as she realized what
he thought she meant. "Oh geez, no, I, uh, I was referring to your
ring. Opals aren't supposed to get wet, are they?" As far as she was
concerned, nothing could make the showy thing less attractive than it
already was, but he did seem attached to it. "Is it your birthstone?"
Falcon
turned his ring hand away from her line of vision, and said the first
thing that came to mind. "It is not a genuine opal. The water will not
hurt it. Yes, it is my birthstone."
"Not genuine? No kidding?" Steve reached for his hand to get a closer look at the fake, but he put his hand behind his back.
With his other hand, he pointed at the two-foot long, black, cylindrical tube she was holding by its grip. "What is that?"
Now
why wouldn't he want her to see his stupid ring? The thought of trying
to force the issue held some temptation, but she decided not to give
him another reason to think she was a twit. "I've never used it in the
field myself, but it's the latest technology in mountain climbing. When
I press this button, the top opens and twenty feet of rope shoots out
wherever I point. A four-pronged grappling hook on the end opens like
an umbrella, with rubber tips. As long as there's something for it to
grab onto, it will support up to six hundred pounds.
"It sure would
have been nice if Underwood had taken my bait and invited us on board
by the front door, but I guess that would have been too simple. I just
hope there's no alligators in that water."
Falcon raised one eyebrow
at her. It had not occurred to him that there might be living creatures
in such dirty water. Fortunately, they would only have to swim a short
distance. "And I hope the moon stays behind those clouds. Steve, I know
you work alone, but will you please stay close once we are on board? It
would be inefficient, and possibly dangerous, to separate."
Steve
felt like refusing just to be ornery, but it was exactly what she was
going to suggest, so she agreed. "Fine. Ready?" She prepared to slip
over the side into the waterway when he stopped her.
"Steve?"
She turned back to him, wondering at his frown.
"I wish to apologize for my outburst earlier. I had no right to touch you in anger."
Steve
laughed in spite of his serious expression. "Hey. No problem. It did my
heart good to see you act completely human for once."
Falcon winced. "Why would you say that? Do I not seem human to you?"
"To
tell you the truth, Falcon, there are times I'm not sure what you are.
Now let's go." Again she started over the edge, when another voice
stopped her.
"Sue! Sue Smith!"
Coming up the houseboat's gangway
were the ladies Steve had met at the pool and three men, who could only
be the husbands. She groaned and hurriedly whispered in Falcon's ear,
"Your name is Smith and you're an attorney for Underwood." She smiled
broadly at the small party cramming themselves on the deck. "We were
just about to cool off with a dip. Care to join us?"
Irene Wilson
scanned Steve and Falcon's bathing suits, then looked down at her
elegant cocktail dress with a grin. "I think we're a mite overdressed.
We were invited on board for drinks with Gordon, but he never came out
of his suite. When I saw you two out here, I thought we would have more
fun sharing some of the bubbly with you. Tom, pop that cork. Break out
the glasses, Sue. And you must be her darling husband!" She stroked
Falcon's cheek with one stubby index finger as her gaze slid down his
body. "You didn't tell us he was gorgeous, Sue, dear. I would have made
a point of visiting earlier!"
Falcon gave her a look that thanked
her for the compliment and told her he was not available without
insulting her. Steve was amazed at how smoothly he extricated himself.
There was no help for it, though. They would have to be sociable for a
short while at least.
Irene may have been fascinated with Falcon,
but her husband was on the verge of erupting. Falcon felt his simmering
frustration as soon as the man came on board. The other two men could
not take their eyes off Steve's barely covered curves. He did not need
to sense their feelings to recognize the same lustful thoughts that had
taken up residence in his head.
Steve nearly jumped out of her skin
when Falcon moved behind her and put his arms around her waist.
Accustomed to flowing in and out of whatever character suited the
moment, she automatically became the loving wife, smiling up at him and
covering his forearms with her own. What on earth was this all about?
She tried to laugh at the jokes and join in the conversation around
her, but his proprietary hold kept her from composing any rational
sentences. His heartbeat drummed against her shoulder blades; the heat
of his near-naked body burned her skin.
Falcon pulled her back with
him as he leaned against the railing. Steve's breath stopped short when
he tucked her between his open thighs and she discovered the hard
reason he was keeping her in front of him. If she thought for one
moment that she was the cause, she would have squirmed around a bit,
just to tease him, but she was not at all sure that this was not a
reaction to Irene's advances. When it came to Falcon, she could not be
sure of anything.
"Oh, damn!" complained one of the other wives. "We left the party too soon."
Everyone
turned to see why she was pointing at the yacht. It was pulling out!
Falcon and Steve shared a grimace of exasperation. Their visitors had
delayed their plans long enough for the Underwood yacht to leave the
dock. Like a clock striking twelve, the sight of the ship moving past
them abruptly ended the gaiety. In a matter of minutes the three
couples finished their drinks, said good night, and departed.
"Do you think that was planned?" Steve asked.
"It
is certainly a possibility. Do not be upset. From what you learned, he
must return before the four o'clock meeting tomorrow. We will catch up
to him then."
A short time later Steve lay in her bed, unable to
sleep in spite of the hour. Naturally, Falcon had made no mention of
the minutes spent cuddled together on deck. After all, it was only an
act, wasn't it? Then why did her chest tremble when she remembered how
he had looked down at her so possessively? Everything about Falcon made
her think of a fictional hero in a spy novel. He was a devilishly
handsome international agent, and could be charming when he chose, but
his aloofness and secrecy turned him into a walking mystery. Actually,
she could have made him up from her own fantasies.
She only wished she had enough experience to take advantage of his appearance in her life.
The
yacht had returned at dawn, and at a quarter to four that afternoon
Underwood was ushered into the limo, driven across the street, then
hustled into the hotel. Already aware of the man's destination, Falcon
and Steve were able to follow at an unhurried pace. They were
temporarily detoured by the sight of his bodyguards checking
identification outside the conference room. But Steve had already
planned her entree into the room. She was dressed in a borrowed
waitress's uniform and wore her own curly red wig. All it had taken for
her to replace the waitress assigned to set up the coffee service was a
small bribe. The woman had been more than happy to take a break.
Now
Steve left Falcon at the end of the hallway with a promise to return to
the same spot within a half-hour. Hopefully, by that time, she would
have a commitment from Underwood to confer with them both privately.
Her intention was to confront him in front of his business associates,
when it would be to his advantage to talk to her.
Standing in the
shadows, Falcon closed his eyes and called on his newest gift. Making
his mind go blank, he thought: Steve. As before, a picture of her came
to him clearly. He saw her pushing the service cart past the guards and
into the meeting room. The board members were in the midst of a heated
discussion, several people appeared to be talking at once. Steve set up
the service on a table in the back of the room and took her time
looking around. Every chair around the big oval table was occupied, but
Underwood was not one of those present.
Steve left that room and
went into the next one down the hall. Another meeting, much more
subdued, was in progress. The three men who had boarded their houseboat
the night before were there, but again, there was no sign of Underwood
and no empty chair to signify someone's absence. There was only one
more room on this floor where meetings had been scheduled, and Steve
checked it out next, with the same disappointing results. They had
definitely seen Underwood enter the hotel minutes before they did, but
he was not where he was supposed to be.
There was no time to waste.
Falcon walked down the corridor and approached the two guards in front
of the conference room doors. Before they had a chance to stop him, he
raised his arms and touched each man's temple, freezing them in place.
Steve
pulled the cart out of the third room in a state of confusion. Nothing
was making sense. She looked up in time to see Falcon standing in front
of the two guards. He was touching them like he had done to her! As she
walked by, Falcon backed away from them and entered the elevator with
her.
"What were you doing? You could have blown the whole thing! Why did those guys let you touch them like that?"
"There was something I had to do."
"And?"
"It
was not successful." The two guards were little more than morons. They
only knew they had escorted Gordon Underwood to that floor and were to
prevent anyone matching Steve's or his description from entering any of
the rooms. Thanks to Steve's propensity for costumes, the two men had
failed in that respect.
Steve sighed. She would feel better if she
had some idea of what he was up to, but it was obvious he was not going
to say any more. One of these times she was going to stand her ground
and make him give her a straight answer for a change. "Well, don't feel
too bad. I just served coffee to a bunch of businessmen and didn't even
get a tip. It was another wild goose chase."
Falcon frowned. A wild
goose? Why had he not seen the creature? He realized his mistake when
Steve shook her head with an air of endless patience, then went on to
relate her movements. Falcon gave her his attention, nodding
occasionally, as if he had not seen exactly what had happened.
The
hours were slipping by, and they were no closer to Underwood than they
had been a week ago. They would have to try to get on board again
tonight.
Just as they started to cross the street, fortune smiled on
them. Underwood was entering his black limousine without his usual
entourage.
"Come on!" Steve shouted, and took off for her car parked
on the opposite side of the street. Falcon barely closed the door on
the passenger side when the car lunged out of the space and headed
south after the limo. She despaired that she had lost it when she
suddenly caught a glimpse of it moving west over the Arthur Godfrey
Causeway.
With a little experienced maneuvering, she closed the
distance, but remained concealed in the moderate traffic. At one point
she noticed Falcon clutching the dashboard, but she did not want to
take the time to assure him of her abilities. It was taking all her
concentration to watch the limo and follow the expressway signs. A
series of lane changes took them into the city of Miami. The fact that
Underwood was making this trip without bodyguards, at a time when
everyone thought he was in a meeting, led Steve to believe she would be
well rewarded if she could stay on his tail.
Once they exited the
expressway, it became extremely difficult to follow the limo without
sticking close, but every time Steve thought she had made a wrong turn,
the black limo would come into view. The quality of the city
deteriorated a block at a time, until they were in the midst of an area
that sported the special street lamps used predominantly in high-crime
neighborhoods.
Underwood's chauffeur pulled the car to a stop in
front of a four-story building that should have been condemned, but the
evidence of a few drapes and a sheet hanging out a glassless window
indicated that people lived there. Steve stopped close enough to survey
the immediate area around the limo. There was not a building on the
block that was habitable. Broken garbage bags and trash littered the
sidewalks and fenced-in dirt yards. Several small groups of young
blacks lounged in front of doorways, drinking from containers in brown
paper bags, and sharing their smokes. Apparently, black leather jackets
were out this year; black sweatsuits were the uniform of the day, in
spite of the heat. Several ghetto-blasters competed for the greatest
volume, and both the limo and her car were noted with considerable
interest by more than one of the music lovers.
Even though it was
not yet dark, Steve knew this was not a place she should have come to
unarmed. She also knew Underwood had some shady dealings from time to
time, but whatever he was doing here went far beyond shady.
Underwood stepped out of the car and headed toward one of the apartments.
Steve pressed on the gas pedal and spun out with a squeal. She slammed on the brakes right behind the limo.
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