Topaz Dreams

by Marilyn Campbell

  "No, I have not."

  "Good! You're in for a real treat then!"

  Chapter Six

  Rich men rule the law.—Oliver Goldsmith

  Gordon Underwood took another glance at the fuzzy videotapes of the man and woman who had appeared in his two California offices. Miss Preston was correct in that the woman was almost unrecognizable in her disguises, obviously a professional. Only the audacity of her two performances gave any clue that something was in the wind. The man had made no attempt to change his appearance, and his excuses for being in the two offices were extremely flimsy. He was either an amateur or over confident of his abilities. It did not really matter. Between the two of them, Underwood knew now that someone was looking for him.

  It had taken the last three hours, considerable use of his computers and a handful of phone calls, but he had learned who they were and what one of them was up to. Private Investigator Stephanie Barbanell was indeed working on the Nesterman case. Apparently, Nesterman had managed to leave a clue behind that pointed to Underwood in some way. But it could not be a very revealing one, since it took six weeks to uncover it, then turn it over to a private agency instead of the police.

  The man was A. Falcon, an Interpol agent, on special assignment in the United States. Unfortunately, none of Underwood's contacts could come up with more than that, although they promised to keep trying. Interpol! What could they want? He was involved in too many deals in too many countries to narrow the possibilities down without more information.

  Usually, Miss Preston's instincts were exceptional when it came to protecting him. The fact that the two agents did not appear to know each other did not rule out the possibility that they were working on the same case. Underwood decided it was time to have another chat with Nesterman, and find out what projects the scientist had been working on before he was brought to Alaska. If he was involved in a government project, that might help piece the puzzle together.

  In the meantime Underwood needed more time with Nesterman. Each day brought him closer to convincing the computer whiz that he had been justified in his actions. Delphina's appearance had almost won Nesterman over. Underwood was certain that if another of her people could be lured in, one with superior knowledge or powers, Nesterman would realize the importance of what they were doing and become an ally rather than an enemy. He firmly believed another alien would be arriving any day now.

  With two different detectives trying to locate him, though, Underwood knew he could only stay hidden for so long, and he did not want to risk moving Delphina from Alaska. He assumed it would be easier for her people to find her if he kept her where she had appeared. Underwood needed to keep his pursuers running around in circles for a while longer. This could be accomplished by throwing out a few deceptive crumbs for them to follow, combined with a little sleight of hand to keep them interested.

  He made a call to Miss Preston to give her his instructions for the misdirection of Barbanell and Falcon. For the magic he summoned King.

  Chapter Seven

  A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing. —William Shakespeare

  "I can't believe you've never been to Monte Carlo!" Steve teased. "Here I thought all of you international agents hung around glittery casinos wearing tuxedos and looking debonair like James Bond."

  "James Bond?" Falcon looked at her curiously.

  "You know, Double-O-Seven! Geez, don't they give you time off to go to-the movies over there?"

  "Oh, yes, the movies."

  Steve had the distinct impression he still had no idea what she was talking about. But this guy never seemed to understand what she was saying. His speech, what little there was of it, was extremely stilted. Perhaps she should try to use a little less slang, for his sake. Then again, what did it matter if they did not speak exactly the same language? They would only be together until they got the job done.

  "Well, here we are," Steve said with a wave of her hand toward the brightly lit casino. "Las Vegas is known for its extravagance and neon lights. Some of the places get downright tacky, but this place is one of the nicer ones. The tables will be honest, too. What would you like to try?"

  "I will leave it to you, Steve. I am not familiar with these games."

  "I'm not much of a gambler myself, but I know enough to show you around. The one-arm bandits are my favorite. Worst odds in the house, but even a complete amateur can try them. Watch some of the people playing for a minute while I break a twenty for some silver dollars."

  Steve left Falcon staring intently at the whirring machines. In the next row someone had gotten lucky, as evidenced by the loud ringing bell, flashing lights, and clinking of coins into the metal tray.

  When Steve returned, it took her only a few seconds to spot Falcon. He was listening to a buxom cocktail waitress in a skimpy costume, who seemed to be offering him much more than a drink. Steve had changed into the purple sweater dress, as it was the only appropriate thing she had with her. Even so, the waitress's blatant charms left her feeling somewhat insignificant. Falcon, on the other hand, was so attractive and dangerously male in his all black attire, every woman in the area paused to sneak a peak at him or openly ogle. One elderly woman next to Steve asked her if she knew his name, certain he was a famous movie star. Just then Falcon turned and walked to where she was standing, as if he had known she was there all along. Steve could not resist a gloating smile toward the waitress and a wink at the older woman. They did not need to know there was nothing between them.

  Falcon looked slightly confused when he reached her. "I understand how the machine works now. You were right about the odds. Why would you put your money into such a unit?"

  Steve laughed. "For the fun of it, I guess. And the chance that it's my turn to hit the jackpot."

  "Would that make you happy, Steve? To hit the jackpot?"

  "Are you kidding? I'd be happy to win enough to buy groceries next week. You can't imagine how much it costs to keep my family fed." Suddenly she realized how presumptive that sounded. "I'm sorry, Falcon. For some reason I assumed you don't have a family of your own to feed."

  "I do not."

  Steve knew she should let it lie, but she could not resist the urge to be certain. "You're not married, or anything?" Falcon was looking at her strangely again, and she felt her cheeks flush.

  "I am not married... or anything, Steve."

  How did he make a simple name like Steve sound so sexy? She had to stop reacting to everything this man did. Steve turned away from him, put a dollar in the machine in front of her, and yanked on the arm harder than necessary. The colored fruits spun madly inside the glass window, finally stopping on an orange, a banana, and a black bar. Steve shrugged and began to insert another coin into the same machine when Falcon stopped her.

  "Not that one. You will lose again. Come." He touched her elbow and led her slowly down one row and up another. "This one."

  Steve smiled. "Another feeling, Falcon? Oh, well, your choice is probably better than mine—beginner's luck and all that. Would you like to pull the arm since you picked the machine?"

  He shook his head no, but placed one hand on the side of the machine and concentrated on the blurred pictures.

  One bar. Double bars. Triple bars. Bells clanged! Lights flashed!

  Steve let out a squeal and threw herself against Falcon, giving him a strangling hug.

  "I won! I won! I can't believe it! Thank you!" Steve realized she was choking him and quickly released her hold around his neck. It made her instantly aware of the secure hold he had on her in return, and the strength radiating from the length of his body pressed close to hers. Steve's heart was pounding from the excitement of the win, yet she recognized the moment her reaction switched from her luck to his nearness.

  Falcon smoothly slid his arms back to his sides and stepped back from her. "Is that a lot of money?" he asked, not looking at her.

  "I... I think so." Steve busied herself counting her loot as she dropped the silver dollars into a plastic
bag. By the time she had it all gathered up her breathing was under control, even if her thoughts were not. "I just won $257 thanks to you. Let me know if you get any more of your feelings!"

  Steve tried several more machines without any luck. Falcon seemed distracted, or perhaps the one-arm bandits simply were not challenging enough for him. "Falcon, would you like to try one of the tables? I can explain roulette and blackjack, but I'm afraid craps and baccarat are over my head."

  "What are they doing there?" He pointed to the section of the casino where the semicircular blackjack tables were located.

  Steve explained the rules of twenty-one and the betting involved while they watched a few of the players in action. After a few hands Falcon suggested they try the game.

  "Okay, but let's go over to that table where no one is playing. It's a five-dollar minimum, but if you're the only player the dealer won't mind if you're a little slow or stop to ask questions. Anyway, well be playing with the house's money."

  They sat down in front of the table,. and Steve placed a stack of silver dollars in front of Falcon. "You play this time. I've never been very lucky at blackjack."

  At first Falcon won a few hands and lost a few. After about five minutes his luck began to improve. One hour later Steve found herself sorting tall stacks of various colored chips, trying not to think of the enormous amount of money they represented. They were no longer alone at the table. Every seat was occupied, and spectators stood three-deep behind them. Suddenly Falcon stood up and handed the dealer a black chip. Damn! Steve realized. A five-hundred-dollar tip! He moved away from the table, leaving Steve to pick up his winnings. Her hands were shaking so badly the dealer had to help her gather the chips.

  Steve hurried to catch up with Falcon, who was making his way to the roulette tables. "What happened? Why did you walk away? How did you pick up on card counting so fast? That is what you were doing, wasn't it?"

  Falcon flashed Steve a mischievous grin that stunned her. It was the first real smile from him she had witnessed.

  "I became bored once I figured it out. It was not fair for me to continue. There were two men watching us who did not seem at all pleased with my luck."

  "Fair?" Steve's voice raised in disbelief. "There's no such thing as fair in gambling. Those two men in tuxedos wouldn't know what fair means. Okay, forget it. Do you have any idea how much money you just won? It's a small fortune!"

  "It is not my money. It is yours."

  "That's ridiculous! It may have been my stake, but you played the game. It's yours!"

  "I have no need for it, Steve. If you do not want it, we can return it to the casino," Falcon said seriously.

  "Are you some kind of crazy man? What do you mean you don't need it? Don't tell me, on top of everything else you're loaded, too! Geez! Never mind. We'll share. I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Since we have money to burn now, let's play roulette. Okay?"

  "Whatever you wish."

  Again she explained the rudimentaries of the game, and they found seats at a quiet table. Over and over again, the little ball dropped into a slot on the wheel which bore one of the numbers Steve had bet on. In no time the stacks of chips in front of them multiplied several times again, and another crowd collected around their table.

  Abruptly, their luck changed. Nothing Steve bet on came up. Caught up in a gambling frenzy, she put more and more chips out on the felt board, only to watch the croupier drag them away with his stick. Inadvertently, Falcon brought her back to her senses when she caught sight of him rotating his fingertips over his closed eyelids. The smoke must have been bothering him terribly and Steve had not given him the slightest notice for some time.

  She stopped playing and gathered up their remaining chips, marveling at how easily she halved the fortune amassed during the game. Winning and losing colored chips kept you from thinking in terms of dollars.

  "I'm so sorry, Falcon. I guess I got carried away there. I can see your eyes are bothering you again. It's still your money if you want to keep playing, but I don't like losing very much, and our luck definitely seems to have gone sour."

  "I do not care to continue playing."

  "What do you say to dinner and a show? We can certainly afford to treat ourselves."

  Falcon nodded. It took a little time at the cashier's cage to exchange the chips for $2,000 in cash and a cashier's check for $24,750, which Falcon insisted be made out to Stephanie Barbanell. While she completed the information for the IRS, Falcon excused himself to put more drops in his irritated eyes.

  Steve asked the cashier about the dinner show in the hotel. By the time Falcon returned, a casino pit boss appeared to escort them to the showroom. The man seated them in the center booth of the first raised tier from the stage, unquestionably the best table in the room. Steve handed him a generous tip. He wished them a pleasant evening, compliments of the house, and hoped to see them back in the casino later.

  Steve felt like she was floating on a golden cloud as she ordered the most expensive dinner on the menu to be accompanied by an equally expensive bottle of wine. Normally she never drank while on duty, but she was technically not working and this was all too good not to celebrate. Falcon seemed to enjoy his simple fare of broiled snapper and refused the wine. Before the show started, Steve ordered a second bottle for herself.

  She had seen a variation of this show some years ago, when it was at the Frontier Hotel. It remained her favorite of all the glitzy extravaganzas. Aside from the usual music, dancing, and elaborate costumes that failed to cover the dancers' physical attributes, this show had Siegfried and Roy, two of the most beautiful blond men to have ever set foot in America. Automatically, Steve amended that evaluation when she glanced at Falcon.

  The show combined magic with a company of well-trained jungle cats. There was no barrier between the stage and the audience. Only Siegfried and Roy's talents as expert animal trainers kept the ferocious lions and tigers from joining the diners. At the climax of the show there were twelve large cats poised around the stage, several of which were elegantly sprawled on overhead balconies with their tails swishing above the stage. It was absolutely breathtaking. Suddenly the cats began to roar, one after the other, until they drowned out the orchestra. They became increasingly agitated, and Siegfried and Roy moved swiftly from one to another, cracking their whips and ordering their silence in German. The animals quieted after a moment, but then the lions on the higher perches leapt down to join the other cats as they all stalked toward the center runway. It was so perfectly choreographed it appeared to be part of the act, until Steve caught a look of concern pass between the two trainers. Their animals appeared to be enacting a quiet rebellion, and the men were unable to stop whatever the big cats had in mind.

  Falcon reached over and clasped Steve's hand. "Do not be afraid," he murmured. He stared straight ahead at the huge lion that led the pack. "They only want to say hello."

  Steve looked at him as if he had lost his mind. He was completely at ease, except for the powerful grip he had on her hand. Steve's gaze darted around the room. There were a few curious expressions on the faces of some of the patrons, but no one in the audience seemed aware that anything unusual was happening.

  The lead lion jumped off the stage, followed by the other eleven. In close order drill the mighty king paraded his court through the crowded aisle toward Steve and Falcon's table.

  Falcon gave Steve's hand a final squeeze and slid out of the booth. "Stay seated. There is nothing to fear." As he moved in front of the table, the twelve sleek cats surrounded him, then bowed their heads.

  Falcon stroked each one on the nose or between the eyes until he had all of them purring contentedly.

  Steve imagined her eyes were bulging out so far she would never get her eyelids closed over them again. The cats' purring was almost identical to the sound she had heard from Falcon when they were in the desert.

  This had to be some sort of hallucination. Steve heard Falcon say a few words, but they were fo
reign to her. He was speaking to the cats! In unison the animals rose and returned to their assigned places around the stage. Falcon gave a small salute to the two men who were still standing at the end of the runway, doing their best to look calm. Quickly improvising, Siegfried held out an arm toward Falcon and encouraged the audience's applause. Roy and Siegfried responded like the true professionals they were. Everyone thought Falcon was part of the act.

  Except Steve. Her hands trembled and she stared at Falcon with a mixture of awe and fear, until he did something she had seen him do before. For the merest second he brushed her temple with his fingertips, as if he were pushing a strand of hair off her face. Immediately, she relaxed. Each time he touched her, he made her aware of how vulnerable he made her feel. There did not seem to be any way to prevent her response to him, nor did she honestly care if he realized it.

  By the time they returned to their room Steve was able to find the whole evening terribly funny. A bottle and a half of wine helped to promote a case of the giggles.

  "God, Falcon, that had to be the wildest thing I have ever seen! I think those cats thought you were one of them. Must be that mane of hair," she slurred unintentionally, reaching up to touch his silky strands as she spoke. But he smoothly moved away before she made contact.

  "Perhaps we should get some sleep now, Steve. You may have the shower first." He opened up a brochure he found on the nightstand and leafed through it.

  Steve was too wound up to think of sleep. She had won a half-year's salary in one night, seen a miracle, and had had a generally terrific time with a man who kept her pulse at its peak workout level just by being in the same room.

  "I don't want to go to sleep yet." Steve thought her voice sounded sulky and tried to improve it. "You know what I do want to do?" She waited for Falcon to look up at her. "I want you to show me how you got out of that hold I had you in today. I'd like to be able to do that if somebody ever got me in that position—not that anyone ever has, mind you, but you never know."