"Ah, therein lies the crux of the problem." Duncan shook his head. "Unfortunately, Bartholomew Chastain was alone when he discovered the tomb. He left the expedition camp early one morning to do some surveys. He was supposed to return by nightfall. But he didn't show up until late the following day."
"What happened?" Zinnia asked, desperate now, to keep Duncan talking.
"The team was organizing a search when Chastain walked back into camp with the story of the tomb." Duncan's jaw tightened. "But he refused to give anyone else the coordinates. He said he would turn the information over to the university officials and no one else. He claimed the discovery was too important to be left in the hands of any one man."
Nick's brows rose. "My father obviously had a few suspicions about Marsden Luttrell at that point."
"Apparently." Duncan shrugged. "Dad was furious because Chastain would not lead them back to the tomb or give him the coordinates. Dad had a real problem controlling his temper. There was a violent storm that night. Things were chaotic for a while. Dad, took advantage of the confusion to slip the poison into some portion of the food supply. They were all dead by the time breakfast was over the following morning."
Nick gazed at him with an unwavering stare. "In the process of covering his tracks, Luttrell also killed my mother."
"And a number of other people over the years," Duncan said, unconcerned. "It's surprisingly easy for a good chemist to kill, you know."
"But all the killing didn't do him any good," Nick said. "Because Bartholomew Chastain had encrypted the information that referred to the location of the tomb."
Duncan's eyes darkened with sudden rage again. "Not just the location of the tomb. The whole damned journal is in code."
"Typical matrix," Zinnia whispered.
"My father was a strong matrix," Duncan snarled. "But he was unable to break Chastain's code for thirty-five years because he was too paranoid to employ a trained prism to focus his talent. But I'm not going to make the same mistake."
"What do you mean?" Zinnia asked.
Duncan's eyes glittered feverishly. "I have my prism. A very special one who can work well for long hours with a powerful matrix-talent."
"I'm not going to help you," Zinnia said.
"Oh, but you will, my dear. Because if you don't I shall begin putting holes in Chastain. I shall start with his legs so that he won't be able to move. I expect the blood will soon excite the plants. It will be interesting to see what comes creeping out of the bushes to nibble on him."
Nick looked bored by the conversation.
"No." Zinnia leaped to her feet for the second time. "You can't do that."
"Chastain lives as long as you oblige me with a focus," Duncan said.
She looked into his friendly open face and saw the madness in his eyes. She knew that he had no intention of allowing Nick to live while she focused for him. For one thing, even a powerful matrix such as Duncan would find it impossible to do three things at once. He would not be able to maintain the psychic link for an extended period, unravel a complex code, and keep an eye on another very clever matrix at the same time.
It was easy to second-guess Duncan's real plan. He intended to try his hand at playing psychic vampire. As soon as she gave him a prism he would try to jump it and hold it captive.
And based on what her friend, Amaryllis, had told her about her own experiences with a real-life vampire named Irene Dunley, it was conceivable that Duncan could do just that if he was sufficiently powerful.
She recalled the way Nick had impulsively tried to seize the prism she had instinctively created for him that first night in the casino. His psychic strength had been almost overwhelming but she had not burned out as did most prisms when faced with an aggressive talent.
She had struggled and Nick had released her before they had engaged in a serious contest of psychic power. He had never again tried to force himself on her. But she shivered at the thought of what might happen if Duncan, who might well be as strong as Nick, made a similar attempt. The result would be a kind of mind rape that she could not bear to contemplate.
"At least I now know why you've been so friendly and considerate for the past month and a half, Duncan," Zinnia said. "How did you find out about me?"
"It was very simple. I made some discreet inquiries." Duncan smiled briefly. "I discovered that Psynergy, Inc. offered a very special prism service for matrix-talents. Naturally I didn't want to contract through the agency. But once I knew who you were, it was easy to strike up a relationship. Do you know, Zinnia, I had hoped we would be something more than friends."
"You mean, you hoped that I'd have an affair with you. You thought you'd be able to manipulate me more easily that way."
"It would definitely have made things less complicated," Duncan agreed. "But you kept me at a distance, even when I hinted that I might be open to the notion of a non-agency marriage. Then Chastain came along and charmed you straight into his bed."
"It wasn't quite that simple," Nick said.
Zinnia groaned. "Thanks."
"I still can't imagine what you see in such an encroaching upstart, Zinnia," Duncan said. "The man has no family, no class, and no taste. He actually thinks he can buy his way into respectable society. Last night I realized that you were enthralled with the bastard which meant he had total control over you."
"Not exactly." Nick looked fleetingly amused. "I doubt that anyone could ever control Zinnia."
Duncan scowled at him. "Not only did you possess the one prism in town who could help a strong matrix decode the journal, Chastain, you wouldn't give up the search for the book. In spite of your tacky nouveau-riche pretensions, you're a matrix and that means you can think logically. I'm sure you understand that my alternatives are extremely limited."
"They're limited, all right," Nick agreed.
"Stop it," Zinnia said fiercely. "I won't help, you decode the journal under any circumstances, Duncan."
Duncan said nothing. He merely smiled, took aim at a point just below Nick's belt, and started to squeeze the trigger.
"No," Zinnia shouted. She hurtled forward, putting herself between the two men.
Duncan relaxed his grip on the trigger. "Change your mind?"
Zinnia wanted to scream with rage and panic. "You bastard."
"Your lover is the bastard. I'm a respectable businessman." Duncan's face tightened. "Just give me a prism. This will end as soon as you focus for me."
"Liar."
"Do it, you damn stubborn bitch," Duncan roared.
She felt the sudden flicker of a psychic talent probe. There was a foul quality to it that made her recoil instinctively. She could not define the nature of the wrongness, but it was so strong that it seeped from the metaphysical plane to the physical plane. No wonder Duncan had hidden his talent from her.
"It's okay, Zinnia," Nick said softly. "Give him the focus. The same way you did for me that night in your apartment."
"But, Nick, he'll try to take control. What if he succeeds?"
Duncan laughed.
"Just do it, Zinnia," Nick said very quietly. "Exactly as you did it for me."
She stared at him helplessly while frantically trying to decipher the hidden message in his words. She had given Nick a strong clear focus that night. It was, he had told her later, the first time he had ever had such a perfect prism. And he had gotten a little drunk with the pleasure of his own power. She had a vivid memory of him staggering slightly as he attempted to regain his balance.
She stared at Nick with sudden comprehension. He wanted her to use the focus link to distract Duncan. If she could disorient and dazzle him with a brilliant prism for a few seconds, Nick might be able to take him.