by Jayne Castle
“What’s the name of the place?” Emmett asked swiftly.
“It’s called the Transverse Wave. It was founded years ago by the Anderson Ames Trust. It’s a place to start looking, Emmett, but I want your word that you will be discreet.”
“Why the hell do you care if I’m discreet?”
Mercer sighed. “Two years ago Anderson Ames died. When the lawyers finally unraveled the trust, which took several months, it was discovered to be nearly bankrupt. The Transverse Wave Youth Shelter was in danger of closing last year, but at the last minute new funding was found for it. Just in time to enable it to remain open.”
“Oh, shit.” He had the whole picture now, Emmett realized. “You’re going to tell me that the Guild Foundation stepped in and is now supporting the Transverse Wave, aren’t you? The reason you want me to be discreet is because the shelter is one of Tamara’s new pet charity projects.”
Mercer narrowed his eyes. He suddenly looked like the ruthless specter-cat that he was. “Tamara knows nothing of my suspicions. I want this mess cleaned up without any publicity that might embarrass her or the Guild Foundation. Is that understood?”
15
LYDIA CLUTCHED HER purse very tightly on her knees and smiled blandly through the window at the guard as Emmett drove out through the front gates of the Wyatt mansion.
Silence welled up inside the car. It thickened rapidly.
“If I had to rate the evening on a scale of faculty social events at the university, I would have to say it scored a two,” she said finally.
“That high?” Emmett asked.
“Somewhat less tolerable than the monthly sherry hour but not quite as bad as the weekly coffee hour in the Department of Para-archaeology.”
“Personally, I’m giving it a one,” Emmett said.
She glanced at him. “You mean it was worse than your engagement party where your fiancée decided she was in love with Mercer Wyatt instead of you?”
“So you heard about that, huh?” Emmett downshifted for a curve. “Sounds like you and Tamara got friendly in the salon.”
“Actually, the subject of your engagement came up right at the beginning, and conversation sort of fizzled after that. I spent a lot of time admiring the Wyatt collection of Harmonic antiquities. Fortunately, I can talk about relics for hours on end. By the time you came out of the library with Mercer, Tamara was half asleep from boredom.”
“Tamara has a short attention span if the subject is not one of great personal interest to her. Take our engagement, for example.”
“Something tells me she can be very focused if the subject is one of great personal interest to her.” Lydia paused. “She wears amber. Is it for real or just for looks?”
“It’s for real. She’s a strong dissonance-energy para-rez.”
“I see.” It figured, Lydia thought. Statistically speaking, most ghost-hunters were male, but she had worked with more than one female hunter in the catacombs. “Well, if she was engaged to you, I’d say she must have been extremely interested. Probably liked the thought of becoming the wife of the Resonance Guild boss.”
A cold smile came and went at the corners of Emmett’s mouth. “You did pick up a lot of trivia over tea.”
She whipped around in the seat, anger sweeping away her control. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Couple of reasons.” He sounded far too casual. “First, given your general opinion of ghost-hunters, I didn’t see any reason to bring up Guild politics. Second, I didn’t think it had any direct bearing on the situation.”
She stared at him. “I don’t believe this. You’re an ex-Guild boss and you don’t think it has any bearing on our business arrangements?”
“Does whatever happened to you during those forty-eight hours you spent underground six months ago have any bearing on them?”
“That’s entirely different.”
“Each of us has a past. Neither of us can change it. But we’ve both moved on. I’m no longer in the Guild.”
“The heck you aren’t. Once a guildman, always a guildman.”
“Some people say that once a tangler’s been badly fried in a trap, she’s never the same again.”
“Stop trying to pretend there’s a parallel here,” she shot back.
“What do you want to do, Lydia? Do you want out of the contract?”
“No, damn it, you’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”
“Then we have to find a way to work together.”
“How can we do that when you keep springing these surprises on me?” she demanded furiously.
“Just because we have a contract doesn’t mean we have to tell each other every damn personal thing that ever happened to us, does it?”
“The fact that you’re a Guild boss is not exactly a private, personal matter.”
“I’m an ex-Guild boss.”
“How come I never heard of you?”
“Can you name the heads of the Frequency or Crystal City Guilds?”
“Well…no.” She frowned. “I admit, I’ve never paid much attention to Guild politics outside of Cadence. I had heard something to the effect that the Resonance Guild had instituted some changes, but—”
“But you were skeptical, so you didn’t take any notice. Is that it?”
“It wasn’t that so much as that I didn’t think those changes would have any influence on the Cadence Guild. At least not while Mercer Wyatt is in charge.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you probably wouldn’t have remembered my name, even if you had followed the news.” Emmett guided the Slider through an intersection. “I kept a low profile while I held the position.”
“I see.”
There was another brittle silence. Lydia fumed.
She had a contract with a Guild boss.
Make that ex-Guild boss.
A freelance consultant had to be flexible, she thought. She was no longer safely ensconced in academia, with its rigid hierarchy and social rules, both written and unwritten. If she was going to establish herself as a private consultant, she would have to take a few risks.
“Why did you decide to step down?” she asked gruffly.
“I ran the Resonance Guild for six years. It took me that long to get it restructured organizationally. When I was finished, I wanted out of the job. So I turned down the board’s offer to renew my contract, and I made sure they appointed Daniel instead.”
“Who’s Daniel?”
“My younger brother.”
“So you handpicked your successor?”
“Daniel and I think alike when it comes to Guild politics. He’ll keep the organization moving forward in the new direction. In a few more years no one will even remember the old days. The Resonance Guild will be just one more major corporation in the city.”
Lydia hesitated, but morbid curiosity got the better of her. “When did you tell Tamara that you were planning to step down?”
“A few days before our engagement party. Since she did not immediately give me back my ring, I assumed she understood and supported my decision.”
“Probably thought she could talk you into changing your mind.”
“We had a few conversations on the subject,” Emmett admitted. “I didn’t change my mind.”
He eased the Slider into the parking lot of Lydia’s apartment complex. “In the six years I spent reorganizing the Resonance Guild, Tamara was my one major miscalculation.”
“No kidding.”
He brought the car to a halt and shut off the engine. For a moment he just sat there behind the wheel, saying nothing. Lydia got the feeling that he was thinking. Hard.
“You figure I should have known right from the start that it was the idea of being married to the head of the Guild, not me personally, that she loved?” he asked neutrally.
“Hey, don’t feel bad.” Lydia gripped the handle and opened the door. “I wasn’t any smarter about Ryan. He was only interested in me as long as I was moving up in the para-archaeology dep
artment and could write papers that got our names in print.”
“You wrote the papers?” Emmett inquired.
“Ryan’s a good P-A, but he’s not as good as I am,” she said evenly. “After my Lost Weekend, it was obvious that I was not going to be real useful to him as a coauthor, at least not for a long time. But it all worked out very nicely. He got promoted, based on our last paper together. Now, as head of the department, he gets his name on every paper that is published by the people under him. They do all the research, he gets the credit. Pretty neat, huh?”
She got out of the car, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around her purse. Emmett climbed out from the driver’s seat, closed and locked the door, and came around the vehicle to join her. Together they walked toward the stairwell.
“I could have clued you in on Ryan Kelso if I’d been around when you were dating him,” Emmett offered.
“I could have told you that Tamara is a shrewd, ambitious woman who won’t let anyone or anything get in her way. She’s into power. It attracts her.”
Emmett de-rezzed the security door. “You can tell that after spending one evening in her company?”
She cleared her throat and strove for an academic tone. “In para-psychological terms, she no doubt connects sex with power and vice versa.”
“In other words, when I resigned as head of the Guild, I no longer looked quite as sexy. Is that it?”
Lydia hugged her purse as they started up the stairwell. “Power is always interesting, but it comes in two different forms, the personal, internal kind and the kind that depends on the trappings.”
“The trappings?”
“You know—office, position, social standing. That sort of thing. Some people are only attracted to that type of power. I’d say Tamara is in that crowd.”
“You may be right.” Emmett climbed the stairs beside her. “I know she sure as hell lost interest in me after she found out that I intended to become a business consultant.”
“Live and learn,” Lydia said.
“So do we still have a contract?”
“Yes,” Lydia said, “we still have a contract.”
They reached the fifth floor together in silence and turned to walk along the corridor to her front door.
Lydia looked down at the purse she had clutched to her bosom. “I’ve got to find a safe place for this until I decide what to do with it.”
“Why don’t you put it in a real bank safe-deposit vault tomorrow morning?”
“Good idea. But I can’t leave it there indefinitely. This is an incredible find, Emmett. It needs to be properly studied.”
He gave her a wicked, knowing grin. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. You can turn that dreamstone jar over to the university and let Ryan Kelso and his staff write it up for the Journal of Para-archaeology.”
“Over my dead body,” she muttered. Then she thought about Chester and winced. “Guess that wasn’t really a good metaphor under the circumstances.”
His grin vanished. “Guess not.”
“I can’t think clearly about the problem of what to do with the jar tonight. I do believe I’ve had a little too much high-rez input this evening. My nerves aren’t accustomed to so much excitement.”
“Excitement?”
“Yeah, you know, excitement. This artifact, dinner with the head of the Cadence Guild, the discovery that my first consulting client is the ex-CEO of the Resonance Guild. It takes its toll, you know.”
“I see,” he said. “Excitement.”
“I live a quiet life, for the most part, these days. Oh, now and again I come across dead bodies. And there are the occasional moments of hilarity when I get the odd ghost burning holes in my bedroom wall. But that’s about it.”
“Sounds quiet, all right.” He inserted the key into the lock.
She gave him a sharp glance. “By the way, I almost forgot to ask—did you learn anything useful about your nephew from Wyatt?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s all you can say? Maybe?”
“He gave me a possible lead,” Emmett said casually as he opened the door. “I’ll check it out tomorrow.”
Lydia stepped into the foyer. “And just what did Boss Wyatt want in exchange for this so-called lead?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have an extremely cynical streak in your nature?”
“What I’ve got is a good working understanding of how Guild politics work.”
He looked at her, saying nothing.
“At least I know how they work here in Cadence,” she amended. “Mercer Wyatt doesn’t do anything for anyone out of the goodness of his heart.”
Emmett shrugged. He reached down to pick up Fuzz, who was drifting around at his feet. “We made a deal.”
Lydia froze. “What kind of deal?”
“It doesn’t concern you,” he said quietly. “It’s Guild business.”
“Damn it, don’t you dare pull that ‘Guild business’ routine with me. I’m your consultant in this thing, remember? I have a right to know what’s going on.”
“My arrangement with Wyatt falls outside the terms of our contract.”
“I’m not buying that. Not for one minute.”
“That’s your problem.” He went into the kitchen and took the lid off the pretzel jar. “Because that’s all I’m selling.”
She opened her mouth to continue the argument, but the blinking light on the telephone answering machine caught her attention.
She crossed the room and pushed the button.
“This is Bartholomew Greeley of Greeley’s Antiques calling about the item we discussed when you visited my shop. I have received word regarding its present where abouts. I am told that the collector who bought it will be willing to sell for the right price. I will be happy to act as a go-between and to accept the finder’s fee you mentioned. Please meet me at my shop tomorrow morning. I will open early to conduct the negotiations. Shall we say ten-ish?
Triumph flashed through Lydia. “Sounds like I’ve found your cabinet for you, Emmett.”
Emmett glanced at the answering machine. Then he gave her a level look. “If that’s true, then your job is done, isn’t it? That will simplify things. Tomorrow we’ll collect the cabinet and I’ll give you your check. Our contract will be legally terminated and you’ll be out of this.”
Her triumph evaporated in a heartbeat. He was right. Once the cabinet of curiosities was back in his hands, their contract would be fulfilled. There was nothing she could do about it.
Why the hell did she want to do anything about it, anyway? He was an ex-Guild boss, for crying out loud. He did social dinners with Mercer Wyatt. Worse yet, he did deals with Mercer Wyatt. His ex-fiancée was married to the boss of the Cadence Guild. Things couldn’t get much messier.
Yes, sir, she wanted this contract to end just as quickly as possible. With the fees Emmett would pay her she could move into a new apartment. With his name on her list of satisfied clients, she would be off to a stunning start in her new career as a consultant. Life was looking up.
So why wasn’t she thrilled?
She flashed him a brilliant smile. “Looks like I’ll be getting my sofa back tomorrow night.”
16
THE SOUND OF the bedroom door being stealthily opened brought him out of his brooding thoughts. His first reaction was a small rush of relief. He had been sinking deeper and deeper into the morass of possibilities, angles, problems, and risks since he had stretched out on the sofa and turned off the light.
His contemplation of how to juggle the search for Quinn with his bargain with Wyatt had been continually interrupted by the memory of Lydia’s flashing smile when she agreed that their contract would be terminated tomorrow. Looks like I’ll be getting my sofa back…
She didn’t have to be quite so thrilled at the prospect of getting him off her sofa. Hell, she was welcome to it. The damn thing sagged in all the wrong places. It was lumpy and it was too short.
He caught the faint thump of a bare t
oe striking a wooden table leg in the hall. The small sound was followed by a stifled groan and a muffled curse. He moved one arm from behind his head and glanced at the fluorez-lit face of his watch. Two in the morning. Apparently Lydia had not had any more luck getting to sleep than he had.
All the plans and contingency schemes he had been crafting receded in the face of the more immediate question that had just arisen. Why was Lydia coming down the hall?
He was keenly aware that the question was not the only thing that had arisen. The knowledge that she was up and moving toward him had been enough to give him an erection.
He wondered if she was still angry. Then he wondered if it had occurred to her, as it had to him, that they had no logical reason to see each other again after they retrieved the cabinet tomorrow. Did she even give a damn? She had looked extremely pleased by Bartholomew Greeley’s call. Just delighted at the news that their contract was about to end.
He lay unmoving, conscious that his blood was heating up with what had to be really stupid anticipation. What the hell did he think was going to happen now? Was he really dumb enough to believe that she might be coming out here to join him on the sofa?
More likely she was headed for the kitchen. Only logical destination under the circumstances. She couldn’t sleep, so she was going to get herself a nice glass of warm milk. Or something.
He saw the pale outline of her white robe as she tiptoed around the corner, the shadowy blob that was Fuzz perched on her shoulder.
He held his breath and willed Lydia to come toward the sofa.
She headed for the kitchen.
He exhaled deeply and watched her disappear through the doorway. A few seconds later he heard the refrigerator door open. Light glowed briefly from the opening to the kitchen and then disappeared again. There was a soft clink. Lydia had removed a glass from the cupboard. Then he heard the lid of the pretzel jar.
Well, hell. Did she really expect him to sleep through all that racket?
He eased the covers aside and got to his feet. Halfway to the kitchen he remembered that he was wearing only his briefs. He glanced down and noticed that they did not provide much in the way of camouflage for his aroused body. Suppressing a groan, he reached into his open carryall and snagged his jeans. He yanked them on quickly.
