Trust Me (36 page)

“I have to be certain that this is not another one of your clever little tricks. Switch on the computer and punch up ARCANE. Turn the screen toward me.”

“Whatever you say.” Stark walked to the edge of the light and went down on one knee.

He set the laptop on the stage, opened it, and tapped out a series of commands.

Desdemona could not see the screen from where she was standing, but she heard the harsh sound of a quickly indrawn breath filtered through the speakers. The screen had obviously lit up.

There was movement at the back of the theater. Desdemona turned her head, startled. She realized that the man with the robot's voice had left the lighting booth. He was walking down the center aisle, microphone in hand. The white glare of the spot behind him made it impossible to see anything more than his dark, shadowed shape.

“Very good,” the robot said with great satisfaction. “I didn't think that you would play games with me. Not when her life was at stake.”

“You were right,” Stark said.

“I've always understood what makes people tick. I know what motivates them. You were never any good at that kind of thing.”

“No, I guess not.”

“Slide the computer to the edge of the stage and then stand back.” The voice still blared from the speakers even though the faceless gunman loomed in the aisle between the first two rows of seats.

Stark placed the laptop at the very edge of the stage, outside the ring of light. Then he moved back to join Desdemona and Ian.

“I appreciate your cooperation,” the amplified voice said.

A black-gloved hand stretched out of the shadows to close the lid of the laptop.

The instant that the robot's fingers touched the metal case a scream of anguish screeched horribly through the loud-speakers.

Desdemona winced. Instinctively she covered her ears with her hands to deaden the metallic shriek that bounced off the walls.

“What the hell…” Ian whispered.

Out of the corner of her eye, Desdemona saw Stark move. He launched himself toward the faceless shadow as it recoiled from the laptop and fell back against the seats.

Stark dove off the stage and crashed into the reeling figure. Something clattered on the floor.

“The gun.” Desdemona ran forward.

Once past the ring of fierce white light she was plunged into a swampy blackness. She stopped, blinking quickly in an attempt to adjust to the darkness.

The crashing sounds of the battle taking place in the front row made her whirl toward the right.

She could just make out the violently heaving shadows of Stark and the gunman. They reared up, toppled, and collapsed into the second row. She heard dull, sickening thuds and savage grunts.

Desdemona took another step and halted abruptly when her toe struck an object on the floor.

She bent down and groped around on the cold concrete. Her fingers closed over a gun. She picked it up carefully, startled by the weight of it.

She could see more clearly with each passing second. Stark's head and shoulders surged up above the first row of seats. She saw his fist raised.

He struck.

With a soundless sigh, the man with the voice of a robot collapsed between the first and second rows.

A sharp, piercing quiet settled on the theater.

“Stark, are you okay?”

“Get the lights.” He stood upright and gazed down at the man on the floor. “Hurry.”

Desdemona glanced at Ian. “Where's the control panel for the house lights?”

“In the light booth,” Ian said quickly.

Desdemona put the gun down on a front-row seat and dashed up the short aisle. She found the flight of stairs to the lighting booth, went inside, and stared at the panel of switches arrayed in front of her.

She worked quickly, flipping switches at random until she had doused the bright spot and turned up the houselights. Then she peered through the opening of the booth.

Stark hoisted his victim up into an aisle seat. The man flopped there like a stunned fish. Desdemona could only see the back of his head and shoulders. She frowned. There was something familiar about him.

“Who is it?” she asked.

Stark looked up at the booth. His brows rose in surprise. “I thought you knew.”

“No. Ian and I never saw his face.”

“Probably because he didn't want you to be able to identify him,” Stark said. He looked down at the man in the seat. “You were hoping you wouldn't have to kill again, weren't you, McCallum? It wasn't easy the first time, was it?”

“The bastard tried to blackmail me after he screwed up the job.” Dane's voice, no longer disguised by mechanical amplification, was barely audible. “He sent one last message through the anonymous server. Told me he knew who I was. He was lying, but I didn't realize it at the time.”

“Tate tracked you as far as Stark Security Systems,” Stark said. “The same way I did. Then he smoked you out with a bluff.”

“I panicked. Told him I'd meet him at Right Touch to make the first payoff. I disguised myself in case I was seen.”

“You killed Tate. Then you tried to cast Tony Wainwright in the role of murderer and would-be thief. You knew I was already suspicious of him.”

“He was the obvious fall guy,” Dane said wearily. “I needed him in case you got too close to the truth.”

“You were on your way out of Right Touch when Desdemona arrived.”

“I didn't want to kill her. Just scare her. I knew she couldn't recognize me. I figured I was safe if I just kept my head. But everything started to come apart after that. This afternoon when I saw the e-mail message waiting for me, I knew something else had gone wrong. I figured it was a trap.”

“You were right,” Stark said. “So why the second attempt to get hold of ARCANE tonight? Why didn't you just disappear? You could have been out of the country by now.”

Dane lifted his head. “I couldn't leave without ARCANE. I made a deal with some people.”

“Anyone I know?”

Dane was silent for a moment. “Kilburn.”

“Kilburn? That traitor from the Rosetta Institute? You were a fool, McCallum. If you were dealing with Kilburn, you were in over your head from the start.”

“Damn it, it was my idea, not his.” Dane's voice was unexpectedly violent, almost anguished. “I'm the one who worked out the plan. I contacted Kilburn. Arranged to find Vernon Tate and get him on Desdemona's staff. I set everything up. It was brilliant.”

“And now it's all in pieces,” Stark said quietly.

Dane's head sagged in defeat. “You always were the brains of the outfit.”

“That's where you're wrong,” Stark said. “I can't be all that smart. After all, I trusted you, didn't I?”

Desdemona was worried about Stark.

Later that evening, ensconced in her favorite red leather chair, she surreptitiously kept an eye on his grim, unreadable face while he answered questions from the Wainwright clan, his brothers, and Ian Ivers.

A somber, melancholic mood had settled on him even before the authorities had arrived to handcuff Dane and take him away.

Stark had refused to discuss whatever if was that had settled like a cloud on his spirits, but he didn't need to spell it out. Desdemona knew that he was blaming himself for having put her in harm's way.

She did not know how to ease his mind. Stark was a man who would always be harder on himself than on anyone else.

“What the heck did you do to the laptop?” Henry asked. “Ian said it acted like some kind of stun gun.”

“It did.” Stark stretched out his legs, shoved his hands into his pockets, and regarded the small crowd of eager listeners. “I rigged it so that it would deliver an electrical jolt to whoever touched the case. I set the charge when I punched up ARCANE for him.”

“Smart.” Henry's grin held genuine admiration. “Like a scene out of a James Bond film.”

“Except that Stark's hero was obviously Q, the guy who designed the high-tech toys, not Bond,” Benedick remarked approvingly.

Tony turned a chair around and straddled it. He rested his arms on the back. “Stark rigged the case this afternoon just as soon as he realized that Dane McCallum was behind the attempt to steal ARCANE.”

“Jason and I helped him,” Kyle said proudly. “Didn't we, Sam?”

“Couldn't have done it without you,” Stark said.

Desdemona stirred. “Dane was jealous of Stark, you know. That's why he did it. He wanted to prove that he was smarter than Stark. That he could be the star of the show.”

Stark glanced at her, frowning. “How do you know that?”

She shrugged. “The way he talked there at the end. It was obvious.”

There was a small silence while everyone considered that. Then Tony spoke.

“Stark knew that sooner or later the thief would try again, and he wanted to be ready. It worked, didn't it?”

“Yes,” Stark said. “It worked. But not quite as planned. I failed to consider the possibility that McCallum would use Desdemona as a hostage.”

“How could you have known?” Desdemona said quickly. “Stark, you mustn't blame yourself for what happened.”

He looked at her with expressionless eyes. Her heart sank.

Benedick frowned. “When did you conclude that it was McCallum who was behind all this nonsense?”

Stark took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Desdemona reminded me that whoever was responsible for Tate's death knew a hell of a lot about my personal life. And hers.”

Desdemona blushed. “I was starting to get a little paranoid. I even had a few unkind thoughts about Ian.”

“Me?” Ian looked pained.

“Good heavens.” Kirsten's eyes widened. “Ian?”

“It wasn't such a far-out guess.” Stark put on his glasses. “The list of people who could have figured out how to get into Stark Security Systems computers was unknowable. But the list of people who were at least passingly computer literate and who also knew a lot about my relationship with Desdemona, and about you Wainwrights in general, was a lot shorter.”

“When he started going down the list this morning, he put McCallum's name at the top,” Tony said. “That's when he worked out the trick with the laptop. He had already sent an e-mail message designed to lure the killer out into the open. The fish took the bait.”

“But the fish had some bait of his own.” Stark looked at Desdemona. “I want to emphasize that what happened next was not part of the plan.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” Ian muttered. He touched his head gingerly. “Not that it did me or Desdemona any good.”

“No,” Stark said heavily. “What happened to the two of you was my fault. I owe you, Ivers.”

Ian brightened. He gave Stark a speculative look. “Well, now that you mention it…”

“And I owe Desdemona,” Stark said.

“Forget it. I'll collect later.” Desdemona reached out to touch his hand. His fingers did not close around hers as she hoped they would.

“You're a hero, Stark,” Tony said wryly. “Why fight it?”

Desdemona saw Stark's jaw tighten. “The important thing is that we're all safe. The nightmare is over.”

“Not quite,” Stark said.

Everyone looked at him.

“I'd like to get my hands on Kilburn,” Stark said softly. “According to McCallum, he'll be arriving at the airport late tonight to pick up ARCANE.”

Tony's brows came together in a thoughtful frown. “He won't show when he learns that McCallum's been arrested.”

“He doesn't know about that,” Stark said. “The Feds took charge of the case this afternoon, and they've arranged to keep everything hushed up until tomorrow.”

“They can do that?” Henry asked.

“Yes,” Stark said. “The case is in their territory because it involves an attempt to steal restricted technology and take it out of the country.”

“So what happens now?” Tony asked curiously.

“We're going to set another trap,” Stark said.

Tony straightened in his chair. “Yeah?”

Jason bounced up and down. “What kind of trap?”

“The Feds would very much like to catch Kilburn in the act of buying ARCANE.” Stark looked at Tony. “To do that they need an actor. Someone who can impersonate Dane McCallum long enough to trick Kilburn into going through with the deal.”

Tony grinned slowly. “Well, what do you know. It just so happens that I'm between engagements at the moment.”

Alarmed, Celia glanced from Tony to Stark. “Will it be dangerous?”

“Of course not,” Tony said swiftly. “There's nothing to worry about, is there, Stark?”

“No guarantees,” Stark said carefully, “but it should be as safe as these things get. According to McCallum, the exchange is scheduled to be made at SeaTac Airport tonight. Kilburn is supposed to arrive, pick up ARCANE, and leave within an hour on an international flight. The Feds will be there, ready to move in as soon as Kilburn accepts ARCANE.”

“Piece of cake,” Tony said.

Desdemona smiled. “You've always been very good in the role of hero, Tony.”