Topaz Dreams

by Marilyn Campbell

  Steve had also been told they would only pat her down or ask for ID if she had come uninvited. She decided to trust that information and remain armed. From what she had seen and felt, if Falcon was carrying, she didn't know where, and she wanted one of them to be holding something more substantial than self-confidence if they were walking into a trap.

  Steve got out of the van, and buckled on the utility belt that completed her cover. Just as they opened the door to the shack, a section of flooring slid open and a stainless steel monolith rose up through the gap. The front of the tall rectangular box swung toward them, and a uniformed security guard greeted them from within.

  The guard looked from her to Falcon and said, "We were told only one repairman, a woman I mean, would be coming. He'll have to stay here until you're finished."

  "Him?" Steve waved at Falcon. "He doesn't count. He's a trainee, assigned to follow me everywhere I go. You know, like he's attached at my hip. But, hey, if it's a problem go ahead and clear it first. You might get through to somebody for an okay before the end of the day. You know how the phone company is. Meanwhile, I've got one more job back in Vegas that has to be done before five this afternoon and no way am I gonna take the blame if it's not done. You know, it's one of those big-shot casino guys, and they have ways of getting back at you when they don't get what they want!"

  "Okay, okay, forget it. I guess it's all right. Mr. Underwood would probably be angrier if his phone's not fixed than if I let in some trainee. Come on in then." When they entered the steel closet, he closed the door and pushed a button on the wall panel. Instantly, they made their descent below ground.

  Steve had expected the unusual elevator, but assumed a telephone repairman might not react nonchalantly. "Wow! That's really cool! I heard this place was like something out of a science-fiction movie. I'm kinda sorry I promised not to say anything to anybody about what I see here. But they told me I'd lose my job if I opened my mouth, so I guess I'll just have to keep it to myself, or I should say ourselves, right, Bob?" Steve nudged Falcon in his side a little harder than necessary, and he agreed with a grunt.

  The guard nodded approvingly and held the elevator door open for them as they exited into a lobby. "You'll have to sign in first."

  Steve quickly signed for the both of them. The guard led them through a set of double doors and directed them to take a seat in a waiting golf cart.

  When they were all settled, he asked, "Will you need to go to the central communications room or to the telephone they're having trouble with?"

  Steve continued to look around as if dumbstruck. "Oh, uh, take me to Mr. Underwood's office first. Maybe it's some little thing I can fix on his phone. I'll let you know if I need to get to the main board." Steve was pleased that Falcon was going along so obligingly. Perhaps it was a good thing they came to an agreement before they got in here. Now, if they could only catch up to Underwood!

  They rode for several minutes through a series of corridors. Eventually, they stopped at an ornately carved wooden door. As they entered, the guard held his arm out toward a secretary with carrot-orange hair. "Miss Preston, these are the people from the phone company. Ill wait outside for them."

  Miss Preston Three got up from her chair and walked to a door on the far side of her large office. Steve was a little surprised that it was not a duplicate of Underwood's other two offices, but then this whole setup was different from the norm—except for the redheaded secretary.

  "I hope we won't be putting your boss to too much trouble," Steve said quickly.

  "No problem," Miss Preston answered. "He was here yesterday, but there was an emergency in San Francisco and he had to go back last night. It was just as well. He would not have been very patient about the phone being out of order this morning."

  Damn! They had missed him again. Steve followed the secretary into Underwood's office knowing it was futile, but she had to finish the charade before they could get out of there. The woman remained in the office with Steve while she turned the phone over and removed a screwdriver from her belt. As Steve pretended to make an adjustment, she kept an eye on Falcon, who was wandering around the richly appointed office, touching various objects. He was good. His meandering made the secretary watch him instead of Steve. Even in his impromptu disguise, he was a man at whom a woman stopped whatever she was doing to get a better look. Hiding his hair and eyes had not made any difference. Steve had not disguised his hard, lean body, nor had she thought of suggesting that he alter his walk that made her think of a prowling jungle cat.

  She was about to put the phone back together and ignore him and his walk when he closed in on the redhead.

  "You have a smudge," he said in his low vibrating voice. It clearly had the same affect on the secretary as it had on Steve. "Let me get it for you." He lifted his hand, the first two fingers extended, and gently touched the side of her face by her temple. Steve stopped what she was doing.

  The position of his fingers was the same as she had seen him do to her. The moment he contacted the woman's temple, her eyelids drooped, and for an instant her features completely relaxed, as if she had gone to sleep. Falcon removed his hand and the woman's lashes fluttered open again.

  "Thank you," the secretary said as he stepped away from her.

  Steve thought she had seen the woman go limp for a moment when Falcon touched her, but it had happened so fast, and the woman made no comment about what he had done, that Steve convinced herself she must have been seeing things. After all, hadn't she practically melted when he kissed her? His nearness was pretty devastating. Maybe this woman was so susceptible to his charm it only took a touch.

  What a monumental ego he must have if every woman he touches conveniently falls apart for him. Steve pondered what it would be like to have men react to her in such a way. Now that was a really ridiculous idea. She had not even been able to hold on to the man who had married her!

  "Okay, all set." Steve jammed the screwdriver back in her belt and headed for the outer office. "The main office will have the telephone back in working order by five today. It was just a short. Let's move it, Bob!"

  She got into the golf cart without waiting to see if Falcon followed, and the guard had them back on the surface a few minutes later.

  Once in the van, Falcon looked concerned, or at least that was what Steve supposed the slight change in his expression indicated.

  "You are angry again? You are disappointed that Underwood was not there. I, too, am somewhat disappointed."

  Steve could not answer right away. She was not sure her mood swing was entirely connected with missing Underwood, but that was all she intended to discuss with a man who was a virtual stranger. "Yeah. I'm disappointed. If I could have gotten here yesterday, I might have had him!"

  "No, you would not."

  "No? Why do you say that? You heard the secretary."

  "She prevaricated. We are being led along a false trail. That was only what she was told to tell anyone who asked. Underwood has not been in that office for several weeks."

  "Now hold on a minute. I'm not saying you're wrong. I have a feeling you hit it right on the head, but you sound like you know it for a fact."

  "It is the same for me as you, Steve. I have ... a feeling. Perhaps I have more faith in my intuition than you do."

  "Okay, I'll buy that. . . for now. For a second there I had the crazy idea you were going to tell me you were reading her mind when you wiped the imaginary smudge off her face."

  "Yes, that is a crazy idea. Do you have any others?"

  "Crazy ideas?"

  "Maybe. I was actually wondering if you had a feeling about where we might try next. I sincerely doubt if Underwood is in San Francisco since that appears to be where he wants us to go."

  Steve caught his use of the word "we" and let it go for the moment. Until she found out who he was for sure, she was not going to accept or reject him as a partner on this case. They were back at the spot where they had met earlier, and Steve stopped the van.


  "First, I've got to get this van back to Vegas and check in with my office. Going back to San Francisco is probably a waste of time as far as finding Underwood is concerned, but that's where I live and work, so I don't have much choice. My expense account doesn't stretch far enough for me to go traipsing around the world to every one of Underwood's offices in hopes that I accidentally bump into him. I'm going to have to wait until he surfaces somewhere or somebody comes up with another lead."

  "Steve, I have another feeling. The secretary in the San Francisco office is important to Underwood. I believe she is the one who would know where he is."

  "That's more than just a feeling. It's in his file. There were several notations that conjectured that she's his number-one Girl Friday, in spite of his lack of imagination when it comes to his secretaries' hair color and names."

  "Then it would be reasonable to return to her."

  "Why? Do you think you could melt the old biddy into a pool of desire and get her to confess everything she knows? Don't kid yourself, Falcon. Even you aren't that good. She's made of stone and one hundred percent loyal to her master."

  "You are right, Steve."

  "Yeah? About what?"

  "You do have very crazy ideas. Why did you call me Bob before?" Subject changed.

  "Because Bob is a very common name, and Falcon is not. I didn't want your identity known. Your name would be remembered, believe me. Now answer a question for me. How did you get out here, and how did you intend to return to the city? And just what was it you were doing wandering around like that when I first saw you?"

  "I believe that was three questions, and one comment that deserves a response. You are right about my name. I do understand now if you must call me by another name in the future. I was brought here by a taxi. He did not wait, as you can see, but it does not matter now. You will take me to wherever we are going."

  His explanation left her thinking he was either a good liar or a total rube! "How lucky for you that I came along then. Although I don't usually pick up hitchhikers, I guess you can come back to Vegas with me. Now, question number three?"

  "I was looking for a way in."

  "Didn't Interpol give you any background at all?" Steve caught her breath in a small gasp, and her voice revealed her worry. "Oh, God, don't tell me you're a rogue! I manage to get into enough trouble all by myself without getting mixed up with something like that." She saw his brows draw together, and assumed he did not understand the term. "A rogue—an agent who goes off on his own, without orders. Someone who rejects the rules of the game and makes his own." Steve did not consider herself a rogue; she simply failed to go by the book when the rules became too constricting. Lou had extracted her promise to behave on this case, and she did not want anyone else getting her into a jam when she was trying so hard not to.

  "No, Steve, I am not a rogue. I am here alone, but with Interpol's knowledge. Since I seem to have been seriously uninformed, however, I hope you will agree to assist me, as we discussed earlier."

  Steve felt her stomach tighten a little. She had already decided to have him checked out, and maybe they could help each other find Underwood. It was the man, Falcon, not the agent, who made her question the sensibility of such a plan. He made her feel and think things she had consciously chosen to shut out since her divorce. "You mean for the duration?"

  "It is reasonable."

  Several times on the way to Las Vegas, Steve contemplated starting a conversation and changed her mind. For one thing, Falcon did not show any interest in talking. For another, she was not at all sure she wanted to promote communication with a man who made her remember that she was a woman. Lastly, if he was not really an agent, she did not care about anything else he had to say because it would probably be a lie, too.

  They delivered the van to the phone company's service building in Las Vegas and, after telling Falcon to wait for her outside, Steve found a pay phone inside the building to call Dokes. It did not take long to bring him up to date.

  "I can't say I'm surprised," Dokes replied when Steve finished speaking. "I warned you Underwood seems to have a sixth sense about these things. When I made all my calls last night, I asked everyone to let me know if they hear anything about a time or place where he's expected to show up. Plus, I put out a few feelers in the civilian corner today. Considering all the businesses he owns, there must be something he attends to personally. Where can I call you if we come up with anything solid?"

  "Before I answer that, I need you to check on something for me. The guy I described to you last night turned up in the desert today. His ID says he's Interpol. Name, A. Falcon. I tend to believe it, but I'd like confirmation. He's after Underwood, too. Either I work with him or run the risk of his getting in my way, unless he's not on the level."

  She agreed to wait by the phone while Dokes contacted Interpol. It took about a half-hour for Dokes to call back, but Falcon never came inside to question the wait, a small favor for which Steve was grateful.

  Dokes confirmed Falcon's identity and description. "The person I talked to didn't know him personally or very much about his assignment. Apparently, it's highly confidential. In fact, it sounds like you know more about what he's doing than they do. I'd hate to see them get the drop on us on this one. Work with him, Steve. It's the only recommendation I can make under the circumstances. Since he suggested it to begin with, there should be no problem, but keep a close eye on him anyway. Look at it this way, if anything goes wrong, we can always blame Interpol!" Dokes laughed and Steve joined him, knowing there was more than a grain of truth to his joke.

  As long as Falcon agreed with what she had already decided to do, she concocted a way to keep her bird of prey under her wing. He might be legitimate, and her little voice might tell her she was safe with him, but that did not mean she could trust him not to double cross her. Steve did not want to risk his taking off ahead of her, leaving her holding nothing but excuses. If she returned home to San Francisco, he would be free to go his own way.

  "Listen, Lou, I have an idea or two on how to handle this Falcon character, and I can accomplish it easier if we stay here for tonight. Ill give you a call later to let you know what hotel we're in. Hopefully, you'll come up with a new lead by morning."

  "Fine. Be good, Steve," he said with an unprofessional send-off.

  Steve made one more call to her mother to let her know she would not be home, and spoke at length with her children. She had not spent a night away from them in over six months, but guilt pressed heavily on her anyway. They could always call Uncle Lou if they needed anything before she called again.

  After weighing several ideas of where they could spend the night, she picked a hotel that might even be some fun. Falcon complacently agreed with her plan when Steve explained that Lou expected to have something better for them to do than revisit the first Miss Preston, and it would be more efficient to stay put in the meantime.

  A few minutes later they were in a cab on the way to the famous Las Vegas Strip.

  "Falcon, are you wearing contacts?"

  "Contacts?" he returned cautiously.

  "Contact lenses. In your eyes, What is it, do you have another name for them in Wales?"

  "Oh, my lenses. Yes. I did not realize they were noticeable."

  "They're not, really, but I've seen how you keep rubbing your eyelids like one of my friends does when his lenses start irritating him, and your eyes are a little bloodshot, too. Don't you have some drops you can use?" Steve had no doubt that she had managed to fluster the unflappable agent. He must be more vain than she guessed if it embarrassed him to have someone know he wore contacts.

  "No, I... forgot to bring ... drops."

  The cab dropped them off in front of the Mirage Hotel. On the way into the lobby Steve suggested, "Look, why don't you go by the gift shop and buy some eyedrops. They will soothe your eyes until you can take the lenses out later. By the time you get back, I'll have us both checked in."

  A loud roar stopped Steve in her track
s, but Falcon continued on directly to the source. There in the lobby were two magnificent white tigers in a glass cage. The closer Falcon got to them, the louder they roared.

  Catching up to him, Steve commented, "They're beautiful, aren't they? But so noisy! It's almost like they're trying to tell you something."

  Falcon turned to her and almost smiled. "I will look for the eyedrops now."

  As he walked away, Steve congratulated herself. Except for his one show of defiance in the desert, Falcon was proving to be quite malleable. A second surprise awaited her at the registration counter. Behind the employees was a glass wall through which Steve could see a man-eating shark swimming back and forth. Only in Las Vegas! she thought wryly.

  When Falcon returned carrying a small paper bag, she held up a key and gave him an apologetic look. "They only had one room available. There's a couple of big conventions in town and not a decent room left. We were lucky to get this one. They assured me it has two beds, and I figured if I didn't mind, you shouldn't. Okay?" She was worried that her nervousness about the sleeping arrangements would make her lie about the available rooms sound false.

  Steve intended to keep him within sight, even if it meant sacrificing her privacy. Hah! Who are you kidding, Steve? By sternly reminding herself to keep her mind on the case, she managed to banish the images she conjured up at the thought of spending the night in the same room with Falcon.

  He looked directly into her eyes for several long seconds. Although she could not tell what he was thinking, she had the uneasy sensation that he knew she was lying, but once again he nodded his agreement without uttering a word.

  Steve wanted to dispel the uncomfortable feeling quickly. "As soon as we've dropped our bags in the room, I'll let Lou know where we are, then we can have some fun. I think it's my duty as an American to show a visiting official a good time. You've never been to Vegas have you?"