"Which meant that the killer knew the journal was not there. He just wanted the police to think Morris had been murdered for drug money."
Nick nodded slowly. "The murderer had already commissioned a fake journal from Alfred Wilkes. He planted it so that Polly and Omar would find it and sell it to me. He wanted to put me off the scent."
Zinnia wrapped her hands around her damp iced coff-tea glass. "Whoever he is, he must not have realized that you're a high-class matrix."
"Maybe he thought he could fool me, even if I was a matrix."
"Very arrogant of him. But, then, this entire plan is breathtakingly arrogant."
"Yes."
"Nick, are you sure about all these conclusions? This is a very heavy-duty conspiracy theory, even for a matrix-talent like you."
"I'm as certain as I can be without hard proof. I have to find out who financed my father's last expedition."
"Thirty-five years have gone by," Zinnia said gently. "And the records have been destroyed."
Nick's eyes burned with a fierce light. "Even a matrix-talent would have a hard time getting rid of every single clerk, accountant, and secretary who worked in the budget offices of a large university thirty-five years ago."
Zinnia frowned. "I see what you mean. There must be a few left who would recall the source of the funds for the Third Expedition. Probably retired by now, though."
"We can trace them through their pensions. I'll have Feather make some calls this afternoon."
Zinnia smiled. "You're incredible."
"Is that a compliment or an accusation?"
"Never mind. What do I get to contribute to this new plan?"
"You've made your contribution." Nick picked up her hand and brushed his lips across her palm. "You are my inspiration. If it weren't for you, I would never have been able to put it all together so clearly and quickly."
She thought he was teasing her, but when she met his eyes she realized that he was deadly serious.
"Thanks," she muttered, "but I have higher aspirations. Being your inspiration just isn't enough for an overachiever like me."
"What do you want to do?"
Zinnia leaned back in her chair. "Why don't I talk to Professor DeForest again? Maybe he'll have some other interesting tidbits that you've discounted."
"Waste of time. The guy's got more than one screw loose." Nick reached for the phone that sat on a small table near a lounger.
"What are you going to do now?"
"Tell Feather to start looking for retirees from the University of New Portland's budget office."
"And when you've finished that?"
He gave her a sidelong glance that held a new kind of speculation. "I thought we could go for a swim."
"I don't have a suit."
"There's one in the cabana. Red. You can change while I'm giving instructions to Feather."
Chapter 19
The hot red swimsuit fit perfectly.
Naturally.
One of the really annoying things about matrix-talents was that they had a knack for estimating the distance, length, height, or width of just about anything. Show them a diagram of a complex multidimensional mathematical figure and they could quickly tell you the approximate angles of every intersecting line and the volumes of each defined space. Show them a woman and they could estimate her bra size.
Zinnia figured Nick probably had the coordinates of her measurements plotted on a matrix that he had stored somewhere in his very different brain. She wondered wistfully if he studied it occasionally when he was alone at night. Matrix masturbation was no doubt an interesting phenomena.
It was too bad that matrix-talents were not as good at personal relationships as they were with the spatial kind, she thought.
She walked to the edge of the pool and sat down.
For a few minutes she watched Nick do laps. She marveled that he did not cause the water to boil as he sliced through it. The energy he was radiating was palpable.
The sleek muscles of his shoulders glistened wetly. His powerful strokes propelled him forward with the lethal grace of a marauding shark-cuda. He had been raised in the Western Islands, Zinnia reminded herself. He had learned to swim in treacherous seas, not in a safe backyard swimming pool.
Midway through a lap Nick changed course and swam to meet her. When he reached the side, he braced himself in the deep water with one hand on the tile very close to her leg. He used his other hand to shove gleaming wet hair back from his high forehead.
"I see the suit fits." He surveyed her with undisguised satisfaction and something that could have been possessiveness.
"Perfectly."
He smiled. "And just your color."
She gazed down into his face and saw that his eyes still burned with the remnants of the fires of the focus link. "Do you have any other hobbies besides swimming?"
He looked surprised and then slightly baffled by the question. "Swimming isn't a hobby. I do it because it's an efficient way to exercise. I don't have any hobbies."
"I see." Typical obsessive matrix. There was no middle ground for them. Things were either compelling enough to warrant full attention and energy or they weren't worth doing at all.
He watched her closely. "Do you?"
"Have hobbies?" She shook her head ruefully. "Not really. I've been too busy with other things for the past few years. Someday I'd like to have a garden."
"You'll have to move out of that loft apartment if you want to have one."
"I know."
"You'd need a house and some land."
"Yes."
He was silent for a moment. Then, very deliberately, he put his hand on her bare thigh. He stroked slowly downward, briefly cupping her knee. She flinched at the touch of the cool water. Then the heat of his palm warmed her.
When he looked up again she saw that his eyes still burned. This time it wasn't just the smoldering embers of the focus link that blazed in the depths of his gaze.
"Have you made a decision?" he asked.
She knew what he meant. "Yes."
"Is that yes you've made up your mind, or yes you'll have an affair with me?"
"Yes to both."
"Zinnia, my talent may not drive me crazy, but you surely will."
He seemed to explode out of the water. Laughter and exultation flared in his eyes. His hands closed around her waist.
"Wait," she yelped. But it was too late.
He pulled her off the edge and toppled back into the pool with her in his arms.
"Take a breath," he warned.
The shock of hitting the cold water made her gasp.
Nick's teeth flashed in a wide grin. He plunged below the surface, drawing her down into the depths with him. The sudden sense of weightlessness made her feel giddy and disoriented.
He swam with her through the silent blue water world, his hold on her sure and confident. Down they went, into the deepest portion of the pool.
When they reached the bottom he tightened his grasp and soared back toward the light. Just when she thought she could not hold her breath a second longer, they broke the surface together.
"Beast." She laughed as she clutched his shoulders. "I'll get even for that. And you'll never know when it's coming."
"I can't wait."
The amusement in his eyes metamorphosed into sexual hunger with a speed that shook her to the core. His mouth closed over hers, searching, demanding, exciting.
When he raised his head a long time later she could feel her fingers trembling. If it had not been for his hands anchoring her against him, she would have floated away.
"I want this to be a real affair," he said.
"I don't see how much more real it can get."
His mouth tightened with impatience. "I mean I don't want to play any more games."
"Games?"
"We're not going to pretend that I've hired you as my interior designer."