Authors: Marilyn Campbell
Topaz Dreams (25 page)
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 combination."
"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."
"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 open
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.
The paved road was barely wide
enough for two cars to pass one another, but Steve figured that that
probably was a rare occurrence. Tall spruce trees crowded in on them
from both sides. Every so often a break in the forest would allow them
a glimpse of hazy mountains in the distance.
Falcon pointed to a spot on the map. "I believe this X is where we are now. It does not look like we have traveled very far."
"Are we close to the Yukon River? I remember seeing a small town on the other side of it."
"If I am reading this properly, it is about fifty miles from here."
Just as Steve began to relax, anxiety took possession of her body. "Falcon, I... I feel really strange."
Without asking permission, his fingers contacted her temples.
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "That's it! Tense and scared, without any reason for feeling that way. Am I doing that or are you?"
"I
believe you are picking up on my emotions this time, Steve. I suddenly
have an overwhelming sense of impending danger." He withdrew his hand.
"What do you feel now? Don't think about it, just answer."
"It's
getting stronger, like something coming closer and closer. I don't
understand, Falcon. I don't have any psychic powers. Are you able to
put feelings in my head like you do words?"
"I do not know if I am able, but I assure you I am not doing it intentionally."
"Aster talked about a bond between us. Is that what's happening?"
"Perhaps. This is not the time to experiment further. Listen."
Steve
cocked her head, but heard only the car's engine and the wind blowing
in through the slightly opened windows. She shook her head negatively.
"Do not listen with your ears. Listen with your mind."
She
took her eyes off the road for a second to give him a look of
disbelief. Then she heard it. "An engine? A plane engine," she said
more certainly. Lowering the window further, she leaned her head out to
survey the sky. "I don't see anything, but I feel like I know there's a
plane up there. This is too weird, Falcon. I'm getting really
frightened and I don't like it one bit. Can't you stop it?"
"No. Your fear is justified. Use it to prepare. Do you sense the darkness as well?"
"What?
Wait. Yes, I think I understand. What does it mean? Damn! My heart's
pounding like crazy, and my stomach's not doing so well, either." She
angled the rear-view mirror so that she could keep one eye on the sky
behind her.
"Use your inner strength to control your body's
reactions. You have the capability, Steve. Command it. We will soon
know the source of the danger."
As he said the words, Steve caught sight of a small seaplane coming into view. "Is that Underwood's plane back there?"
"Yes, and King is piloting it. Obviously, I underestimated his abilities to recover and to remember."
Steve
pressed the gas pedal to the floor, but the plane continued to reduce
the distance between them. A moment later it buzzed the treetops
overhead, then climbed back toward the clouds.
"There's no way he
can land." Steve concluded reassuringly. "The wingspan's too great. As
long as we're in the forest, we should be okay."
The plane circled
in the sky in front of them, then returned to skim the tops of the
evergreens again. Steve tried to ignore the fact that King was up there
and began adjusting to the shock of an emotional onslaught. King's
attempts to unnerve her by his presence were feeble compared to this.
"Steve, I am picking up extremely strong emotions from King. There is pride, frustration, and ..."
"Desperation,"
Steve said, easily completing his analysis. "He's absolutely desperate
about something. I don't understand how I know that, but I do. Here he
comes again!"
Rat-a-tat! Rat-a-tat! The gunfire sounded overhead a second before three bullet holes appeared in the hood of their vehicle.
"The
man is nuts! He's actually shooting at us. How the hell can he manage
an airplane that size and aim a gun at the same time?"
"As you said, he is a desperate man. I recommend some evasive driving, Steve. He returns."
Steve
swerved the heavy vehicle to the left and right, but there was little
space in which to maneuver, short of driving into a tree. Repeatedly,
King performed his death-defying stunt, swooping down and tipping the
plane at an angle that allowed him to fire as he soared by. On his
fourth pass, another bullet struck the ATV. A quick glance in the
mirror told Steve they were laying a thin trail of fluid behind them.
"Damn
it anyway! I think he hit the gas tank. I hope you're wearing your
hiking shoes. It looks like a slow leak, but I doubt if well make it to
the river, let alone to that town, before we run out of gas."
"We
must concern ourselves with one dilemma at a time. King has not tired
of this game as yet." Falcon pointed to the sky, where the seaplane was
making another approach. "He is not aiming a gun this time, Steve. He
is holding something else out the window."
"What the—"
Her
unfinished question was answered by an ear-splitting blast behind them.
The reverberations rocked the ATV but caused no damage. Steve swivelled
her head around and gaped at the thick cloud of smoke and falling
debris. "Oh, geez! The man's got grenades. We're sitting ducks."
"Stop!" Falcon ordered.
Steve
slammed on the brakes in time to prevent the car from driving straight
into the path of the next grenade. Automatically, they had both ducked
their heads, saving themselves from being mutilated by shattering glass.
"It didn't take him long to correct his aim," Steve said wryly. "Be careful. You're covered with glass. Are you okay otherwise?"
"Yes,
but it is not over yet. King is feeling very pleased with himself. He
probably believes he has disabled us. He comes again, filled with
confidence. Get ready to go with as much speed as possible."
Steve
brushed splinters of glass off the steering wheel before gripping it
again. Keeping one foot on the clutch and one on the gas, she revved
the engine in preparation for Falcon's signal.
"Now!"
With tires
spinning, Steve pushed the gas pedal to the floor and tore through the
smoky residue in front of them. A heartbeat later the third grenade
detonated on the spot where they had been idling.
"He's getting too
close, and we're just about out of tricks. Look at the gas gauge. The
needle shows empty. We'll be running on fumes any minute now," Steve
added.
"I do not believe it will matter. That last miss caused King
great annoyance. I believe he is preparing to end the game. I feel him
drawing in his emotions, gathering all his mental and physical strength
into a central core of determination."
Steve watched the seaplane
fly on ahead. "Maybe he's going to land in the river and wait for us at
the bridge. That's what I would do."
"I do not believe he thinks as
you do. Besides, he might be concerned that his actions might be
witnessed outside of the forest. Keep driving, but remain alert."
Several minutes passed before the plane reappeared on the horizon, heading back toward them.
"Slow down, Steve. Gradually. When I tell you, stop and run into the forest."
Steve
stiffened but said nothing. She knew better than to question Falcon's
wisdom. The plane descended as it came nearer, just as it had several
times previously. Suddenly Steve realized what Falcon had somehow
already surmised. The nose of the plane was pointing downward at a
greater angle and seemed to be coming faster than before.
"Now!" Falcon shouted, and threw open his door.
Steve
instantly applied the brakes, but before the vehicle came to a stop,
Falcon had hauled Nesterman out with him and hefted him over his
shoulder again. Glancing back as she ran after Falcon, Steve saw the
plane diving straight down toward the ATV.
The explosion hurled them
through the air like rag dolls. Steve's breath was knocked from her
body as she hit the ground, but she remained conscious. Rising to her
knees, she scanned the area and located the two men. Nesterman's
totally relaxed state had probably prevented him from being injured,
she realized, but Falcon wasn't moving, either. She crawled to where he
lay against the trunk of a tree. His groan assured her that he was
alive.
Another explosion grabbed her attention. The plane, minus its
wings, had hit its mark. Both it and the ATV were ablaze. They had to
get away before the whole forest went up in flames!
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 combination."
"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."We have scotch'd the snake, not killed it. —William Shakespeare
"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 open
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.
The paved road was barely wide
enough for two cars to pass one another, but Steve figured that that
probably was a rare occurrence. Tall spruce trees crowded in on them
from both sides. Every so often a break in the forest would allow them
a glimpse of hazy mountains in the distance.
Falcon pointed to a spot on the map. "I believe this X is where we are now. It does not look like we have traveled very far."
"Are we close to the Yukon River? I remember seeing a small town on the other side of it."
"If I am reading this properly, it is about fifty miles from here."
Just as Steve began to relax, anxiety took possession of her body. "Falcon, I... I feel really strange."
Without asking permission, his fingers contacted her temples.
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "That's it! Tense and scared, without any reason for feeling that way. Am I doing that or are you?"
"I
believe you are picking up on my emotions this time, Steve. I suddenly
have an overwhelming sense of impending danger." He withdrew his hand.
"What do you feel now? Don't think about it, just answer."
"It's
getting stronger, like something coming closer and closer. I don't
understand, Falcon. I don't have any psychic powers. Are you able to
put feelings in my head like you do words?"
"I do not know if I am able, but I assure you I am not doing it intentionally."
"Aster talked about a bond between us. Is that what's happening?"
"Perhaps. This is not the time to experiment further. Listen."
Steve
cocked her head, but heard only the car's engine and the wind blowing
in through the slightly opened windows. She shook her head negatively.
"Do not listen with your ears. Listen with your mind."
She
took her eyes off the road for a second to give him a look of
disbelief. Then she heard it. "An engine? A plane engine," she said
more certainly. Lowering the window further, she leaned her head out to
survey the sky. "I don't see anything, but I feel like I know there's a
plane up there. This is too weird, Falcon. I'm getting really
frightened and I don't like it one bit. Can't you stop it?"
"No. Your fear is justified. Use it to prepare. Do you sense the darkness as well?"
"What?
Wait. Yes, I think I understand. What does it mean? Damn! My heart's
pounding like crazy, and my stomach's not doing so well, either." She
angled the rear-view mirror so that she could keep one eye on the sky
behind her.
"Use your inner strength to control your body's
reactions. You have the capability, Steve. Command it. We will soon
know the source of the danger."
As he said the words, Steve caught sight of a small seaplane coming into view. "Is that Underwood's plane back there?"
"Yes, and King is piloting it. Obviously, I underestimated his abilities to recover and to remember."
Steve
pressed the gas pedal to the floor, but the plane continued to reduce
the distance between them. A moment later it buzzed the treetops
overhead, then climbed back toward the clouds.
"There's no way he
can land." Steve concluded reassuringly. "The wingspan's too great. As
long as we're in the forest, we should be okay."
The plane circled
in the sky in front of them, then returned to skim the tops of the
evergreens again. Steve tried to ignore the fact that King was up there
and began adjusting to the shock of an emotional onslaught. King's
attempts to unnerve her by his presence were feeble compared to this.
"Steve, I am picking up extremely strong emotions from King. There is pride, frustration, and ..."
"Desperation,"
Steve said, easily completing his analysis. "He's absolutely desperate
about something. I don't understand how I know that, but I do. Here he
comes again!"
Rat-a-tat! Rat-a-tat! The gunfire sounded overhead a second before three bullet holes appeared in the hood of their vehicle.
"The
man is nuts! He's actually shooting at us. How the hell can he manage
an airplane that size and aim a gun at the same time?"
"As you said, he is a desperate man. I recommend some evasive driving, Steve. He returns."
Steve
swerved the heavy vehicle to the left and right, but there was little
space in which to maneuver, short of driving into a tree. Repeatedly,
King performed his death-defying stunt, swooping down and tipping the
plane at an angle that allowed him to fire as he soared by. On his
fourth pass, another bullet struck the ATV. A quick glance in the
mirror told Steve they were laying a thin trail of fluid behind them.
"Damn
it anyway! I think he hit the gas tank. I hope you're wearing your
hiking shoes. It looks like a slow leak, but I doubt if well make it to
the river, let alone to that town, before we run out of gas."
"We
must concern ourselves with one dilemma at a time. King has not tired
of this game as yet." Falcon pointed to the sky, where the seaplane was
making another approach. "He is not aiming a gun this time, Steve. He
is holding something else out the window."
"What the—"
Her
unfinished question was answered by an ear-splitting blast behind them.
The reverberations rocked the ATV but caused no damage. Steve swivelled
her head around and gaped at the thick cloud of smoke and falling
debris. "Oh, geez! The man's got grenades. We're sitting ducks."
"Stop!" Falcon ordered.
Steve
slammed on the brakes in time to prevent the car from driving straight
into the path of the next grenade. Automatically, they had both ducked
their heads, saving themselves from being mutilated by shattering glass.
"It didn't take him long to correct his aim," Steve said wryly. "Be careful. You're covered with glass. Are you okay otherwise?"
"Yes,
but it is not over yet. King is feeling very pleased with himself. He
probably believes he has disabled us. He comes again, filled with
confidence. Get ready to go with as much speed as possible."
Steve
brushed splinters of glass off the steering wheel before gripping it
again. Keeping one foot on the clutch and one on the gas, she revved
the engine in preparation for Falcon's signal.
"Now!"
With tires
spinning, Steve pushed the gas pedal to the floor and tore through the
smoky residue in front of them. A heartbeat later the third grenade
detonated on the spot where they had been idling.
"He's getting too
close, and we're just about out of tricks. Look at the gas gauge. The
needle shows empty. We'll be running on fumes any minute now," Steve
added.
"I do not believe it will matter. That last miss caused King
great annoyance. I believe he is preparing to end the game. I feel him
drawing in his emotions, gathering all his mental and physical strength
into a central core of determination."
Steve watched the seaplane
fly on ahead. "Maybe he's going to land in the river and wait for us at
the bridge. That's what I would do."
"I do not believe he thinks as
you do. Besides, he might be concerned that his actions might be
witnessed outside of the forest. Keep driving, but remain alert."
Several minutes passed before the plane reappeared on the horizon, heading back toward them.
"Slow down, Steve. Gradually. When I tell you, stop and run into the forest."
Steve
stiffened but said nothing. She knew better than to question Falcon's
wisdom. The plane descended as it came nearer, just as it had several
times previously. Suddenly Steve realized what Falcon had somehow
already surmised. The nose of the plane was pointing downward at a
greater angle and seemed to be coming faster than before.
"Now!" Falcon shouted, and threw open his door.
Steve
instantly applied the brakes, but before the vehicle came to a stop,
Falcon had hauled Nesterman out with him and hefted him over his
shoulder again. Glancing back as she ran after Falcon, Steve saw the
plane diving straight down toward the ATV.
The explosion hurled them
through the air like rag dolls. Steve's breath was knocked from her
body as she hit the ground, but she remained conscious. Rising to her
knees, she scanned the area and located the two men. Nesterman's
totally relaxed state had probably prevented him from being injured,
she realized, but Falcon wasn't moving, either. She crawled to where he
lay against the trunk of a tree. His groan assured her that he was
alive.
Another explosion grabbed her attention. The plane, minus its
wings, had hit its mark. Both it and the ATV were ablaze. They had to
get away before the whole forest went up in flames!
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