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WESTCHESTER COUNTY, NY

"I'm fine, really," Romy said.Advertisement

She stood in an empty ladies' room speaking to Zero on the secure PCA he'd given her. It was clear after last night that she was under surveillance, so she'd picked a spot at random and wound up in a coffee shop not far from the federal district courthouse in White Plains. At this hour - 10:32A .M. - the dining area contained only a handful of late breakfasters, and the ladies' room was empty; she'd checked all the stalls before calling.

"You're sure? Absolutely sure?"

The concern in his voice touched her. "Absolutely. Those martial arts lessons you made me take came in handy."

"I never thought you'd be in physical danger, but I felt it best you be prepared for it."

"If nothing else, it's helped me keep my cool."

Relative cool, she thought. Her nerves were still jangled. She'd tried to rest at the motel - in her own room, much to Patrick's dismay - but sleep had remained steadfastly out of reach; so she'd compensated this morning by drinking too much coffee, which did nothing to settle her nerves.

She caught sight of herself in one of the mirrors. A little haggard looking, but not half bad for someone who'd ducked an attempt on her life just a few hours ago.

"But murder?" she said. "Somehow I don't see the brothers Sinclair sitting around and deciding to have us killed."

"That decision was reached elsewhere, I'm sure. By someone connected to the company but with his own best interests at heart."

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"Someone also connected to Manassas Ventures, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. Our investigation into that little company keeps coming up empty. It seems to exist in a vacuum. We've avoided direct inquiries, keeping everything back door because we don't want to let them know anyone's interested. But if nothing pans out soon we may have to arrange a little accident."

"Accident?"

He went on without elaborating. "In the meantime we want to keep you and Patrick alive and well. Connecting SimGen to the vans was a brilliant stroke. Your idea?"

"No. Patrick's."

"Clever fellow. The Beacon Ridge sims could do a lot worse."

"I'm beginning to see that." After last night, despite his tough talk, she'd half expected him to wake up this morning and run off with his tail tucked between his legs. But he was in court now, arguing motions. "What I don't see is how you managed to be down in that ravine with us."

"Iwasn't there."

"I don't mean you personally - the organization."

"We had a tail on Portero."

That startled her. "For how long?"

"Long enough to see him rent a couple of vans. After that, we kept an eye on the vans. When some mercenary types became attached to the vans, I suspected strong-arm tactics were in the works. Some of our people followed one van to that ravine and you-know-who intervened."

"I'm glad."

"So am I. I'd never forgive myself if..." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, the gloves are off, I'm afraid. The organization is going to mount its own surveillance on you and Patrick. The Beacon Ridge barrack as well."

Romy's stomach turned. "Oh, no. You don't think - "

"Anything is possible. And we must be prepared for it." pqdm.com