Trust Me (18 page)

“Damn.” Stark hesitated. He was not in a mood to talk to Alison, but he supposed there was no avoiding it. “I'll take it. Tell McCallum to wait.” He punched line two. “This is Stark.”

“Sam? This is Alison. I called to see how the boys are doing.”

“They're doing fine.” Stark studied the screen of his electronic calendar, mentally reviewing his schedule for the day. He wondered if Desdemona would be free for lunch.

“You're sure?”

The odd note in her voice got his full attention. “Of course, I'm sure. I just sent them off with their babysitter.”

“You've got a babysitter for them?” Alison sounded flabbergasted.

“A friend of mine recommended him. He's got them involved in a children's theater project. They gave their first performance on Saturday, and it was a smash hit.”

“Good grief. I had no idea Jason and Kyle were interested in theater.”

“Is there a problem here, Alison? Because I've got a busy schedule today.” Stark found a pair of scissors in his desk drawer. He went to work on the box his mother had sent.

“No, there's no problem here,” Alison paused. “To be frank, I called because I thought that you'd be more than ready to pack Jason and Kyle up and ship them back to Portland by now.”

“Like I said, they're doing fine.”

“No offense, but I'm amazed to hear that. Maybe their therapist was right.”

“About what?”

“Jason and Kyle may see you as a substitute for Hudson.” Her voice dropped to a confidential tone. “You know, I was at my wit's end the night they ran off to Seattle.”

“Forget it.” Stark got the tape undone. He lifted the top of the box.

“I've been having intensive stress reduction sessions with my own therapist. I'm feeling much calmer now.”

“That's nice.” Stark picked up the card that was lying on top of the tissue paper. It read:

Stark lifted several layers of tissue paper. A crystal punch bowl glittered inside the box. He was pretty sure he recognized it.

“Sam? Sam, are you listening to me?”

“I'm listening, Alison.” Stark transferred the punch bowl to another table.

“I needed some space. I still do.”

“Uh-huh.” Stark switched on his computer.

“My therapist says that the stress I'm under has over-whelmed me, and the boys sense it. It makes them feel insecure.”

“Right.” Stark scanned his e-mail messages. He paused when he saw a familiar name and address.

[email protected]

“It's been very difficult for all of us,” Alison said defiantly.

“Right.” Stark hadn't heard from Sellinger in months. He wondered why the director of the Rosetta Institute had contacted him today. The e-mail message was short and to the point.

Please call. Urgent.

“I appreciate your taking Jason and Kyle for a while. We all needed a break from each other.”

“Right.”

“At first the boys actually blamed me for the fact that Hudson walked out, you know. Their therapist says that's normal, and I've tried to be understanding, but their attitude has definitely added to my overall stress level.”

“Right.”

“Dr. Titus, that's the boys' therapist, has worked with them very extensively. He's tried to make them realize that the breakup of the marriage had nothing to do with them.”

“Right.”

“But they've been extremely uncooperative. Rude and sullen.”

“Right.”

“You're sure they're not a problem?”

“I'm sure.” Stark hit a key to pull up his personal list of phone numbers that he kept stored in the computer.

“In that case,” Alison said in a cautious tone, “the boys' therapist has recommended that I take a vacation.”

“With him?”

There was a short, brittle silence. “Have the boys mentioned Dr. Titus to you?”

“They said you're having an affair with him.”

“They know about my relationship with Cliff?” Alison asked in a strangled voice.

“Yeah.” Stark found Sellinger's number.

“It's okay, you know,” Alison said swiftly. “There's absolutely nothing wrong with my seeing Dr. Titus. He's their therapist, not mine.”

“Right.”

“I have my own therapist, Dr. Lachlan, and he says that it's good for me to have a relationship at this particular point in my life.”

“Right.”

“He says it's just what I need to rebuild my shattered self-esteem.”

“Sure.”

“He says I have to get past the sense of guilt and the anger.”

“Uh-huh. Look, Alison, this kind of psychobabble always confuses me. Kyle and Jason are fine. I've told you that they can stay with me for the rest of the summer. Go ahead and take your vacation with your therapist.”

“Dr. Titus is not my therapist. I told you that. He's the boys' therapist. Dr. Lachlan is mine.”

“Hell, take them both on vacation if you like. I don't really give a damn.”

“There's no need to be sarcastic,” Alison said stiffly.

“I'm not trying to be sarcastic, I'm trying to get off the phone so that I can get some work done.”

“I'll call the boys this evening and say good-bye.”

Stark took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Do you want some advice?”

“What advice?” she asked warily.

“Don't tell Jason and Kyle that you're going off on vacation with their therapist.”

“There is nothing wrong with my relationship with Dr. Titus,” Alison snapped.

“I didn't say there was. I just suggested that you don't make a big deal out of it with Jason and Kyle. It's hard enough for them to figure out who's sleeping with whom at the moment.”

“They have to face reality,” Alison said. “Damn it, I'm a mature adult. I refuse to pretend that I don't have adult needs. Jason and Kyle must understand that just because their father walked out, that doesn't mean that I don't have a right to a loving, caring relationship.”

Stark wished he had kept his mouth shut. “Sure. Sorry I mentioned it.”

“Their father is screwing his brains out with that bimbo assistant of his, you know.”

“I know. Alison, all I'm suggesting is a little discretion.”

“Discretion? You think that bastard, Hudson, is showing discretion? He and that blonde have gone off to Hawaii, for God's sake. I'm the one who got left with two children to raise. I'm the one who has to worry about keeping a roof over our heads. I'm the one who has to provide new shoes and put food on the table and pay for college.”

“No.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever happens, you won't have to worry about keeping Jason and Kyle housed and fed, and you won't have to worry about their education,” Stark said quietly.

“I've got news for you, Stark, Hudson convinced the judge that he only needs to pay minimum child support because I have a career. But I can assure you that I don't make nearly enough in my interior design business to maintain the standard of living that the boys and I had before the divorce. Hudson's support payments, assuming he even bothers to make them, won't make up the difference.”

“I'll see that you and Jason and Kyle are taken care of.”

There was a startled silence on the other end of the line. “Why would you do that?” Alison asked blankly.

“Because—” Stark broke off, unsure of what he wanted to say. “Forget it. Just don't worry about the money. You'll be all right. I really have to go now, Alison.”

“All right,” Alison said slowly. “Sam, I—”

“Good-bye, Alison.”

“Good-bye.”

As soon as the line went dead, Stark dialed Sellinger's number at the Rosetta Institute. He was put through at once.

“Stark, thanks for getting back to me.”

Sellinger's plumy voice provoked memories. Stark experienced a brief pang of nostalgia for his days at the Institute. He had gone there immediately after graduating from college. It had been a somewhat cloistered existence, as Desdemona had guessed, but it had also been an important part of his life.

Stark had always respected Sellinger as a man of many talents. The old man was savvy, both in the ways of politics and in terms of sheer intellectual ability. The combination made him an ideal director for the Institute. He had held the post for fifteen years.

“Good to hear from you, sir,” Stark said.

“I regret to say that this is a business matter, not a social one,” Sellinger said apologetically. “Wanted to let you know that Kilburn has resurfaced. Somewhere in Europe, we believe. You asked me to keep you posted on new developments.”

Stark leaned back in his chair and thought about Leonard Kilburn.

Kilburn had held the title of a department manager at the Rosetta Institute. He had worked on the management side, rather than the technical side.

He had vanished from the Institute two and a half years earlier. Sellinger had notified Stark that an extremely sensitive encryption program had vanished with him. The program had been designed by Stark during his days at the Institute.

As with most of the software that Stark had worked on while at the Rosetta Institute, the encryption software had been restricted by the U.S. Government for security reasons.

Kilburn had illegally sold Stark's high-tech programs to a foreign government. He had very likely made a fortune on the deal, because there were fortunes to be made in the murky world of restricted technology sales. The field was not as lucrative as international arms dealing, but it was catching up fast. In fact, the two business frequently overlapped. Most high-tech weaponry was linked, one way or another, to computer programming, and military intelligence depended heavily on it.

Fortunately, Stark had designed a hidden self-destruct feature into the encryption software Kilburn had stolen. It had triggered as soon as the foreign buyer had tried to install the program. No damage had been done, but everyone was aware that it had been a close call.

Kilburn, however, had vanished.

“Interesting,” Stark said. “How did you find Kilburn?”

“Apparently he tried to broker a deal for some restricted software that was stolen from a weapons lab in Virginia. We got wind of it. Tried to track him through the computer link he used. Unfortunately, we scared him off before we could pin down his location. Have no idea what he's up to or what he'll do next, but I thought you ought to know he hasn't disappeared for good.”

“I didn't think he would.”

Sellinger chuckled, a rich, fruity sound. “I doubt he'll come anywhere close to Stark Security Systems. He's smart enough to realize that you took the theft of the encryption program two years ago rather personally.”

“That was my design that he stole.”

“Yes, I know. Luckily for us and our friends in Washington, you had it well protected. Well, I just wanted to bring you up to date.”

“I appreciate the news.”

“I realize you've wanted to get your hands on Kilburn ever since he made off with those programs,” Sellinger said. “So have I. If you pick up any traces of him, let me know.”

“I will.”

“Good luck. Oh, by the way, sorry I couldn't make it to your wedding.”

“You didn't miss a thing,” Stark said.

“You don't mean—”

“Afraid so.”

Sellinger sighed. “Sorry to hear that.”

“When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.”

“What the devil does that mean?”

“Every cloud has a silver lining.” Stark smiled to himself. “I'm now dating the caterer.”

“Good lord.”

The knock on the office door interrupted Stark before he could tell Sellinger the whole story. Dane walked into the office and raised his eyebrows in silent inquiry when he saw that Stark was on the phone. Stark waved him to a chair.

“Dane just came in,” Stark said to Sellinger.

“Say hello to him for me,” Sellinger said. “You two seem to be doing rather well out there on your own. Congratulations. Good-bye, Stark.”

Stark hung up the phone. “That was Sellinger. He sends his regards.”

Dane looked mildly surprised. “What did he want?”

“He was bringing me up to date on Kilburn. He says the bastard resurfaced again recently.”

Dane whistled softly. “Any idea of where he is?”

“No. They weren't able to pinpoint him. He's gone to ground again.”

Dane grinned. “Relax. He's not your problem anymore. Someone at the Institute will track him down one of these days.”