Nancy Herkness

by Shower Of Stars

  “Baby-sitting!” Charlie huffed indignantly.

  “Wrong word. How about ‘providing protection from circling wolves’?” Jack conceded, as he stopped beside a couple standing near the Willamette Meteorite. “Kate, Randall, I’d like you to meet my new wife, Charlie. Charlie, Kate and Randall Johnson.”

  Charlie found herself shaking hands with a small, attractive woman with auburn hair and a tall, dark man with killer cheekbones.

  “Randall financed a couple of my early expeditions. In fact, I wouldn’t have been able to build my business without him.”

  “It was a risk-free investment with you leading the charge. How could I resist?” Randall said with a noticeable Texas drawl.

  Jack shook his head. “He took a major gamble on me,” he said to Charlie.

  “And it paid off handsomely,” Kate chimed in. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Charlie, and best wishes on your marriage. Jack is much too good at keeping secrets from his friends. You and I will have to have lunch together, so I can find out all about your mysterious romance.”

  Charlie hated lying to people who clearly held Jack in high esteem.

  “Sounds great. I’d love to.”

  “Your dress is spectacular,” Kate continued.

  “Thanks. Stephen Askegaard designed it as a favor for a friend of mine,” she said, looking daggers at Jack.

  “I hear you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in international politics,” Randall said to Jack. “If you need any help, I can talk to some folks.”

  “Thanks, but I very wisely married a well-connected woman. She has a buddy in the American Mission who has been invaluable.”

  Charlie felt a rush of gratification at the acknowledgment.

  A good-looking blond teenager hurried up to the group. “Hey, Jack. This is so cool. Thanks for letting us come.”

  “You’re always welcome at my parties, Clay. You and your brother behave better than most of the adults,” Jack said, as the two shook hands.

  Kate laughed. “This is my son, Clay. Clay, Ms. Berglund, Jack’s new wife.”

  Clay’s eyes widened as he took in Charlie in all her splendor. “Nice to meet you.” He shook hands before turning to Jack. “I didn’t know you got married.”

  “Neither did anyone else,” Randall said.

  “Um, congratulations,” the young man said.

  “Where’s your brother?” Kate asked.

  “He’s over finding out how much he weighs on the sun,” Clay said. “He doesn’t think the scales are accurate.”

  Randall laughed. “I’d better go find him before he takes the scale apart to recalibrate it.”

  They said their good-byes. As Jack steered her toward another group of people, she heard Clay say, “Wow, Mom, she’s gorgeous.”

  Charlie’s lips curved into a pleased smile. At least she could impress fourteen-year-olds.

  “You’ve conquered yet another susceptible heart,” Jack murmured.

  “My path is littered with them,” Charlie said flippantly. Then she sobered. “You know, I’ve heard of Randall Johnson. He’s a very powerful man, and much better connected than I am. You might want to take him up on his offer of assistance.”

  “He’s done enough for me already. He doesn’t owe me anything more.”

  “You’re very big on this debt thing,” Charlie said. “Your friends don’t help you because they owe you; they help you because they’re your friends.”

  “I just like to keep my budget balanced, sugar.”

  “Jack Lanett!” A man’s voice came from their left.

  As they turned, Jack’s grip on her became slightly convulsive.

  “Dr. Burke, you honor us with your presence,” he said, extending his right hand.

  Charlie remembered the man as the agitator from Jack’s question-and-answer session. Up close he was even more striking, the jet-black hair contrasting sharply with intensely blue eyes. If she weren’t a married woman, she’d consider him compellingly attractive.

  The two men stood measuring each other in silence, and for a moment, Charlie had a weird sense of seeing double. Then Jack made the introductions, and Peter Burke politely congratulated them.

  “I’d like to set up a meeting with you as soon as possible.” The bio-astronomer spoke in the same southern cadences as her husband.

  Jack’s eyebrows rose. “In reference to?”

  “Sahara-Mars.”

  “I thought the consortium was a dead issue.”

  “I’d rather discuss it privately,” the younger man said, glancing at the tightly packed guests.

  “I’m just trying to make sure there’s something to discuss,” Jack said.

  “There is, I assure you,” Dr. Burke snapped.

  “As long as you’re not wasting my time,” Jack said, pulling a business card and gold pen out of his pocket. “Tomorrow at five at this address.” He scrawled his apartment’s street address on the card and handed it to the scientist.

  “I know he was obnoxious at your lecture, but you were quite rude to him,” Charlie said after they said good-bye and strolled away.

  “A little evening of the score.”

  “He reminds me of you.”

  “Peter Burke? We’re about as different as two people can be.”

  “Not really. You have the same intensity. And the same accent.”

  “But he’s got a Ph.D. and an attitude.”

  Charlie laughed at that.

  “By the way, what do you have on under this outfit?” Jack asked, splaying his fingers over the join between her hip and thigh and gently kneading the soft fabric.

  “Nothing. It would ruin the line of the gown,” Charlie quoted airily.

  His fingers dug into the velvet.

  “Damnation. I’ve already got enough on my mind.”

  His grip loosened, but as he slid his arm away from her waist, his fingers brushed low across her buttocks, making her gasp.

  “A little treat for both of us,” he drawled as he placed her hand sedately in the crook of his elbow.

  Seventeen

  A ripple of murmurs began flowing through the crowd. Jack’s smile never flickered, but Charlie felt tension in his body as the sound seemed to increase in volume. Jack pivoted to his right, where the whispering was most prominent, and extended his hand. “Curt, a pleasure to see you,” he said.

  The billionaire who coveted the meteorite. Charlie peered around Jack’s shoulder to get a glimpse of him. Her first thought was he’s short, but standing next to Jack made most people look short. He was fiftyish, balding, had a ruddy complexion, and was surveying her with an avid gleam in his eye. As Jack introduced her, she held out her hand. She almost grimaced when he took it, then laid his left hand over it.

  “Trust you to find an exquisitely beautiful wife,” he said to Jack. “You’ve always had the eye of a connoisseur.”

  Charlie raised an eyebrow but refrained from saying she was not a collectible.

  “Charlie’s a well-known journalist,” Jack said, earning him her undying gratitude. “Hello, Eileen,” he continued, greeting Curt Vandermade’s agent.

  “Jack, I’d like you to meet the world’s foremost authority on geological rarities, Dr. Reginald Hollinger,” Eileen said.

  Charlie caught the skepticism in Jack’s eye, and she disliked Dr. Hollinger almost instantly. Tall and very thin with a carefully styled head of snow-white hair, Hollinger responded to Jack’s polite greeting by raising his brows, with the air of a scientist observing some low, dull form of life.

  “I’d like Reginald to get a look at your space rock,” Vandermade said, “just for insurance.”

  “He’ll have the same access to it as all the bidders,” Jack said noncommittally.

  “You’ve got a significant problem to solve before the auction,” Hollinger said.

  “What’s that?” Jack drawled.

  “Mauritania’s claim on Sahara-Mars,” Hollinger answered. “A find of this importance might rightfully belong in the co
untry where it fell.”

  “What he means,” Eileen Kushen glared at Hollinger, “is that Mr. Vandermade cannot possibly place a sizeable bid on the meteorite without an undisputed transfer of ownership.”

  Charlie watched Hollinger as he comprehended his faux pas. He tilted his head back and regarded Eileen Kushen down his long narrow nose. At the same time, he hooked his left index finger inside his ear and pulled his ear lobe downward as though he couldn’t quite hear what she was saying. “Precisely,” he said dismissively.

  “Rest assured any such issues will be taken care of before the auction,” Jack said. “I don’t sell meteorites that don’t belong to me.”

  Eileen turned her glare on him. There was obviously a story there.

  “Please excuse us, gentlemen … and ladies,” Jack said, with a glance at Eileen. “My wife and I have to prepare for the presentation of Sahara-Mars.”

  He slid his hand around her waist once again and steered Charlie through the crowd toward the Hall of Planet Earth. Miguel fell into step with them. Jack nodded to the two guards stationed at the entrance to the darkened exhibit area. The three of them walked up a set of steps, stopping when they arrived at a metal railing.

  The railing encircled a small sunken amphitheater. Two flights of black stone stairs leading down into the circle interrupted the sweep of railing on either side. Focused spotlights lit the perimeter, while darkness enveloped the center. Charlie could just make out a dark square column rising from the floor.

  Several technicians were consulting with each other on the terraced steps.

  “Turn it on,” one called out.

  Overhead, a huge half-globe set into the ceiling lit up with a display of the night sky. Suddenly, an explosion of meteors streaked across the constellations.

  “Great. We’ve got it,” the technician approved.

  “Wow!” Charlie said. “That’s stunning.”

  Jack smiled.

  “We weren’t sure if it was going to work,” Miguel said. “Usually, the globe displays satellite images of the earth viewed from outer space. It took some jiggering to get the view turned the other way.”

  “Mr. Lanett, could you come over here,” a technician called from the other side of the amphitheater. “We want to check the lighting on you.”

  “On my way,” Jack responded. “Charlie, why don’t you stand with me?”

  “I’m flattered, but no thanks. This is your show,” she said. “I’m going to call and check on Sallyanne. Then I’ll hang out with Miguel.” She reached for her purse and shook her head in annoyance. “Darn it! I gave my purse to Alina, and it’s got my phone in it.”

  “Here, use mine,” Jack said, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket.

  “Thanks,” Charlie said, accepting the phone. It radiated the warmth of Jack’s body heat, just as the car keys had all those weeks ago. This time she closed her fingers around it without hesitation.

  Isabelle reported all was going smoothly.

  “What do you think of him?” Charlie asked.

  “Well, he’s a bit of a good ole boy,” Isabelle said. “But you can’t blame him for where he grew up. He’s very nice with Sallyanne.” Relief flooded Charlie. If Isabelle thinks Don McGraw is okay, he probably is. “However,” the older woman continued, “I don’t like the way he looks around your house. As though he’s calculating something.”

  So much for relief. “What do you mean?” Charlie squeaked.

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. You enjoy your party!” Isabelle hung up.

  Enjoy the party? She was going to stew over that comment for the rest of the night!

  Miguel beckoned her over to his post by a huge red boulder in a glass case. From there, she could see the whole open space including the entrance. As the guests began to climb the stairs into the exhibit hall, two tripod-mounted television cameras swiveled, their red “on” lights glowing.

  It was truly a photogenic crowd: the men’s dark tuxedos provided the perfect foil for the evening dresses swirling or clinging in a full spectrum of colors. The dramatic lighting brought out the maximum glitter from jewels liberally scattered on ears, throats, wrists, and fingers. Charlie rotated her own wrist, and her bracelet sparked with diamond fire. The chattering voices dropped to murmurs as people filed down the steps of the amphitheater and took their positions standing on the descending stone tiers.

  Charlie noticed Curt Vandermade and his group had appropriated space in the front row, as close to the darkened display case as possible. She examined them each in turn. Vandermade stood with his arms folded, scowling at the opaque box in front of him. Eileen Kushen chatted animatedly with the woman standing next to her. Probably trying to sign up another client. Dr. Hollinger evidently disapproved of the conversation because he was tugging at his ear lobe again.

  The last guests filed down the steps, and Miguel nodded toward someone across the room. The lights at the entrance blinked out. Now, only artificial starlight illuminated the room. As meteorites streaked across the overhead globe, several people “ahh”-ed in admiration. Then a single spotlight speared abruptly down through the darkness and lit Jack standing poised at the top of the staircase opposite Charlie and Miguel.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome.”

  He paused.

  “Thousands of years ago, men looked up at the night sky, and imagined the gods tossing glowing coals at the world. The coals burned through the fabric of the heavens to create the pinpricks of light we know as stars. On the rarely recorded occasions when these coals fell all the way to earth, they were treasured as gifts from the gods by ancient people in Mexico and revered as holy by Muslims in the Kaaba.”

  Jack took one step downward, the movement making the polished meteorites of his studs flash.

  “We, of course, are interested in fallen stars only for their scientific value,” he said with a grin at his eager buyers.

  A ripple of laughter went through his audience.

  “The meteorite you will see here tonight,” he said, sweeping his hand toward the darkened center and creating absolute silence, “is not a fallen star. It is a fallen planet, hurled here by the God of War, the mighty Mars. Perhaps it holds signs of living creatures other than ourselves, granting us hope of company in our lonely universe.

  “But whether life is sealed inside this black stone or not, it comes to us from the birth of our solar system, a gift to our ever-questing minds from the gods of space.”

  The spotlight blinked off Jack as a shaft of brilliant white light blazed down onto Sahara-Mars in its sealed display case.

  Even Charlie gasped. Miguel chuckled with satisfaction beside her. “He’s quite a showman, our Jack,” he said.

  A babble of voices broke out as people recovered from the drama, and began to examine the gleaming stone now revolving on the stand in front of them. Several surged forward to get a closer look. Soon the crowd was packed around the pedestal. Jack stood solitary on the steps, watching the spectacle with an impassive expression. Charlie excused herself to Miguel and walked over to her husband. “You were magnificent! Your speech alone should push up the price by several hundred thousand dollars,” she said.

  “Thanks,” he said, continuing to watch the crowd. “As long as they feel they got their money’s worth.”

  There was a flat note in his voice she wasn’t accustomed to hearing. Charlie really looked at him, and saw exhaustion in his face and posture. She reached up to lay her palm against his cheek in a gesture of concern. “You look tired.”

  His eyebrows arched in surprise, but he let her hand rest against him. Then the one-hundred-watt smile was back. “Just a little post-show letdown,” he said, taking her hand in his to kiss her palm before he released it. “Don’t worry about me, sugar.”

  One of the television reporters approached brandishing a microphone, and Charlie tried to beat a speedy retreat. Jack captured her wrist in a grip of steel and pulled her close to his side. “Smile for the cameras,
Charlie. I want to show off my beautiful wife.” Charlie threw an imploring glance at Miguel, but he grinned and held his position.

  The interview was mercifully brief and focused almost entirely on Jack and his find. When it was over, Charlie escaped before the next reporter could collar him.

  Most of the guests had looked their fill at Sahara-Mars and were drifting back out to the brilliantly lit Hall of the Universe to replenish their drinks. Charlie waited for a lull in the traffic up the steps, then went down to take a closer look at the famous rock. Miguel’s sealed case had been set atop a rotating pedestal so a spectator could stand in one place and view the entire meteorite. Up close, the flow structures created by its fiery journey through the atmosphere were more pronounced; the straight lines radiating back from the stone’s nose looked as though they had been drawn by an artist’s steady hand. Maybe Jack had influenced her, but Sahara-Mars did emit an alien aura. It looked like nothing on the earth.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?”

  Charlie turned to find Curt Vandermade beside her, his gaze locked on the glittering object revolving in front of them.

  “Very,” she agreed. “It certainly gives one the sense of being from somewhere far away.”

  “I have one Martian achondrite in my collection,” he said, “but it doesn’t compare to this. And of course, ALH 84001 was found by scientists in Antarctica so it’s out of my reach for now.” The man’s dark eyes narrowed as he continued, “If you give this to the scientists, they will destroy its beauty, cut it up into slices and stick labels all over it. It belongs where it will be revered for the mystery that it is.”

  Surprised by the poetry of his passion, Charlie nodded.

  “I don’t really give a damn about Mauritania’s claims,” he said, tearing his eyes away from the display. “You tell your husband he’s got a buyer.”

  “I will,” Charlie said.

  Without another word, Vandermade turned on his heel and climbed the steps to join his entourage. Charlie lingered, and when she heard footsteps on the stairs behind her she started to work up her best social smile.