by MJ Rodgers
“This is my second time,” Ken said. He looked at Deann. “I really enjoyed my last time here so I thought I’d give it another try. Didn’t I, Dee?”
“Ken and I met here a year ago,” Deann said by way of explanation, looking confident that she was the reason Ken had enjoyed his last stay.
Zane tried his salad. All he could taste was sour Roquefort cheese chunks.
“You recognize any other repeat attendees here this weekend?” A.J. asked.
Ken swung around in his chair. “Yeah. Babs and Bix Nelson. They’re the fiftyish couple sitting at the next table. The ex Mr. and Mrs. Blob.”
“The ex Mr. and Mrs. Blob?” A.J. repeated.
“Well, it’s obvious they’ve gotten into the fitness fad since the last time I saw them. Look pretty good for old folks, actually. Must have lost fifty pounds between them, wouldn’t you say, Dee?”
“Yeah, they look good,” she said. Since the subject wasn’t her, she sounded bored with it.
“Got to give them credit,” Ken said. “I wouldn’t have even recognized old Bix except for that telltale fishing hat he wears constantly. It’s there to cover his bald spot.”
Zane located Bix and his fishing hat and the smiling woman sitting at his side. He personally wouldn’t have called someone in his fifties old, but since he judged Ken had yet to reach his thirtieth birthday, Zane supposed it was all a matter of perspective.
“Have you heard about those two women whose exhusbands are suing the park?” A.J. asked, her eyes focusing on Ken.
“Well, sure, I heard about them,” Ken admitted. “Of course, I wasn’t here that weekend, so all I know is what the TV says.”
“I was here,” Deann said.
“Really? Do you remember them?” A.J. asked.
“Yeah, a little. You could tell they were friends although there was probably ten years’ difference in their ages. The young one had this thinnish face with short straight blond hair. She would have looked better with it curled or waved or something.”
“Did you get a chance to talk to them?” Zane asked, trying to keep A.J. from making her focused interest any more obvious.
“No. They had each other to talk to so they didn’t socialize much. They sat in the corner of the rec room between fantasies. Played cards or checkers or something like that.”
“Did they seem to be having a good time?” A.J. pressed.
“Sure. They laughed and talked and such,” Deann said. “Everybody has a good time here.”
A.J. directed her attention to Ken. “What do you think of the husbands’ claim that their wives left them because of their fantasy experiences here at the park?”
“If their wives met some other guys here who turned them on, that I’d buy. But claiming their fantasy programs were responsible? No way.”
Ken turned to Deann as he picked up his wineglass. “Clarise said she’d give us a discount if we couple this time, Dee. What do you say?”
“Maybe next time,” Deann said. “And if I get to pick the fantasy program.”
Ken frowned as he leaned back in his chair. “You just want to pick the fantasy so that everything revolves around you.”
“Is that how it works in coupling?” A.J. asked.
“Yeah,” Ken said, his eyes still on Deann, his voice turning slightly bitter. “If it’s a woman’s program, she directs the show and the guy plays to her tune.”
“And how would you know?” Deann asked.
Ken moved in closer to her. “Because I asked. And it’s not a role I care to have anymore, thank you.”
Deann turned an indifferent shoulder to his remark and deliberately scooted closer to Zane. Zane understood that she was using him to upset Beyette. From the visual daggers Beyette was sending him, Zane knew Deann’s scheme was working.
“Which program did you select, Margot?” Emma asked A.J.
“You are very good at remembering names,” A.J. said in a cautious response as she looked straight at the older woman.
“Oh, your name is easy to remember. Margot Lane. And he’s Lamont Cranston,” Emma said, pointing to Zane. “You see I used to listen to that old radio program, The Shadow. I overheard you two talking about it on the plane and remarking how interesting it was that you had those same names. Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”
“My name isn’t Margot,” A.J. said in a soft tone but with a sharp I-told-you-so glance at Zanc. “It’s Margaret.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Did I say something wrong?”
A.J. shook her head and sent Emma a small smile. “No, of course not. My name’s just Margaret, that’s all.”
“And what program did you pick, Margaret?” Emma asked again.
“Femme Fatale.”
“Oh, I went through that program my last visit,” Deann piped up immediately, excitement in her voice. “There’s nothing like it. It will really help to teach you about the right makeup, hairstyle and clothes to wear and give you a lot more confidence.”
“My, my, don’t we sound superior,” Ken said as he sipped his wine, pique clearly in his tone.
“I wasn’t trying to sound superior,” Deann said, leaning back and scowling at him. “It’s just that I can admit I learned a few things that helped to build my confidence.”
“Like you needed your confidence built.”
“I’ll have you know I used to be very shy,” Deann protested, although it was clear to Zane that she liked being told her confidence didn’t need to be built.
“Yeah, right.”
“And selective, too. Don’t make me regret my subsequent drop in standards.”
Ken laughed at Deann’s comeback. She seemed amused at her own witticism and joined in. Zane doubted Deann really returned Ken’s interest in her. Which didn’t bode well for Ken, if Zane read the depth of the young man’s feelings right.
Zane looked up to see Clarise Ingram pausing briefly at a table across the room. One by one, she made the rounds. When she stopped at their table, her smile seemed to broaden.
“Good to see you back, Deann, Ken,” she said. Her eyes swept briefly over the rest. “I hope you all enjoy your stay. Is everyone eager to return to their rooms after dinner and begin their first fantasy?”
An affirmative chorus gave her the expected reply. But just as she started to slip away to the next table, A.J. shot out a question.
“It’s so hard to get a reservation with the long waiting list. Are there any plans to expand the park?”
“The guest rooms are limited. But now that our programs have gained such a solid reputation with our patrons, we will be opening during the week soon to accommodate those on the waiting list more quickly.”
“Are you planning on opening any other facilities?” Zane asked.
“We are looking into the possibility of other sites. But finding a suitable place that offers both seclusion and adequate space is difficult.”
“Why is seclusion so important?” A.J. asked. “I would think that easy access to the park would enhance attendance.”
“Unfortunately, we have to protect our investment by keeping our technological achievements out of the hands of competitors,” Clarise said, her smile waning as she glanced at her wristwatch. She clearly hadn’t anticipated any lengthy discussions in her table greeting.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do need to say hello to patrons at other tables. Enjoy your stay, everyone.”
Clarise went quickly to the next table before she had to field any more questions.
A.J. switched her attention to Deann. “Is it coincidental that both you and Ken selected the exact same weekend to come back to Fabulous Fantasies?”
“Yeah,” Ken said, downing the last of his wine. “Real coincidental. I had to shut down my business and give my employees the weekend off to make it.”
“Your business?” Deann said. “Since when did you go into business for yourself?”
“Since two months ago when I opened up my own hang-gliding school. See what you missed by n
ot returning my calls?”
Deann ignored his last comment. “You like hang gliding?”
“Live for it,” Ken said as he leaned closer and circled his arm around Deann’s chair.
“I didn’t think you even liked planes.”
He scratched his beard, clearly annoyed by her comment. “Where did you get that idea?”
“Weren’t you the one who kept complaining about having to fly to get to the park last time? Didn’t you make a big stink about there not being a ferry across?”
“Oh, that. I just wanted to take my time to see the sights. And believe me, you can see the best sights hang gliding up there in the clouds.”
The waiter arrived with the main course, and everyone’s attention was immediately diverted to chicken breast on a bed of wild rice and some kind of golden sauce. The steam rose from his plate invitingly, but when Zane took his first forkful, he was disappointed to find the food tasted very bland.
“Well, they sure aren’t spending our money on the food,” Ralph grumbled suddenly from across the table, his first contribution to the conversation. Everyone laughed that nervous, guilty kind of laugh of a shared thought that someone had finally given voice to.
“Yeah,” Ken said. “But I came prepared this time. I’ve packed a dozen Snickers bars in my luggage.”
When Emma immediately offered five dollars for one, the laughter became a little more robust. Then the table grew silent again as they all concentrated on finishing their meal so they could get to their room and the real feast of the weekend—their fantasies.
Only Zane knew he and A.J. would be using the time a little differently. For them, the feast of their evening would be figuring out a foolproof plan of attack.
“THIS WAY,” A.J. said as she moved quickly down a hallway at the back of the huge metal building.
The rear hallway was much the same as the hallways leading to the guest rooms in the middle of the building. Here, as there, the plain white walls were interrupted periodically by plain white doors. There was one difference, however. The doors to each guest room were numbered. The ones in these back hallways were lettered.
“We won’t find anything useful back here,” Zane whispered close behind her.
A.J. ignored his protest as she pushed forward. If she could have shaken him, she would have. But his unshakable-shadow reputation had held tight.
A part of her was glad. She had learned something tonight at the dinner table when she saw the way Zane looked at her and then at Deann. He was not interested in Deann. He was interested in her. And considering the obvious physical attributes Deann possessed, his preference told A.J. that Zane was not just after a convenient body. That knowledge delighted her in ways she had forgotten were even possible.
“Trust me, there’s nothing back here worth pursuing,” Zane continued to argue.
A.J. kept her forward pace. “You didn’t have to come.”
“Oh, yes, I did. If they find us both back here, we can say that we got to talking and lost our way. So, you see, I have to stay with you to make sure you don’t get caught.”
“I’m not going to get caught.”
“Famous last words. I can tell you that behind most of these doors are just sleeping quarters for the staff.”
“How do you know that?”
“I asked one of the attendants.”
“And you feel confident this attendant told you the truth?”
He grinned. A.J. was certain she wasn’t going to like what followed that grin. She was right.
“She gave me her room letter and told me to drop by when she got off duty. She’d hardly do that if sensitive records were kept back here, now would she?”
“She may not know everything that’s kept back here.”
Zane shook his head. “A.J., I’m telling you. Nothing confidential will be.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it wouldn’t make sense. Look at the flimsy locks on these doors. My Discover Card could open them.”
“Flimsy locks could be part of the camouflage. Remember how well Linbow hid his computer in his Seattle office? And yet how easy it was to access the programs once found? The guy’s unpredictable. No doubt he has another office here on the island. It could be behind any of these doors.”
They turned a corner on A.J.’s last words and both halted. At the end of the long hallway was a door with a big letter X on it and a red sign that read: “Restricted to Authorized Personnel Only.”
“That’s it,” A.J. said as she hurried quickly toward it.
She was halfway down the hallway when Zane caught up with her. His hand shot out to stay her progress.
“Wait a minute.”
A.J. stopped and turned toward him. “Look, Zane, this is what I came to find. You’re not going to stop me now.”
She shook off his arm and proceeded. He followed.
“No, but Linbow is. A.J., look at how heavily the door is protected.”
“I see the video cameras. And the light sensors. They both just prove that what I’m looking for is behind that door. I’m going to take a closer look. I know what I’m doing. I won’t get in view of the cameras or trip an alarm.”
“There may be pressure sensors in the floor. Or heat sensors. A.J., at any moment someone could be coming out of that door full of hard questions as to what you’re—”
Right on cue, the door suddenly banged open and angry voices shot out. A red light in the ceiling immediately began to flash and rotate, like the light on a police vehicle. A.J. got a quick glimpse of a cave wall and a similar red, rotating light on the other side of the door.
There was no place to hide, no time to run up the long hallway. A.J. grabbed the closest doorknob and twisted. It was locked. They were trapped.
Chapter Eight
“I hope you have that Discover Card handy, Coltrane,” A.J. whispered as her heart jabbed into her nb cage.
“Already working on it,” Zane whispered as he slipped the card against the lock. “Damn,” he said in her ear.
“What’s wrong?”
“Apparently, this lock doesn’t take Discover. I’ll have to try Visa.”
Linbow came through the restricted door, his back to them, shouting at whoever was on the other side. “Give me a minute to deactivate the alarm,” he was saying, “or pretty soon we’re going to have our eardrums blown away and be doused with tear gas.”
“Hurry!” A.J. pleaded in a whisper thick with panic.
Not ten feet away from where A.J. and Zane hugged the door, Linbow stepped to the wall and placed his hand palm up on a panel while looking into a cameralike apparatus. A.J. recognized the actions. He had obviously installed a sophisticated palm-and-retina-reading identification system.
Fortunately, Linbow’s preoccupation with deactivating the alarm kept him from seeing them.
So far they had been very lucky. But their luck was about to run out. Any second now Linbow was going to turn. Any second now he was going to discover the couple plastered against the door.
“Zane,” A.J. whispered, “For heaven’s sake—”
The click of the lock interrupted her plea. The next instant Zane pulled her inside the room with him. Once safely out of sight behind the door, she let out a sigh of relief.
“That was close.”
“Too close,” he agreed.
“No, don’t shut the door the whole way,” she whispered as she swung around.
“I’m not,” he whispered back. “Let’s hear what they’re saying.”
A.J. and Zane crowded together to look through the slim opening.
“That should do it,” Linbow said as he stepped away from the panel. He turned to whoever was on the other side of the restricted door.
“Now, if you’ll just listen—” Linbow began.
“Who do you think you are, telling me what I should do?” an angry man’s voice screamed as Linbow backed up a couple of steps.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Linbow said as he continu
ed to step further into the hallway, making room for whoever was coming through. “I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I just think—”
“That’s where you made your mistake, Linbow. You are under the impression that I care what you think!”
A.J. watched as a silver-haired man in a motorized wheelchair rolled into the hallway. Linbow blocked her view of the man’s face as he continued to back away from the wheelchair. Clarise trailed the wheelchair, shaking her head as Linbow continued to bay his protest.
“It’s not just what I think. It’s what Dr. Ingram thinks, too,” Linbow protested. “For God’s sake, tell him, Clarise.”
“I do recommend intervention,” A.J. heard Clarise’s voice say in a much more conciliatory tone than Linbow’s obviously annoyed one. “She continues to be quite depressed—”
“She deserves to be depressed, the ungrateful cow!” the silver-haired man shouted. “Get out of my way, Linbow!”
“You are aware of her history. There was that regrettable pill-swallowing incident when she was eighteen,” Clarise continued, still in that conciliatory tone. “I’m sure none of us would want a repeat performance.”
The man in the wheelchair suddenly ceased his forward momentum. Linbow kept backing up, not having anticipated the stop. For the first time, A.J. got a glimpse of the man’s face. She felt a shock of surprise when she realized who he was.
“Don’t tell me what I want,” the wheelchair-bound man shouted, his face flushed with anger. “I’ll take care of her. You take care of my program. I want it fixed. And no more damn excuses. Is that clear?”
“Yes, of course,” Linbow said.
“Absolutely,” Clarise echoed.
It was pretty clear to A.J. that despite the man’s physical handicap, he was top dog in this trio.
The man pressed the control button on his wheelchair arm, and the high whine of its motor once more pierced the air. He peeled down the hallway at full speed, Linbow and Ingram trailing like disciplined puppies with their tails between their legs.
When they were out of sight and earshot, Zane spoke into A.J.’s ear. “It seems I was wrong. There was something to be learned back here. That built-in divining rod you have was right on target.”
