"Good agency," she managed in what she hoped was a breezy tone.
"So I'm told. But I haven't been introduced to a single potential candidate yet."
Morgan gave him a commiserating look. "Sounds like you and Orchid have something in common. Neither one of you can get a date."
Chapter 5
Orchid leaned forward to peer through the windshield when Rafe halted the Acer at the front gates.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"My place." He activated the remote control to open the gates. "I brought you here so that we could discuss our new job. You do remember that contract I signed in your boss's office this afternoon?"
"I remember."
The gates swung wide. Orchid sat beside him, wrapped in silence, as he drove through the trees that shielded the front of the big house.
He had not realized that he had braced himself for her reaction to his home until she spoke.
"Good grief. This is where you live?"
"Yes." He brought the Acer to a stop in front of the broad steps and deactivated the engine.
"It's incredible." She gazed at the dark, looming mansion with unmistakable delight. "What a fantastic place. I spent the entire amount of my first book advance on a genuine Later Expansion period sofa. You've got a whole house from that period."
He had been afraid this would happen, he told himself as he cracked open the Acer door and got out. She not only loved the damned house, it felt right bringing her here. Very right. All of his senses were pulsing in tempo with the invisible rhythms of the night.
He looked back through the open Acer door and watched Orchid as she watched his house.
"I'd give anything to live in a house like this," she whispered.
"Funny you should say that."
"But why would anyone want to steal an alien relic?" Orchid swirled the ridiculously expensive moontree brandy in her glass and watched Rafe as he stood in front of the fireplace.
She had found herself reluctantly fascinated by the tale he had just outlined. A stolen artifact, a mysteriously dead thief, and the client's request for absolute discretion. It sounded like one of her own plots.
"People steal things for a wide variety of reasons," Rafe said quietly.
"Yes, but there usually is a reason. I don't understand what it would be in this case. From what I've heard you can't do anything with the alien relics. No one knows what their tools were used for, if they were tools. None of them function any more. The experts don't even know how they were powered. All anyone seems sure of is that they're very, very old and that they aren't native to St. Helens."
The first small cache of alien artifacts had been discovered by Lucas Trent. He had found them in the course of a jelly-ice prospecting venture in the jungles of the Western Islands. Trent had given his finds to the New Seattle Art Museum which had, in turn, formed a research partnership with the science and history faculties of the University of New Seattle.
Another, much larger cache of relics had actually been located by the third Chastain Expedition several years earlier. The records of the find had been lost because all but one of the expedition team members had been murdered by a mad spec-talent before the reports could be filed. The "alien tomb," as the cache was referred to in the press, had been rediscovered by the fourth Chastain Expedition last year.
The huge collection of artifacts had caused a sensation.
Speculation ran rampant in the tabloids. Stories featuring women who claimed to have given birth to space alien babies were popular fare at the supermarket checkout counters. The Return cults, predictably, wove the relics into their ludicrous, quasireligious notions regarding the Curtain. Novels and films featuring the artifacts were popular.
But when all was said and done, Orchid knew, the experts had learned virtually nothing about the alien relics. They remained a fascinating enigma.
"You've worked with me often enough to know that people steal for some strange reasons," Rafe said. "Collectors are a unique breed."
Orchid thought of Elvira Turlock. "Do you think there's actually an underground market for alien artifacts?"
"It would not surprise me." Rafe took a thoughtful sip of his brandy. "But there are other possibilities."
"Such as?"
"The Return cults. Some of them have seized on the discovery of the alien relics to expand their crazy claims about the Curtain. It's conceivable that one of the more off-the-wall cult leaders arranged for the theft in order to get his or her hands on a genuine alien artifact."
"I see what you mean. Be great for show-and-tell at the next meeting of the believers, wouldn't it?"
"Yes." Rafe paused. "But the fact that the cult leader would have to display the stolen relic to his followers in order to get any mileage out of it makes me think that's a less likely scenario than it appears."
"Why do you say that?" Orchid waited expectantly. She knew that Rafe would have a reason for his deduction. He always backed up his leaps of strat-talent intuition with cold, hard logic.
"Because as soon as the cult leader starts to flash his own, personal alien artifact around at the temple meetings, he or she runs the risk that someone in the audience will mention the relic to outsiders. And sooner or later, someone will. It's inevitable."
"You're right." But then, he was always right, she thought. It was one of his less endearing traits. "People, even devout cult members, are bound to talk about something like that. Once the word got out that the leader had the artifact, everyone would know what happened to the stolen lab relic."
"All of which does not mean that some cult leader did not steal it. Crazy people do crazy things. But most of the leaders in the Return cults are businesspeople, first and foremost. They're in the racket to make a profit. They're not stupid or crazy. I doubt if any of them actually believe their own drivel. Why do something that would jeopardize the scam?"
"So, I take it you're leaning toward the theory that the relic was stolen by an eccentric collector?"
"At this point, it would seem to make the most sense." Rafe hesitated. "But I'm not sure. There's something about this that doesn't feel right, yet"
"Okay, you've got two possibilities so far, an eccentric collector or a mad cult leader. Any others?"
Rafe raised his gaze from the flames. His eyes were as enigmatic as any alien relic. "No. But I may come up with some after we pay a visit to the lab that lost the artifact."
"When are we going to do that?"
"Tomorrow evening after the staff has left for the day.
I've made arrangements with the lab's director, Dr. Alexander Brizo. He'll meet us there."
"We're going to visit the lab after hours?"
Rafe's mouth curved faintly. "I do my best work at night."
"Yes, I know, but I would have thought time was of the essence in this situation. If you wait until tomorrow night to start on the case, you'll have wasted a whole day."
"I've already started work and tomorrow won't be wasted, either. There's a lot of basic investigation to do before we go to the lab."
"Such as?"
"I contacted one of my sources on the street. A man named Whistler. He's got contacts into the underground art world. If there are any rumors about the artifact going into a private collection, he'll hear them."
"Sounds like a good start."
He arched one brow. "Thank you."
She blushed. It occurred to her that the remark had been the verbal equivalent of a pat on the head. "You know what I mean."
He ignored that. "I also spent today talking to some people who knew the lab technician Brizo believes stole the relic."
Orchid brightened. "There's a suspect?"
"Yes. But he's dead."
"Dead." She stared at him, astonished. "I don't understand. Who is this suspect?"