Page 41 of Tightrope

“So?”

“It’s obvious now that Jones and Pell are after the Ares machine,” Lorraine said, striving for patience. “Logically they should have assumed that it vanished the night Pickwell was shot onstage. Yet not only is Jones still in town, he just checked into the very same inn that Pickwell checked into the day of the robot demonstration. What does that tell us?”

“Damned if I know.”

Lorraine stifled a sigh. Ray Thorpe had his uses but he was not the sharpest of tools.

“It tells us that he knows something that we don’t know and that he has a reason to believe he might find whatever he’s looking for at the Hidden Beach Inn,” she said.

“How did Jones and Pell find out about the Ares machine, let alone figure out that it would turn up in Burning Cove?” Ray demanded.

Lorraine blew out a lungful of smoke and flicked the ashes of her cigarette into a glass ashtray while she thought about that.

“Obviously the Broker double-crossed us,” she said. “We had a deal but evidently the bastard decided to turn what was supposed to be a straightforward sale into an auction. He must have concluded he could greatly increase his commission if he invited Luther Pell to bid. Pell brought in Jones.”

“I’ll take care of the Broker when this thing is over,” Ray vowed.

“Good luck with that. No one knows his real identity and no smart person goes looking for him. He’s dangerous and he’s very well protected. Forget him. We need to stay focused.”

Ray snorted. “What, exactly, are we supposed to focus on? We’ve got a cipher machine that’s missing some key parts, and the only man who knows where they are is dead.”

“Pickwell must have brought the missing parts to Burning Cove. That means they could still be in the vicinity. For now we keep an eye on Jones. Word is, he’s a freelance agent who is currently working for Pell. There’s only one reason he would have moved in to the Hidden Beach Inn—he’s got a lead. We’ll give him some room to run.”

“We can’t hang around Burning Cove indefinitely.”

Lorraine thought about the scheduled rendezvous at the L.A. docks. The clock was ticking. Her number one client would not be happy if she failed to deliver, and the client did not take failure well. If she did not come up with the complete cipher machine by the end of the week, she would be well advised to disappear.

It wouldn’t be the first time. A woman on her own had to be creative.

“You’re right,” she said. “We won’t be here indefinitely.”

Chapter 20

The night was cool but not cold. Matthias had decided to leave the top down on the Packard. The powerful convertible took the twists and turns of Cliff Road with the deceptive ease and precision of a big cat. Fog was coalescing out over the ocean but for now the moon was a silver disc in the night sky. And Amalie was in the seat beside him.

Too bad about the destination,he thought. Unfortunately they were not heading out for a night of cocktails, good food, dancing, and passion. That would have been Plan A. Instead they were going with Plan B—a visit to a sleazy nightclub during which they would attempt to interview a man who might have information that would lead to a cold-blooded killer.

He needed to rethink his priorities, Matthias decided.

“We’re probably wasting our time tonight, aren’t we?” Amalie said.

The question jolted him back to reality.

“We’ll know soon enough,” he said. “Pickwell was barely conscious when they loaded him into the ambulance. If he said anything at all, itwas most likely incoherent. But I need to make sure I’m not overlooking any lead.”

“Because you don’t have anything else to go on?”

“Because of that, yes.”

Everything about the woman sitting beside him was mysterious, sultry, and just a little dangerous. Allowing her to accompany him tonight had probably not been the best idea he’d ever had but damn if it didn’t feel good to have her here with him.

Excitement and anticipation were heating his blood. It took him a while to comprehend exactly what he was feeling, because he had not experienced such sensations in a very long time. He finally realized that he was thrilled.

He had been half-aroused ever since he had watched Amalie float down the inn stairs to meet him a short time ago. She was dressed in a sleek little cocktail number in a deep shade of blue. The short cap sleeves framed the nice curves of her upper arms. The dress fit her snugly to the waist, emphasizing her slender figure and delicate breasts. The skirt flared out gently just below the knees, calling attention to her slim ankles with every step.

He had caught a whisper of her scent when he helped her adjust the wrap around her shoulders. For a few seconds he had been dazzled. It was as if he had downed a full glass of some very potent drink, except that his senses were not at all dulled. They were fully, exultantly alive.

He really did wish that they were on their way to anywhere but the Carousel.

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