Topaz Dreams

by Marilyn Campbell

  Steve felt the ache well inside her. If she had to spend the rest of her life without him, she prayed for the chance to be with him one more time.

  Steve?

  Falcon! Her heart pounded against her ribs. Where are you?

  I'm confined in Underwood's house in Alaska. Are you near?

  Yes. I can see the house from where I'm standing. Are you all right?

  I am now. I was unconscious until I heard your thoughts. Thank you for your concern, Steve. I want very much to see you again as well. I understand what you were feeling just then. I experienced it myself when you were injured. I am very curious as to how you came to be here, but I am pleased that you are.

  Steve smiled at the pleasure his words gave her. Got any suggestions about how to get you out of there?

  You must be calming down. I can no longer read you. I assume you can still hear me, however. I am picking up only three human life forces close by—yours and King's I recognize. The third must be Nesterman. I do not know where Underwood and Delphina have gone, but they were here when I arrived. King may or may not be monitoring the security systems.

  As I cannot receive your advice, I must request that you accept my direction. King is somewhere in the front of the house. When I tell you, come straight to the front door as fast as you can. I can get out of this room on my own now that I am alert again. Distract King any way you can.

  He paused and amended his order. Correction, Steve, distract King without sustaining injury to yourself please. I cannot tolerate any more trauma this night. Once he sees you, I am certain I will have sufficient time to overpower him. Another longer pause. There. I have released the lock on the room I am in. Come now, Steve, quickly. I am ready.

  She took a deep, steadying breath and ran for the house. It took her less than a minute to reach the house, but King was faster yet. The front door opened, a meaty hand grabbed her arm, and yanked her into the house. Before she could defend herself, she was firmly secured against King's hulking body with both her wrists trapped in one of his large hands and his forearm pressed threateningly against her throat.

  "Are you part cat, little girl? I understood you were dead."

  In a strangled whisper, Steve quipped, "Well, you know how unreliable rumors are." She tested the hold he had on her. Immediately he increased the pressure on her larynx.

  "If I snapped your neck right now, would you come back to haunt me again? You and your friend have caused me considerable embarrassment. I am under orders not to touch him, but as far as Mr. Underwood is concerned, you are already dead, so it appears that I may deal with you as I please."

  King continued to taunt her with his vast knowledge of ways to end a human life with as much suffering as possible, but she heard only Falcon in her mind. Hold on, Steve. I am in the hallway, but he is turned toward me. If I step out, he will see me and may terminate you quickly in order to confront me. Try to get him to turn around.

  Steve forced out a squeak. King allowed her a slight reprieve, enough to croak out a challenge. "You'd never get a chance to do any of those things if we started out on equal footing."

  He laughed at her foolish dare. "All's fair, Miss Barbanell. I have already bested you twice before you could even make your first move."

  "I could beat you in a fair fight," she countered self-confidently. "I've taken men your size down before with no more of a weapon than my body."

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  "Wouldn't it be an interesting exercise, though? I assure you I would do my best to defeat you, but if I lose, at least my death would be honorable."

  In the space of a heartbeat, King accepted her terms. He released her and gave her a shove as he took a step back and readied himself. She did not waste time rubbing her bruised throat. A straightforward attack was out of the question. Regardless of her boast, she knew she didn't stand a chance against him.

  "Come, little girl. Show me what you can do." His body was balanced, his hands moving in front of him.

  Gracefully, she entered into the dance, performing artistic, professional steps. She took advantage of the seconds he was allowing her to prepare and, keeping just beyond his arm's length, she glided to his left. Another step and a full turn forced him to turn to continue facing her. As she knew he would, his gaze held fast to hers, and she was careful not to look away or to glance toward the hall behind him, as she was so tempted to do.

  Abruptly changing her pace, she attacked with a succession of fluid movements of her hands and arms, aimed at the air around him. Confused by her tactic, his gaze followed her hands. What appeared to be a senseless use of energy gave Falcon the seconds he needed to reach King from behind and touch his temple.

  King's face went blank. Then like a marionette his huge body folded to the floor.

  Steve jumped over him and right into Falcon's arms. He held her so tightly she could barely breathe and couldn't care less. All that mattered was seeing him again. Slowly, he let her slide down his body until she could stand, but he was in no hurry to release her. He placed joyful kisses on her forehead, her eyes, her nose, then angled his mouth over hers for a final confirmation that he was as glad to see her as she was him. This kiss was unlike any they had shared. It was soft and adoring, not passionate and anxious, although she knew it would take very little to make it so. Falcon raised his head and smiled. He knew it, too.

  "He should remain asleep for several hours, but it is hard to tell. He has a very disciplined mind. I will secure him in the room where I was held, then I will share with you what I learned from him just now." With little more than a flex of his muscles, Falcon lifted the inert man, slung him over his shoulder, and went back down the hallway.

  As soon as he returned, Steve moved toward him, wanting nothing more than to continue their reunion, but she saw that the former, unemotional Falcon had returned to her. Immediately, she halted and lowered the hand she had raised to touch him. He was absolutely right. They still had business to take care of.

  Falcon felt her swift mood change and softened his expression. He took both of her hands in his and kissed her fingertips. "No, Steve. Do not try to hold your feelings from me. I welcome your touch, even if I do not show it. I have practiced emotional control for a lifetime. Be patient with me."

  She stretched up to offer him a brief kiss of understanding, then stepped back. "And I have always had too little control. So tell me, what's up?"

  Keeping her hands in his, he briefly related what had happened to him after he had arrived in Alaska. "The man you seek, Nesterman, is safely secured in a room at the end of that hall." Before she could celebrate the good news, he gave her the bad.

  "Underwood and Delphina have transported into Innerworld. They have my ring now as well as the first one."

  "Oh, my God." Her mind spun with questions. They had found Nesterman but lost his abductor. "Wouldn't someone have stopped Underwood and Delphina as soon as they arrived?"

  "Yesterday, I am certain that is what would have happened. But not many hours ago I surprised the technician on duty by arriving with you, then was given authority to use the transmigrator again. Apparently you were sent off with the governor's permission, also." He paused and Steve nodded. "Whether it is the same tech or not, word would have spread that the travel restrictions have been modified, and the person on duty might not question the arrival of two more people.

  "Another advantage they have lies in Delphina's abilities. To have operated the ring successfully, she must have touched my mind while I was unconscious. I have no way of knowing how much she learned or how Underwood could utilize any information gleaned. If nothing else, she would know that mentioning Governor Romulus and the present emergency might abort any questions. After that, almost anything is possible.

  "King knew nothing of his employer's plans other than that he was going to Delphina's home and planned to return here. I never touched Underwood, but I felt the blackness of his aura and know he is intelligent and power-hungry—altogether a very dangerous com
bination."

  "If you have no ring, how will we follow him?"

  "We?" Falcon asked with raised eyebrows.

  "Don't even think about hunting him down without me, buster. I already convinced your friend, Aster, you needed my help. We're wasting valuable time here. Now, what's your plan?"

  Falcon released Steve's hands and walked to the window. The sun was rising on a new day, but there was too much turmoil inside him to appreciate it. Taking Steve to Innerworld had been against the law, but he felt justified. Taking her back with him to continue their search would not be viewed with the same leniency. He should leave her here.

  "Falcon?" Steve came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. With her cheek against his back, she felt him take a deep breath and hold it for several seconds before releasing it. He was trying to use his formidable control against her. "Don't do this," she begged, holding him tighter. "Not yet. Please. I'm prepared to say good-bye when the case is over. I swear I am. But you have to give me that much time. Let me stay with you awhile longer,"

  He closed his eyes and let her feelings flow through him. There were some he recognized, but they were altered by a powerful emotion that he had frequently absorbed from other people, but had never had directed at him. This emotion was warm and giving, hungry and possessive. He could feel its tendrils wrapping him in a silken cocoon that could be comforting and confining at the same time.

  Love. He felt it strongest when he was with his friends, Aster and Romulus, but he had never completely understood the feeling until this moment. As he examined this emotion, he also knew that it was causing Steve pain because she believed the feeling was not returned. Was he capable of returning her love? Could he allow himself such an experience and remain apart from her? No. Yes. No!

  Falcon turned in Steve's arms and tenderly stroked her cheek with his fingertips. "Steve, I am appreciative—"

  "No!" she interrupted. Her tormented expression was reflected in his unusual eyes, and she knew he was aware of what she was feeling. "Since there is obviously no way I can pretend to feel differently than I do with you, at least spare me the indignity of having to discuss the hopelessness of it. I really do understand, but I also believe you owe me one final consideration. Actually, I want two. Let me finish my job at your side wherever that takes us."

  He frowned slightly, knowing he should deny her, but could not. "You have the right to be present when Underwood is stopped. I will take you. And the second thing you wish?"

  "One more night." Her throat constricted as she held back the tears that threatened. With you.

  Falcon crushed her to him, then concentrated on separating her emotions from his own. Impossible. They were much too similar. "I am not certain how 'considerate' it is for me to agree to that request, but since it is something I need as much as my next breath, I do not have the strength to refuse." He inched her away just enough to capture her mouth in a kiss that would have to hold them both until that promised night.

  "You never answered my question," Steve managed to remind him when he freed her. "What now?"

  "We have an emissary in Fairbanks who can assist us. What do you wish to do with Nesterman?"

  "Well have to take him with us to Fairbanks. If you've got an address where we can leave him, I'll call Lou and tell him to pick Nesterman up there. I'll have him arrange for King's arrest here."

  "I assume Nesterman knows about the ring and Delphina. I will have to take away the memories of what he has discovered."

  "Can you just take away parts? I would hate for him not to be able to testify against Underwood."

  "I will do my best. Then I will put him to sleep as I did King."

  "All right. I can't come up with anything better."

  Fifteen minutes later Nesterman was peacefully dreaming about being reunited with his wife, his knowledge of the ring revised and the memory of Delphina completely erased. He would remember being rescued by an American investigator and an Interpol agent. After the problem of Nesterman's memory was settled, Steve and Falcon burned his voluminous notes in the fireplace before they left the room.

  Satisfied, Steve searched for a telephone only to be frustrated anew. "The line is dead."

  Chapter Eighteen

  We have scotch'd the snake, not killed it. —William Shakespeare

  "I do not understand."

  "The telephone line is disconnected," Steve explained with a grimace. "We can't call out."

  "Then we must go to Fairbanks."

  "Right. Let's see what kind of transportation Underwood left behind."

  They found a seaplane anchored on the bank of the lake, and an all-terrain vehicle and a snowmobile in the garage. The decision process was made simple by the facts that Steve could not fly a plane and there was no snow on the ground. After a quick search of the garage and the house, however, they had not found the keys to the ATV.

  "I do not believe that is a serious problem, Steve. I had the opportunity to study an automobile when you were in the hospital and my telekenetic ability has continued to strengthen. I should be able to start the motor without the keys. I could drive if you would prefer."

  Steve smiled. "I think I'd still like to do the driving, thank you, but I'll leave the magic to you. I saw a map in the glove compartment so we shouldn't get lost. Not that there are too many roads in the Alaskan frontier anyway. I figure we have about a three-hour drive to Fairbanks, maybe a little more."

  They delayed their departure only long enough to borrow three warm coats from a closet. Steve was fairly certain it would warm up later in the day, but as they left Underwood's house with Nesterman slumped unconscious over Falcon's shoulder, the weather was quite chilly.

  King stretched and tested his muscles before attempting to rise. He could not recall how he came to be in Mr. Underwood's special room. In fact, his mind seemed like a blank sheet of paper. No, not quite blank—erased. Remaining very still, he concentrated as he willed his mind into a meditative state. Ever so slowly, he began to recall images and thoughts, like disappearing ink in reverse.

  Barbanell! The woman was somehow responsible for his present situation. She was also the reason Mr. Underwood's opinion of him had lowered so drastically. There was something more to that memory, something that remained just out of reach, but it refused to come again. No matter. Because of her, he had lost face with the man to whom he owed his life.

  The years had been good since Mr. Underwood accidentally interrupted the gang that had been intent on taking King's life in Hong Kong. With his broken jaw and bashed teeth, he had barely been able to speak, but he had pledged his loyalty to the American man from that moment on. Mr. Underwood had him taken to a hospital and, when he had healed, had made arrangements for him to be supported and educated. King had accepted his new name along with anything else the eccentric man had wished to gift him with. After all, in the world he came from, he belonged to Mr. Underwood. In return, King had promised to serve him any way he was told for as long as he and his benefactor lived.

  And now he had failed again. There would be no forgiveness from Mr. Underwood this time. He would not want to hear that a dead woman came back to life, overpowered a man twice her size, and then locked him in this room. King had been told to do away with her, and, if it was the last thing he did, he would obey that order.

  Mr. Underwood planned the room with a fail-safe feature that anticipated the possibility of his being trapped in it. King went to the curio cabinet, its glass door ajar. Staring at the open door for a moment, he tried to recall what significance that should have, but decided it was unimportant. He extracted a fancy pocket watch and pointed the stem at the door to the room, careful not to touch the glass front until he was ready. The heat of his index finger on the required sequence of numbers on the clock's face deactivated the sophisticated lock, and the door opened silently.

  As he stepped out of the room, another memory returned. Karl Nesterman—the man he was to guard with his own life. Even before he saw the ope
n door, he had a feeling Nesterman's apartment would be empty. So! Barbanell had helped Nesterman escape. Another black mark on King's record because of her.

  A few minutes later he was standing in an empty garage, smiling because of what the missing vehicle signified. There was only one direction the ATV could leave the property. Checking his watch, he knew she could not have gotten too far yet. He had two distinct advantages: He knew where she was headed, and he had faster transportation.

  He had already learned the hard way, however, that with the Barbanell woman he could not afford to be cocky. Two advantages might not be enough. Going back in the house, he went into the office and rapidly spun the combination dial on the walk-in safe.

  Mr. Underwood had always relished his privacy, but at his Alaskan retreat he was more fanatical than usual. He had refused King's suggestion that they employ several bodyguards, insisting that it was imperative that no one else know about this hideaway. The responsibility of protecting the house and its inhabitants had rested on King's broad shoulders alone.

  As in numerous other fields, King was an expert in weaponry. He had stocked the safe with a sufficient variety of modern armaments to ward off an attack by a small army. Up to this moment, there had been no need to remove a single item from the safe. King quickly made his selections and headed for the plane.

  "Thank goodness, a paved road!" Steve applied the brakes a bit too exuberantly, causing the vehicle to fishtail in the gravel. They had been driving for over an hour on what had to be Underwood's private driveway. The expense list on the house had shown a small fortune in road clearing and stone. She assumed the ruts and fallen trees were purposely placed to discourage the curious from following the narrow lane all the way to the house.

  Before stepping on the gas again, Steve turned around and checked on their sleeping passenger in the back seat. At least Nesterman had been unbothered by the bone-jarring ride.