The darkened hallway was lined with office doors fitted with opaque glass. Gabe could hear the din of muffled voices in the distance. The noise came from the large reception room in the intersecting corridor. The Leaders of Tomorrow open-house event was in full swing.
Lillian stood beside him in the shadows. Her hair was pinned into a sleek, graceful knot at the back of her head. She wore a close-fitting, midnight-blue dress made out of a stretchy, slinky fabric that moved when she did and a pair of sexy, strappy heels.
He could think of a couple of other things he would rather do with her tonight than hunt for frozen space aliens. But duty called.
He checked the bulky camera Arizona had given him. “We’re all set.”
“I still say this is a really bad idea,” Lillian muttered. “What if we get caught prowling through the new wing?”
“If anyone stops us, which is highly unlikely given that they’re all very busy with the reception, we’ll say we were curious about the new construction. Big deal. You really think anyone would arrest a Harte and a Madison who just happened to wander into the wrong hallway here at the institute?”
“You never know.”
“It’s a lot more likely they’d ask us for a contribution. Stop worrying. You’re a little tense tonight.”
“I’ve had a very difficult week and now I’m getting ready to look for frozen aliens. I’ve got a right to be tense. I’m supposed to be devoting myself to art, remember?”
“Take it easy,” he said. “Think of this as performance art.”
“Yeah, right. Performance art.”
“We’ll get in, take a few shots of empty offices and get out. Tomorrow we’ll turn the pictures over to A.Z. and she can weave whatever conspiracy theories she wants. That will be the end of it for us.”
“How do we explain the camera if we’re stopped by a guard?”
“No problem,” Gabe said. “We’ll say we wanted some souvenir photos of the reception.”
“It’s a high-tech spy camera, for heaven’s sake. No one’s going to buy that story.”
“Trust me. I can fake it if necessary.”
“All right,” she said with annoyance. “Let’s get it over with and get back to the open house.”
She started off down the hall toward the new wing with long, determined strides. He fell into step beside her, marveling at how well she could move in the sexy shoes. Together they prowled deeper into the bowels of the institute. The sounds of the open house faded into the distance behind them.
At the far end of the dark passage a temporary door fashioned out of plywood had been installed to separate the uncompleted wing from the main building. A band of loosely draped construction zone tape barred the way. Gabe ducked under the tape and found the partition unlocked.
“We’re in luck.” He eased the plywood door open and stood aside to allow Lillian to enter. “Ready to boldly go where no Harte or Madison has gone before?”
She moved into the unpainted hall and stopped.
“Shouldn’t you start taking pictures?” she said in a low voice.
“Right.”
He walked to the nearest door and opened it. There was enough light filtering through the window from the parking lot lamps to reveal the bones of an empty room that was clearly intended to serve as an office.
“No frozen aliens in here,” he announced.
“Big surprise.” She leaned around the edge of the door. “Hurry up and take a picture. We’ve got a whole bunch of rooms to cover.”
He raised the heavy VPX 4000 and snapped off a shot. The flash flared, brilliantly illuminating the small space for an instant. Darkness closed in again almost immediately.
“Great,” Lillian said. “Now I can’t see a thing.”
“This thing really puts out some wattage, doesn’t it?” He blinked a few times to get rid of the dark spots. “Next time close your eyes when I take the picture.”
He went to the door across the hall, opened it, and took another picture of an empty, partially painted interior. When he finished, he moved to the next door and repeated the procedure.
After a while, it became routine. Open a door, take a photo of a bare office, close the door. Go to the next room.
“I don’t think A.Z. is going to be real thrilled with these pictures,” Lillian said halfway down the hall. “She has her heart set on finding proof that the government has secretly moved frozen extraterrestrials here to Eclipse Bay.”
“Don’t worry about A.Z. She’s a professional conspiracy buff, remember? A pro can always find a way to spin the facts into a new theory.”
He opened the next door in line, raised the VPX 4000 and fired off a shot.
A woman yelled at the same instant the flash exploded. Not Lillian, he realized. Someone else. This room was inhabited. Not frozen aliens. Warm bodies.
Two figures were illuminated in the intense light. A man with a serious erection dressed in a pair of red bikini briefs and a woman in a black leather bustier and high-heeled black boots.
J. Anderson Flint and Marilyn Thornley.
“Holy cow,” Gabe said. “A.Z. was right. But it’s worse than she thought. Wait’ll she hears that they’ve thawed out two of the frozen alien life-forms.”
For two or three seconds everyone stared at everyone else. Marilyn, demonstrating the well-honed instincts of a natural-born politician, recovered first.
“Give me that camera,” she shouted.
“Sorry, it’s not mine to give away.” Gabe took a quick step back toward the door. “Private property, you know. A bulwark of our constitutional republic. Wouldn’t be right.”
“I said give me that damned camera.” Marilyn lunged toward him.
“Give her the stupid camera, for heaven’s sake,” Lillian said.
She grabbed the heavy VPX 4000 out of his hand and hurled it toward Marilyn the way you’d hurl garlic and a silver cross at a vampire.
“Let’s get out of here.” She seized his arm and hauled him out of the doorway. “Right now.”
She broke into a run. Gabe had to stretch a little to keep up with her. He admired her form as they went down the corridor.
“I didn’t know a woman could move that fast in high heels,” he said.
By the time they reached the main building he was laughing so hard he accidentally went through the construction zone tape, severing it. The ends fluttered to the floor.
“A.Z. was right,” he managed to get out between howls. “Strange things going on in the new wing.”
Lillian stopped and turned to look at him. She was breathing hard from her recent exertion. She watched him for a long moment, a strange expression on her face. You’d think she’d never seen a man doubled up with laughter, he thought.
“I’d give anything for a picture of you right now.” She stepped forward and brushed her mouth lightly against his. “And to think that I once thought you were a walking case of burnout.”
The following morning Lillian was still trying to figure out how to deliver the bad news to Arizona. She stood at the kitchen counter in Gabe’s house watching him slather peanut butter onto two slices of toasted Incandescent Body sourdough bread, and went through the possibilities.
“We could say we lost her VPX 4000,” she said. “Or maybe imply that it was stolen out of the car.”
Gabe did not look up from his task. “Could tell her the truth.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No one, not even A.Z., would believe it.”
“You’ve got a point.” Gabe put the peanut butter toast on a plate. “Some things defy description.”
“Some things are also actionable. The last thing we need is a lawsuit from Marilyn’s campaign.” Lillian poured coffee. “We have to come up with a reasonable story or A.Z. will invent another new conspiracy theory to explain a second missing camera.”
Gabe picked up a slice of peanut butter toast and took a bite. “You have to admit that it’s pushing coincidence a bit.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Think about it. Two missing spy cameras. One stolen by force. One confiscated by a politician in a black leather bustier. Both cameras belong to a woman dedicated to uncovering the truth about a clandestine government project housed at the Eclipse Bay Policy Studies Institute. I mean, what are the odds?”
“You find this all very entertaining, don’t you?”
He grinned and took a swallow of coffee. “Most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
“Great. Wonderful. I’m glad you’re amused. But what the heck are we going to tell A.Z.?”
“Leave it to me. I’ll handle it. I think I’ll go with the truth. By the time A.Z. gets through twisting it, no one will recognize it, anyway.”
Lillian took a bite of toast. She chewed on it for a while and then swallowed.
“Something I’ve been meaning to ask,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Did Marilyn wear black leather bustiers a lot when the two of you were an item?”
“It’s been a long time,” Gabe said. “My memory isn’t so good when it comes to some things. But I’m pretty sure the black leather gear is new. Probably a political fashion statement.”
“Probably.” She looked at the unfinished portion of her toast. “You’re good with peanut butter, you know that?”
“It’s a gift.”
“Marilyn Thornley confiscated the camera?” Arizona slapped a big hand, palm down, fingers spread, on the laminated map that decorated the table of her war room. “Damn. I was afraid of this. She’s either working with them or she’s one of their dupes.”
Lillian suppressed a groan. This was not going well. The good news was that Arizona appeared to be back to her old self. She still wore a small bandage but there was no sign of any other physical problems resulting from the blow to her head.
“Personally,” Gabe said, “I’d vote for the dupe possibility. I can’t see Marilyn getting involved in a conspiracy to cover up dead space aliens and high-tech UFO secrets. She’s too busy working on the launch of her campaign.”
Arizona squinted a little while she considered that angle. “Guess you know her better than anyone else around here does.”
“Guess so,” Lillian agreed brightly.
“I doubt that she has changed much,” Gabe said deliberately. “She’s devoted to one cause and that cause is Marilyn Thornley.”
“She’s been involved in politics for the last few years, though,” A.Z. mused. “Makes for strange bedfellows.”
A vision of Anderson in his red bikini briefs flared briefly in Lillian’s mind. “You can say that again.”
“We’ll replace the camera, A.Z.,” Gabe said. “In the meantime, you have our full report. The bottom line is that there was no sign of heavy-duty lab equipment in the new wing and we found no evidence of frozen extraterrestrials. If those alien bodies were moved into the institute, they’ve got them well hidden.”
“Figures.” Arizona nodded sagely. “Should have known it wouldn’t be this easy. We’ll just have to keep digging. Maybe literally, if they’ve hidden the lab underground.”
“A scary thought,” Lillian murmured.
“My work will continue,” Arizona assured them. “Meanwhile, thanks for the undercover job. Couldn’t have done it without you. Unfortunately, you’ll never get the public recognition you deserve because we have to maintain secrecy.”
“We understand,” Gabe said.
Arizona nodded. “But I want you to know that your names will be legend among the ranks of those of us who seek the truth about this vast conspiracy.”
“That’s certainly good enough for me,” Lillian said quickly. “How about you, Gabe?”
“Always wanted to be a legend in my own time,” Gabe said.
“We don’t want any public recognition,” Lillian added, eager to emphasize the point. “Just knowing that we did our patriotic duty is all the reward we need. Isn’t that right, Gabe?”
“Right,” Gabe got to his feet. “Publicity would be a disaster. If our identities as secret agents were exposed, it would ruin any chance of us helping you out with future undercover work.”
Lillian was almost to the door. “Wouldn’t want that.”
“True,” Arizona said. “Never know when we might have to call on you two again.”
She knew that something was bothering Gabe. The amusement that had carried him through last night’s investigation and this morning’s debriefing with Arizona had vanished. When she had called him to suggest a walk on the beach a short while ago, he had agreed, but she could tell that his thoughts were elsewhere.
He had met her at the top of the beach path. She had noticed immediately that the cool, remote quality was back. At least she had finally figured out that the withdrawn air did not automatically indicate major depression or burnout. It meant that he was doing some heavy-duty thinking.
At last. Progress in the quest to understand the deeper elements of Gabriel Madison’s enigmatic nature.
He moved easily beside her, his jacket collar pulled up around his neck, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. She recognized this brooding mood, she suddenly realized. She had experienced it often enough herself. It came upon her at times when she was struggling to find the key to the inner vision of a picture. She wondered why she had never understood the similarity before.
She did not try to draw him out of whatever distant space he was exploring. Instead she contented herself with setting an energetic pace for both of them. The tide was out, exposing small, rocky pools. She picked a route through the driftwood and assorted debris that had been deposited by the last storm.
Gabe did not speak until they had almost reached Eclipse Arch, the rock monolith that dominated the beach.
“How well do you know Flint?” he asked without any preamble.
The question took her by surprise.
“Anderson?” She came to a halt. “Not well at all. He moved into the same office building in Portland about six months ago. Like I said, we had some conversations of a professional nature. That’s about it.”
“You told me that he wanted to buy your matchmaking program.”
She shrugged. “And I explained to him that it wasn’t for sale.”
“Maybe he figured he could get it another way,” Gabe said.
“What other way is there?” Then it hit her. “Good grief. You don’t really think Anderson would try to… to steal it, do you? But-”
“I checked with the college public affairs office this morning. There is no conference of any kind scheduled at Chamberlain this week or next. Flint lied when he said that he was in town to attend a professional seminar.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yes.”
She started walking again, mulling over the possibilities. “Okay, maybe he made up the story about being here for a conference. I can see where he might have followed me to try to talk me into selling him the program. But it’s hard to envision him actually breaking into my apartment and the cottage.”
“Why? You’ve got something he wants. You refused to sell it to him. In his mind that might not leave a lot of options.”
“Yes, but-” She trailed off, trying to sort out the logic. “Anderson is a sex therapist, for heaven’s sake.”
“He hasn’t been one for long.”
That stopped her in her tracks. “I beg your pardon?”
“After I called Chamberlain, I talked to some people I know in Portland and went online for some research. The institution that issued Flint’s professional credentials is a mail-order outfit.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a paper mill. You pay them money, they give you a fancy piece of paper.”
“In other words, his credentials are bogus?”
“Let’s just say that his alma mater is not real rigorous when it comes to academic standards.”
She thought about the women she had seen in Anderson’s waiting room. A shudder went through her. “Talk about a lawsuit waiting to happen. And I thought I was on dangerous ground.”
“Funny you should mention the wordlawsuit.”
“Why?”
“Turns out that Flint reinvented himself as a sex therapist after he got into legal troubles in his former profession.”
She groaned. “I’m afraid to ask but I can’t help myself. What did he do before he went into the field of sex therapy?”
“He headed up a consortium that invested heavily in some Internet ventures that disappeared into thin air.”
“Are you telling me Anderson is a complete fraud?”
“No. From what I could learn this morning, it appears that no one has as yet managed to prove that. Flint appears to have a talent for staying inside the gray area between legal and illegal activities. But a guy like that might not have any qualms about trying to steal a computer program.”
“Great.” She took her hands out of her pockets and spread them wide. “What are we supposed to do now?”
“I think,” Gabe said, “that we should have a conversation with J. Anderson Flint.”
The motel was typical of many that dotted the winding coast road that led to and from Eclipse Bay, a little down at the heels and mostly empty at this time of year. The rooms all opened directly onto the outside sidewalk. There were three cars parked in front of three doors. Two of the vehicles were mud-splattered SUVs. The third was a sparkling-clean late-model Lincoln.
Gabe brought the Jag to a halt at the far end of the parking lot and studied the blue Lincoln.
“What do you want to bet that’s his car?”
Lillian followed his gaze. Tension angled her shoulders.
“If you’re wrong, this could be a little hard to explain,” she said.
“I told you to let me handle this on my own.”
“I can’t do that and you know it. Anderson is my problem.”
“Correction.” He cracked open the door and got out. “He’sour problem.”
He closed the door before she could argue.
She emerged from the Jag without another word. Together they walked to Number Seven.
Gabe knocked twice. Anderson opened the door immediately. He wore gray trousers and a blue sweater that matched his car and his eyes. He did not look at all surprised to see them standing outside his room.
“I wondered when you two would get here,” he said.
Lillian looked at him unhappily. “We came to talk to you, Anderson.”
“Obviously.” Flint held the door open. “You might as well come inside. I trust this won’t take long. I’ve got a meeting with Marilyn in an hour.”
Lillian entered the room warily. “A meeting?”
“I’m going to be taking over as her campaign manager.”
“I don’t understand.” Lillian hesitated for a moment. “You’re taking Claire’s place?”
“Marilyn made her decision last night,” Anderson said.
“Is that what she was doing?” Gabe moved into the small room. “Selecting a new campaign manager? I wondered.”
“Save your pathetic little jokes for someone else.” Raw anger sharpened the lines of Anderson’s face. He closed the door with sudden force. “I don’t have time for your crude humor.”
“Congratulations, Anderson,” Lillian said quietly. “I didn’t know you were interested in politics.”
“I wasn’t until I met Marilyn.” An odd light appeared in his eyes. “It’s obvious that she needs me.”
He means it, Gabe thought. What the hell was going on here?
Lillian watched Anderson closely. “Why do you say Marilyn needs you?”
“She’s a brilliant candidate but it’s clear from the way she fired Claire Jensen on impulse that she lacks maturity and experience. I can bring those strengths to her campaign.”
“I see,” Lillian said.
Gabe leaned against the closed door and folded his arms. He took stock of the room. From the thin bedspread to the faded flower-print curtains, it fit in with the rest of the establishment. A bit on the seedy side. He had a hunch it was not a J. Anderson Flint kind of place. But, then, Flint hadn’t had a lot of choice when it came to accommodations here on the coast. Too bad Dreamscape wasn’t up and running. Hannah and Rafe could have made some money off him.
“If you’re going to join Marilyn’s campaign, can we assume that you’ll be giving up your practice in Portland?” Lillian asked.
“Yes, of course.” Anderson sounded impatient.
“What about your clients?” Lillian said. “Are you just going to abandon them?”
“There are other sex therapists. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
“Probably no worse off, at any rate,” Gabe said.
Anderson scowled. “There are priorities here. The transition to a new campaign manger has to be made without delay. Any loss of momentum at this juncture could be disastrous for Marilyn.”
“Sure,” Gabe said. “Gotta have a seamless transition. I understand that. Hell of a sacrifice on your part, though.”
“Marilyn’s candidacy is far more important than my personal business affairs.”
“If you say so.”
“She has a great deal to give to this country.” Anderson’s rich voice was laced with what sounded like genuine fervor. “I can help her achieve her full potential.”
“Your patriotic duty to get her elected, is that it?” Gabe asked.
Anderson’s expression tightened. “I don’t have time for this. There’s no point expecting you to comprehend what’s at stake here. Let’s get down to business.”
Lillian cleared her throat. “We didn’t actually come here to talk about business.”
Anderson made a disgusted sound at the back of his throat. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know why you’re here. You came to bargain for access.”
Lillian looked baffled. “Access to what?”
“To Marilyn, of course.” Anderson did not look at her. He kept his attention on Gabe. “We all know that when she’s elected, she’ll have a great deal of power. You want me to guarantee that you’ll have access to her, isn’t that right, Madison? A man in your position likes to have friends in high places.”
Lillian stared. “You don’t understand.”
“Of course I do.” Anderson flicked a quick glance at her. “What’s the matter, didn’t Madison tell you how he intended to use those pictures?”
“But we don’t have any photos,” Lillian said. “Marilyn took the camera, remember?”
“Don’t give me that crap. I know you had two cameras last night.”
“Why do you say that?” Gabe asked.
“You were too quick to turn the first one over to Marilyn when she demanded it.” Flint moved his hand in a small arc. “There’s only one reason why you would do that. You knew you had backup.”
“That’s not true.” Lillian was indignant.
“The double-camera routine is as old as the hills.” Anderson cut off her protest with a patently bored look. “It buys the photographer some time to escape an unpleasant confrontation. The victim thinks she’s confiscated the incriminating film and doesn’t realize until too late that there is another set of photos.”
“You sound familiar with the technique,” Gabe said.
“I didn’t tell Marilyn because I knew it would upset her. Now that I’m her manager, it’s my job to handle this type of incident. I certainly don’t intend to allow her to be destroyed by the same type of cheap blackmail that ruined her husband’s campaign.”
“How dare you imply that we would do something like that?” Lillian was furious now. “We didn’t come here to blackmail Marilyn.”
Anderson paid no attention to her. “Just tell me what you want, Madison, and I’ll see to it that you get it, provided that you destroy those photos.”
“What we want,” Gabe said evenly, “are some answers.”
Anderson’s brows came together in a puzzled scowl. “Answers to what?”
“Did you break into Lillian’s apartment in Portland?”
For an instant Anderson appeared frozen in place. Then he came up out of the chair. He was practically vibrating with outrage.
“Are you out of your mind?” he hissed. “Why would I do such a thing?”
“To look for her computer program,” Gabe said. “You can save the act. It’s good but it’s not that good.”
“I did not break into her apartment.” Each word was pronounced with unnatural precision.
“And what about her cottage here in Eclipse Bay?” Gabe said. “I assume that was you, too, but I’ll admit that incident is a little confusing because of the assault on Arizona Snow.”
“I don’t even know anyone named Arizona Snow,” Anderson gritted.
“Maybe that was an unrelated event, after all,” Lillian said to Gabe.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t get past the coincidence thing.”
“Coincidences happen,” she pointed out.
Anderson swung around to face her. “Stop it. Both of you. You can’t make false accusations like this. You can’t prove a damn thing.”
“You’re right about not being able to prove anything,” Gabe said.
Anderson settled himself, relieved. “I knew it.”
“That’s why we came here instead of going to the cops. Of course, if you’d rather we went to Marilyn, we can do that. She might be interested to hear about your legal problems back in the days when you were selling online investments.”
Shock flashed on Anderson’s face. “Marilyn would never listen to you.”
“Don’t bank on it,” Lillian responded. “She and Gabe have a history. They go back a long way, I think Marilyn would listen to him if he told her that he didn’t believe that you were a good choice for campaign manager.”
“You can’t do that,” Anderson stammered. “You have no right. Nothing was ever proven.”
“All we want is confirmation that you went through Lillian’s things looking for her matchmaking program,” Gabe demanded.
Anderson abruptly turned away toward the window. He gazed bleakly out at the motel parking lot.
“I did not break into Lillian’s apartment or the cottage,” he said eventually, again enunciating each word with care.
“Let’s not quibble over the details.” Gabe watched him closely. “Maybe you didn’tbreak into her apartment. Maybe you let yourself inside with keys that you either duplicated from her key ring or conned out of the housekeeping staff or the manager.”
Lillian flashed him a startled look. Her mouth opened but she closed it quickly without saying a word.
“The cottage was a problem,” Gabe went on, “because you didn’t have a key so you had to pry open the door. The second time you smashed a window. By then you had heard about our theory that Lillian was being stalked. Word of that kind of thing gets around fast in a small town. You trashed her studio hoping to keep us looking in that direction. You didn’t want us thinking there might be another motive for the break-ins.”
“I am not a stalker.”
“I didn’t say you were,” Gabe said. “But I think it’s pretty clear that Marilyn can’t afford to be connected to a campaign manager who goes around imitating stalkers. Or one who breaks into apartments and cottages, for that matter. Bad for the image, you know.”
“It’s a lie. I didn’t trash Lillian’s studio. You can’t do this to me.”
“All we want is the truth,” Gabe said.
“Damn it, I won’t let you ruin this for me.”
Without warning, Anderson spun away from the window and flung himself at Gabe.
“Anderson, no,” Lillian called. “Stop. This won’t solve anything.”
But Anderson was beyond reason. Gabe managed to sidestep the initial charge but Anderson wheeled with startling speed and came at him again. This time Gabe found himself trapped in the corner, the television set on one side, a lamp on the other.
He took the only way out, going low to duck Anderson’s swinging fist. Anderson’s hand struck the wall where Gabe had been standing a second earlier. A shuddering jolt went through him. Gabe heard him suck in an anguished breath.
He caught Anderson by the legs and shoved hard. The momentum toppled both of them to the rug. They went down with a stunning thud, Anderson on the bottom. He struggled wildly, fighting back with a reckless fury, completely out of control. He hammered the floor with his heels and managed to slam a fist into Gabe’s ribs. He twisted violently, trying to lurch free.
Gabe finally pinned him to the rug, using his weight to force him to lie still.
Trapped, Anderson stared up at him. Gabe felt him go limp as the hurricane of violence dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared.
“I don’t want her hurt, do you understand?” Anderson’s voice was ragged. “I’ll do whatever you want-just don’t hurt her.”
“Listen to me, Anderson, no one wants to hurt Marilyn. We just want the truth.” Gabe tightened his hands on Anderson’s shoulders. “Tell me about the break-ins.”
“All right. Okay. I did go into Lillian’s apartment. But I didn’t break in, damn it. I went in with the cleaning people.”
“It was that easy?”
Anderson nodded. “It was that easy. Just told them I was there to check out some electrical problems. People trust you when you wear a uniform with your name on it.”
Lillian moved closer. Gabe sensed the shock that gripped her. He caught a glimpse of her hands. They were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. But her voice was surprisingly steady.
“Did you want the matchmaking program that badly, Anderson?” she asked. “I told you, it wasn’t magic. Just a standard personality inventory analysis program that I used together with a dose of common sense.”
Anderson looked up at her. “It wasn’t the damned matchmaking program I wanted, you little fool. It was the data on your clients.”
“Myclients.”
“Don’t you get it?” He made a disgusted sound. “Hell, you really don’t know what you’ve got, do you? Don’t you have any concept of what that client database is worth? You’ve got detailed background information on some of the wealthiest, most successful, most powerful people in the city. Hell, in the whole damn state.”
“But what would you do with it?”
“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend, here. I’m sure he understands what that kind of information is worth these days.”
“A fortune.” Gabe released Anderson and got to his feet. “Good client data is one of the most valuable commodities on the market today. Businesses, investors, politicians, charitable organizations, you name it, they all want it. They’ll all pay big bucks for solid background on people who have a lot of money to spend.”
Lillian looked at Anderson. “You never were interested in collaborating on a book, were you? You were after my client roster all along. Who did you plan to sell my files to?”
He sat up slowly, wincing. “I hadn’t finalized my list of prospects. I was still working on it when you announced that you intended to close down Private Arrangements. When I realized you were serious, my first thought was to salvage the data. I offered to buy your program, thinking I’d get the client list with it. But you refused to sell.”
“So you tried to steal it.”
“I didn’t intend to steal the damned files.” Anderson actually looked offended. “I just wanted to take a copy for myself.”
“You don’t call that theft?” Lillian asked.
His jaw clenched. “It wasn’t like you had any use for that data.”
“When you didn’t find her files in Portland, you followed her here to Eclipse Bay,” Gabe said. “That night in the restaurant you encountered the perfect prospect for the client info. Marilyn Thornley. A politician badly in need of a rich donor list.”
Some of the fierceness returned briefly to Anderson’s expression. “She needs those names and the background on those people.”
Lillian opened her mouth. Gabe didn’t know what she planned to say but quite suddenly he had had enough. He shook his head once. She got the message and remained silent.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
She glanced once more at Anderson and then walked to the door.
“Just a minute.” Anderson gripped the edge of the television set to steady himself. “What are you going to do? You can’t involve Marilyn in this. She had nothing to do with it.”
“Don’t worry, Flint.” Gabe opened the door. “We’re not going to do a damn thing. I told you, all we wanted was the truth. It stops here, provided you leave Lillian alone. But if you make another move to get her computer, I’ll take the story straight to the cops and to the press.”
Anderson looked horrified. “Marilyn’s campaign couldn’t survive that kind of scandal at this stage. Things are too delicate.”
“I know,” Gabe said. “You have my word that if you leave Lillian alone, this won’t go any further.”
“I swear I won’t bother her again.” Anderson sounded frantic. “I promise.”
“It’s a deal,” Gabe said.
He ushered Lillian through the door and out onto the sidewalk. A chill, damp wind was blowing bits of litter around the parking lot.
“Lillian, wait.” Anderson came to stand in the doorway. “If you change your mind, my offer to buy those client files is still good.”
“Forget it, Anderson. The files are gone.”
“I don’t believe you destroyed them. They’re too valuable. Think about my offer. You’ve got in-depth information on guys like Tom Lydd of Lydd-Zone Software and Madison, here. That data is worth a lot of money.”
“I don’t know about the Lydd information,” Lillian said quietly. “But the data on Gabe certainly wouldn’t do anyone any good.”
Anderson scowled. “What the hell do you mean?”
“Most of it is false,” Lillian explained. “He lied through his teeth on the questionnaire that he filled out for Private Arrangements.”