"Do you think you might have anything in your personal files? The ones you said you kept in the family crypt?"
"Doubt it," Newton said. "Didn't bother much with the financial side of the story. I've always found money a rather dull subject. The aliens don't use money, you know. They've evolved beyond the need for cash."
"How convenient for them," Zinnia muttered. "Professor, I hate to put you to any more trouble, but would you mind very much just taking a look through your old files? Anything that dealt with the funding of the Third Expedition would be of great interest to me."
"Very well. But don't get your hopes up, Miss Spring. Even if I did find the name of a company that contributed funds for the project, what good would the information do you?"
"I don't know," Zinnia admitted.
She hung up the phone and sat thinking for a long time.
The larger and more complicated the mystery became, the more confusing it was. Or, as Nick would say, the more the elements in the matrix threatened to shift and realign themselves in meaningless patterns.
And the most disturbing factor of all was her relationship with the master of the matrix.
Chapter 20
Duncan smiled at Zinnia as he took her into his arms on the crowded dance floor. "You look lovely tonight. I'm only sorry it was Chastain who brought you. At least he let me have one dance."
Zinnia chuckled. They both knew Nick had not given his permission. He had been talking with a business acquaintance when Duncan had appeared at her side and asked for the dance. She had accepted without a second's hesitation even though she had been aware of Nick's frown of disapproval when he saw her take the floor with Duncan.
Start as you mean to go on, she told herself. If she was going to have an affair with an off-the-chart matrix, she had to get the rules straight at the very beginning. And the first rule was that Nick could not make all the rules. He could not control everything and everyone. He would drive them both crazy if he tried.
Zinnia was mildly surprised to discover that she was enjoying herself tonight. It had been a long time since she had last danced. The Founders' Club ballroom was a glittering scene. The jelly-ice chandeliers cast a warm romantic glow over the well-dressed crowd. Through the windows she could see the lights of the city sparkling below on the dark carpet of the night.
She had panicked briefly when she had found herself faced with the problem of coming up with an appropriate dress but Gracie Proud, Clementine's permanent partner, had come to the rescue. Gracie knew fashion almost as well as she knew the focus business. She had sent Zinnia to one of her favorite boutiques.
The long, elegantly simple slip of a dress that Zinnia had discovered in the shop was the color of rare fire crystal. She had stored the memory of the appreciative gleam that had appeared in Nick's eyes when he saw her in it away in her heart. In the years ahead she knew that she would take it out from time to time to cherish it.
"I read in the papers that your recent expansion has given you the platform you need to launch the new generation of Synlce software," she said. "Congratulations. You pulled it off."
"The media blitz is scheduled to start next month." Duncan's mouth tilted wryly. "I'm surprised you even noticed the news about Synlce. Your relationship with Chastain seems to occupy most of the front page these days."
She wrinkled her nose. "Only in the tabloids. And only because a certain Cedric Dexter has apparently decided to use Nick as a means of establishing a reputation as a sleazeoid photographer."
"Seems to be working. From what I can tell, Synsa-tion sales are skyrocketing."
"How would you know?"
Duncan grinned. "Are you kidding? I'm one of the first in line to get my copy every morning."
Zinnia blushed. "I'd like to strangle Dexter."
Duncan's smile faded. "It's serious, isn't it? This thing with Chastain?"
"Yes."
"I guess there's not much point in warning you off him again, is there?"
"No."
"Be careful, Zinnia."
"It may be too late for that, too." She smiled. "But don't worry about me, Duncan. I know what I'm doing."
"And you don't give a damn about the gossip." He shook his head slightly. "I should hire you into an executive position at SynIce. You've got more guts than all of my managers put together."
Nick stood in the shadows of a large potted fern-tree and sipped a glass of champagne while he watched Duncan and Zinnia finish their dance. He was brooding again. He couldn't help it. The sensation of wrongness was a whisper of dread that touched all of his senses this evening, including those that functioned on the metaphysical plane.
The confusing part was that he could no longer sort out the legitimate sensory input that his psychically honed instincts were picking up from the rush of tangled sensations that he felt toward Zinnia.
He wanted to protect her from Luttrell, but logic told him there was no cause for concern. After all, she had been seeing Luttrell off and on for a month and a half before he had even met her. If she had been interested in the president of Synlce, she would have done something about it earlier. If there was one thing Zinnia was good at, he reminded himself, it was taking action to achieve her goals.
So why did the sight of her in Luttrell's arms make every single one of his muscles tighten as if in response to a threat? He did not understand the matrix here. This emotional stuff clogged up his thinking processes.
"Good evening, Nicholas."
Only one person in the whole world called him Nicholas. Nick steeled himself and turned to see Orrin's wife, Ella, standing at his shoulder.
"Hello, Aunt Ella."
He knew the greeting would annoy her. Like her husband, Ella hated to be reminded that he had a blood-relationship with the family. She was a small too-thin woman whose once-lovely features had become sharp and tightly drawn over the years. Nick was almost certain that her pinched look was the result of a restless dissatisfaction that ate away constantly at her insides.
His investigations into Chastain family history had produced the information that thirty-five years ago Ella had hoped to marry Bartholomew Chastain. When Bartholomew had left for the Western Islands without showing any interest in either the marriage or his family's business, she had turned her attention to Orrin. Nick suspected that it was Ella's skillful maneuvering that had resulted in Orrin becoming CEO of Chastain, Inc. after Bartholomew disappeared.
Ella had got what she wanted, but as far as Nick could see, she had never been particularly happy about it.
"I was surprised when Orrin told me that you would be here tonight," Ella said crisply. "I hadn't realized that you had been accepted into the Founders' Club."
"I can understand your deep sense of shock." Nick swirled the champagne in his glass. "The decline in standards these days is appalling, isn't it?"
"I assume you intended that to be amusing."
"Not really."
Ella cast a disapproving look at Zinnia, who was still in the middle of the dance floor with Duncan. "If you plan to move in these circles you would do well to be a bit more discriminating in your choice of female companions. Miss Spring has a certain reputation."
Nick swung around so quickly that Ella gasped and took a hasty step back. He lowered his voice to the merest of whispers. "So do I. Among other things, I am known for not tolerating insults to women who have honored me with their company."
Ella blinked once and then recovered quickly. "Don't you dare threaten me, Nicholas."
"I assume you want something or you would not have gone out of your way to talk to me in front of all your socially acceptable friends."