Still no sign of Nick.
Zinnia wondered if he'd gone the wrong way. He would not be pleased when he realized he had missed the intruder, she thought. But it would be better for all concerned if he failed to stop the photographer.
The running man vanished around the bend in the drive. Zinnia listened for the sound of a distant car engine signaling that the intruder had made his getaway. She heard nothing.
Another minute ticked past. Two. Three.
She did not care for the growing silence.
"Nick?"
More silence.
"Where are you?" She unfolded her arms and went down the front steps. "Nick, answer me."
A shadow detached itself from one of the fern-trees at the edge of the courtyard and came toward her.
"I got the film," Nick said.
She frowned. "I do hope you didn't do anything violent to that man. He could cause you a great deal of trouble."
"I don't think he'll be a problem." Moonlight gleamed on Nick's hair as he walked toward her. "He turned over the film without a single argument."
Zinnia sighed. "You can't just go around intimidating people, Nick. Not if you want to be respectable."
His teeth flashed briefly in the shadows. "Shows how much you know."
"What do you mean, there's a photo of me in today's issue of Synsation?" Zinnia slammed the door of Psynergy, Inc. and hurried toward the front desk. "That's impossible."
"It's definitely you, Zin." Byron wore an expression of deep awe as he gazed at the photo on the cover of the tabloid. "A whole new you, though. What happened? Did you and Chastain get into a wrestling match or something?"
Clementine stormed out of her office to peer over his shoulder. "Or something." She raised grim worried eyes to Zinnia's face. "So much for my good advice. Don't know why I bother."
Zinnia donned a cloak of aloof dignity. "I told you, Mr. Chastain hired me to do the interiors of the old Garrett estate."
Clementine's steel rings flashed as she pointed at the photo. "Looks to me like he was doing you."
"Don't be crude." Zinnia forgot about her dignity. She snatched up the tabloid and stared at the frontpage photo. "Oh, dear."
The picture was excruciatingly clear. It showed her standing in the doorway of the mansion. Nick was directly behind her. She was annoyed to see that in the shot he appeared as darkly enigmatic, and mysterious as always.
Unfortunately, she looked like a woman who had just made wild uninhibited love on the floor. Her sunrise-hued dress was buttoned askew, revealing enough cleavage to send Aunt Wilhelmina into hysterics. Her hair was tousled around her face and her expression could only be described as sultry. The caption under the photo said it all.
Does local casino owner Nick Chastain have designs on his new interior designer, the Scarlet Lady?
Zinnia glanced at the photo credit and saw that the photographer's name was Cedric Dexter. "Nick said he got the film out of the man's camera."
"Photographers who work for Synsation are real resourceful," Byron said, not without a note of sympathy. "My guess is this one had two cameras with him. Chastain probably never even saw the second one."
"Nick is not going to be pleased," Zinnia said. "I think his plan to become respectable has just suffered another setback."
Nick tossed the copy of Synsation into the waste-basket. He looked at Feather. "Get the editor of that rag on the phone,"
"Sure, boss." Feather took a step back toward the door. "Speaking of phone calls, I got a message for you from someone named Stonebraker. He called a few minutes ago, just before you walked in the door."
Anticipation replaced seething irritation. "What's the message?"
"He said to give you a name and an address." Feather removed a notepad from his pocket. "Alfred Wilkes. At two-twenty-three West Old Vashon Street."
Nick hesitated, torn between the urge to deal with the editor of Synsation and the arguably more important issue of talking to the master forger.
"Hold the call to the editor." He got to his feet. "He'll keep. I'll take care of him later."
"Right, boss." Feather paused. "You going out to this address?"
"Yes." Nick walked around the edge of his desk and grabbed his jacket off the chair where he had tossed it a few minutes earlier. "I don't know when I'll be back. This could take a while."
Feather eyed him thoughtfully. "Want backup?"
"No, not this time." Nick hooked the jacket over his shoulder and led the way out of the inner office.
The secret panel slid shut. With Feather at his heels, he crossed the gilded chamber and opened the door.
Voices rose in the hall.
"I'm sorry, Sir, Mr. Chastain is busy at the moment. I'll be glad to schedule an appointment."
A young man dressed in a sweater and khaki trousers leaned across the reception desk. His long hair was tied back with a thong. The muscles of his shoulders were bunched with rigid aggressive tension.
"You tell Chastain that if he doesn't see me right now I'll go downstairs to the casino and raise the kind of hell that will bring the cops. You hear me?"
"Sir, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask security to escort you off the premises," the receptionist said. He nodded to one of the guards. "Immediately."
"I'm not leaving until I see Chastain."
Nick started forward. "What's going on here?"
"I'm sorry, sir." The receptionist turned toward him. "Nothing we can't handle."
The young man's head came up sharply. "Chastain. Goddamnit, who the hell do you think you are to treat my sister as if she were your latest mistress?"
"You must be Leo."
"You got that much right." Leo bounded up onto the reception desk, leaped to the floor on the far side, and launched himself at Nick.
Chapter 15
Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw Feather move to intercept the charging Leo. The guard rounded the desk. The receptionist got to his feet and started to press a concealed button that would bring more assistance.
It all happened in less than two seconds, but to Nick's senses, sharpened by his matrix-talent instincts, every action was a clear distinct event in the total matrix. He sorted it all out and made his decision.
"No," he said softly.
With the exception of Leo, everyone in the hall froze as if they had been trapped in a deposit of jelly-ice.
Leo crashed into Nick, swinging his fist wildly. The force of the impact sent both of them to the thickly carpeted floor.
"Damn you." Leo scrambled awkwardly to his feet. Breathing heavily, he stood looking down at Nick. His face was twisted with rage. His fists were clenched at his side. "I won't let you use her, you bastard. She's taken enough bat-snake shit from guys like you."
Nick rose on one elbow and absently touched the edge of his mouth. When he glanced at his fingers he saw blood. He looked up at Leo.
"You want to talk about this in private?" he asked. "Or would you rather have all these nice people listen to us discuss your sister and her reputation?"
Leo scowled. He glanced hurriedly around and saw the watchful faces of Feather, the guards, and the receptionist. He flushed and turned back to Nick. "Why don't you sic your goons on me?"
"I don't employ goons." Nick got slowly to his feet, careful to keep a pragmatic distance between Leo and himself. "These folks are all highly skilled professionals."
"Yeah, right." Leo looked a little uncertain now. Common sense had obviously started to reassert itself. It was clear that he was no longer sure how to proceed. "What the hell do you think you're doing with my sister?"
Good question, Nick thought. He wished he knew the answer. All he could be sure of this morning was that he did not want to have to do without her. At least not yet. Maybe not for a long time.