Once a Thief

by Kay Hooper

  Morgan answered promptly and concisely, having to refer to her clipboard of notes only occasionally. Her own curiosity showed when she said, “Clue me in, will you? I know all this security hardware is already hooked up and that it can be turned on with the flick of a few switches. I also know that everything is connected to the equipment in the computer room and the security room. So—your job is to put together a program to run everything?”

  Storm nodded. “Right. For instance, a motion-detector alarm is great, but since there are dozens of them, security could waste valuable time—without a monitoring system—while they tried to determine which one had been tripped. And if we don’t know, very specifically, which security key card is used to turn off corridor alarms, then one could probably be counterfeited to give an outsider access without alerting security. What I have to do is set up the system so that every piece of hardware works in conjunction with all the other parts and allows security personnel to monitor exactly what’s going on.

  “I also have to make every alarm location-specific, which means assigning every individual piece of security a number to mark its position. The system has to be set up so that it’s so tightly interconnected there’ll be no way a thief can disable one part without disturbing two or three other parts and setting off alarms; it also has to be virtually impossible for anyone to disable the whole system. And the closer he gets to anything of value, the tougher the system has to be.”

  Morgan whistled softly. “That’s a lot of variables to take into account.”

  “Tell me about it. About three years ago, I really screwed up a system. Believe it or not, I forgot to take into account the cleaning crew. They had their own security cards, just like the guards, but they naturally had to dust and polish the display cases, which were highly touch-sensitive. This was in a huge jewelry store, by the way. The system went on line just perfectly—and a bare hour after closing, alarms were going off like you wouldn’t believe. It took me two days to calm everyone down and another two to incorporate that variable into the system.”

  Morgan grinned. “Our crew does the floors during hours, a section at a time, and comes in twice a week after closing for the rest. You are aware of that, I hope?”

  “Definitely aware. And it’s a pain to deal with. Actually, to limit risk, I’ll have to set up the system so that the observing guard—who will have to be present in the room at all times—punches in a coded request at the control panel.” She nodded toward the doorway of the room they were currently in, where what looked like a simple keypad was designed to be hidden inconspicuously behind a bit of molding. It was visible now, like all the control panels in the wing.

  Fascinated, Morgan asked, “Then what?”

  “Then the computer program will make several changes. Pressure plates, as well as the pressure-sensitivity of the glass in the display cases, will be temporarily deactivated; laser and infrared motion detectors will switch to just monitor all activity rather than sound alarms—and that monitoring will be so precise, we’ll have a computer printout of every movement anyone in that room makes; and the internal alarms of the cases will be intensified so that the slightest touch of the contents will trigger the alarms. And, of course, all that will be observed visually by security personnel watching monitors in the security room.”

  Morgan frowned slightly. “For the Mysteries Past exhibit, we have brand-new, state-of-the-art alarm systems installed in this wing, but the rest of the museum isn’t so up-to-date. Since your security system is for the entire building, you’ll have to make this thing come together even with a jigsaw puzzle of different parts?”

  “Yep.”

  “In less than two weeks?”

  Solemnly, Storm said, “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

  “It sounds like you earn every penny.” Morgan shook her head slightly.

  “I do—but don’t run away with the idea that what I do is impossible. I’ve had tougher assignments, believe me.”

  “If you say so.” Glancing at her watch, the brunette added, “Damn, I’ve got to get on the phone and track down a decent gemologist.”

  “I thought the collection would stay in the vaults until just before the exhibit opens,” Storm said in an idle voice.

  Morgan nodded. “That’s the plan, but I still need a gemologist fairly soon. Since the collection’s been in storage for thirty years, it’s going to need to be examined, all the pieces cleaned and readied for display. Plus, Wolfe says that Lloyd’s wants a new appraisal prior to the exhibit opening. Which means I either have to find an extremely talented gemologist able to provide an appraisal and get the collection ready for display, or else find two different people with specialties.”

  “That makes sense. Well, good luck.”

  “Thanks. If you need any more information about the exhibit or whatever, I’ll be in my office.” Morgan hesitated, then said in an innocent tone, “The best person to take you over the rest of the museum’s security is, of course, Wolfe. Even though it isn’t really his responsibility, he made it his business to know everything about the current system. So he knows more than anyone else here, I expect.”

  Storm was well aware of that. Maintaining her calm, she said, “So I’ve heard. If you see him on the way back to your office, do you mind telling him I could use his help? I’ll be on this level, North wing—with the paintings.”

  “My pleasure. Oh, and be sure to check out that big painting in the smaller gallery, will you? It’s near the door.”

  “Check it out? Why?”

  “You’ll understand when you see it.”

  Storm was left somewhat puzzled, but when she made her way through the second floor into the North wing (the Mysteries Past exhibit was to be housed in the West wing), it didn’t take her long to find the painting in question. And it was immediately apparent to her that Morgan’s sense of humor was showing.

  For something that had been painted hundreds of years earlier, it was curiously apt. Beneath violently stormy skies, dark clouds split open by a bolt of lightning, a lean gray wolf hunted on the edge of a forest. The animal had his back to the lightning and so couldn’t have known he was about to be struck.

  Storm was standing in one of the galleries marking the placement of video cameras on the corresponding floor plan she had on her clipboard when she sensed more than heard someone come up behind her. Despite the fact that several visitors to the museum had wandered by her in the last minutes, she knew it was Wolfe and spoke to him without turning around.

  “I hear Ace lost an employee yesterday.”

  “Yeah. Security can be dangerous work. Especially if you’re vulnerable to blackmail.”

  “Good thing I’m not,” Storm said, then went on calmly, “With the new software in place, the gaps in all this old hardware are really going to show. They need more than video cameras and a few laser grids.”

  “I know,” he said without expression. “But it would cost a fortune for the museum to upgrade and remodel, and it’d take at least a year to do it. They can’t afford it, at least not now. Maybe if Mysteries Past brings in enough revenue, they’ll be able to swing it in the next year or two. In the meantime, if Max hadn’t donated the new computer system, you’d be working with ten-year-old machines, so be grateful for small favors.”

  Despite his calm voice, she was completely aware that he was more than a little tense; she could feel it. That was encouraging to the reckless part of her but a warning sign to her sensible and cautious side.

  Storm studied the wall nearest her, ignoring the paintings because she was looking for something else. To Wolfe, she said, “The grids are activated after hours, true?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So whenever the guards have to traverse a corridor, they use key cards to shut the grid off until they pass through.”

  “Right.”

  She made several notations on the floor plan for the room, then turned and went back to the doorway, where she stood eyeing the gallery thoughtfully. She s
till didn’t look at Wolfe, even though she could feel his gaze on her, and she kept her voice tranquil when she spoke. “Every laser port is so visible they might as well have hung up signs.”

  “I know that.”

  Storm’s keen ears caught the slight change in his deep voice. Good—she was beginning to annoy him with her businesslike attitude. Fixing him with a bland stare, she said, “If I’m going to get the new system written and on line as quickly as possible, I need to go over the security hardware throughout the building. Morgan took me through the West wing; you seem to be the accepted expert on the rest. If you have the time, I’d like to get it done today.”

  He could hardly refuse, and they both knew it. So he merely nodded, said, “Tell me what you need to know,” and followed her from the gallery.

  For the next three hours, Storm kept their pace brisk enough to try the stamina of a marathon runner. It was a very big building, and if she didn’t examine every inch she certainly went over it foot by foot. She wasted no words, asking brief questions and not encouraging anything but terse replies in return.

  Her cool, businesslike attitude was steadily feeding Wolfe’s temper, and nobody had to tell him how irrational that was.

  Dammit, he couldn’t even yell at her to relieve some of the pressure. She wasn’t goading him, for one thing, and besides, how could a man yell at a little blonde woman with a little blond cat on her shoulder?

  It was nearly five o’clock, and since most of the visitors seemed to have left the museum, they were alone by the time they had reached the final area to be covered. It was the South wing, first floor, where the museum’s existing gem collection was housed, and no one else was anywhere to be seen. This area was only a bit better protected than the rest, boasting display cases that were, Storm said briefly, “Slightly younger than God.”

  It wasn’t the first disparaging comment she’d made during the afternoon, but it was the first in more than an hour, and it gave Wolfe an opportunity to vent some of the pressure building up inside him.

  “Don’t be so condescending,” he snapped, relieved to have something to get mad about.

  Storm rounded on him as if she’d been waiting for the same opportunity herself. They were no more than a couple of feet apart, so she had to tilt her head back a little to meet his angry gaze. Despite that, it was obvious she didn’t feel the slightest bit dismayed by his greater size or by his anger.

  “Who, me?” Her drawl was, in some manner Wolfe couldn’t define, peculiarly cutting.

  “Yes, you. You haven’t missed a chance to ridicule the security in this building.”

  “That’s probably because there isn’t any. You want to tell me how the hell I’m supposed to design a system to protect this building when ten-year-old laser grids are expected to function side by side with pressure alarms older than I am? Older than you are, for that matter.”

  That last mocking remark nearly surprised a laugh out of him, which was about par for the course where his conflicting reactions to her were concerned, but he managed to bite it back. Using a bit of sarcasm himself, he said, “Hey, you’re the one who seemed to think this would be a piece of cake, genius. I haven’t heard anybody else call it easy, so I doubt you were lured here with false promises.”

  “I wasn’t lured anywhere,” she said, the clipboard tucked under one arm and both hands planted on her hips. “I was sent here to do a job, which I will do. Nobody promised me a thing, false or otherwise, except my usual pay. And a bonus if I could get along with you.”

  For at least a moment, Wolfe thought she was serious. Given his past communications with Ace Security, which could best be termed acrimonious, it wouldn’t have been all that surprising. But then he saw the gleam of amusement in her green eyes, and he realized she was pulling his leg. A split second later, he realized something else.

  “You’ve been goading me all afternoon, haven’t you?” he demanded. “Ridiculing the security here because you knew it’d make me mad.”

  “Something like that,” she murmured.

  “Why?”

  Storm was smiling slightly. “You’ve been very tense. I thought it might help if you could let off a little steam.”

  Wolfe drew a breath. “I see.” Dammit, she was still pushing buttons—and all the right ones too. Worse, she was reading him like a book written in that easy-on-the-eyes crystal-clear type. And worse yet, she was so nonchalant about his temper that she was perfectly willing to deliberately incite him to lose it.

  “What are you—three parts witch?” he demanded.

  “Only one part. The other two parts are Irish and Cajun.”

  Wolfe all but winced. “If that isn’t a combustible mixture, I don’t know what is.”

  “Yeah. And you don’t want to get your fingers burned.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised him, Wolfe reflected wryly, that she would ruthlessly return them to the point where he had earlier walked out of the computer room. If he had learned nothing else about Storm Tremaine, he had learned she was utterly fearless in confronting whatever obstacle stood in her way. Even if it was him.

  Carefully, he said, “We ended this discussion a few hours ago.”

  “No, the discussion didn’t end. It just stopped. Rather abruptly, as I recall.”

  Wolfe jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and settled his shoulders. It was probably better to clear the decks here, he thought, where the possibility of being interrupted at least kept him from following his instincts.

  “All right, then,” he said grimly. “We’ll finish it. I’m not about to lie and say I don’t want you; we both know better. But I’m also old enough to have learned that it isn’t going to kill me if I don’t get what I want. You pointed out something along those lines yourself.”

  Storm regarded him thoughtfully. She was getting herself into more trouble than she needed, and she knew it, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. So it didn’t really surprise her when she heard herself say, “Let me get this straight. You want me—and heaven knows I’ve offered—but it isn’t going to happen because I asked for one small assurance you can’t—or won’t—give?”

  He nodded, silent.

  Very softly, she said, “Some women need promises, Wolfe. Even if they’re only lies.”

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  * * *

  I’m not going to lie to you.” He kept his voice even.

  At least, she thought, not about this. And she wondered if that should be her guideline as well; even if part of her life was filled with lies, she could keep this part honest. Couldn’t she? Or would Wolfe hate her even more when he discovered the truth about her?

  For an instant, Storm wavered. But looking at him, overwhelmingly conscious of the unexpected strength of her own longing, she silently gave up the struggle. There would be time later to count the cost; for now, she felt an enormous relief in having made the decision.

  With a faint smile, she said, “We all pay prices for what we want, don’t we? I’m willing to set aside all those quaint, old-fashioned ideas drummed into me since childhood, throw myself into a brief affair knowing it won’t lead to the altar—and I’ll pay a price for that. But I’m not asking anything of you except one small assurance that I’ll be a little more than another notch on your bedpost.”

  “I don’t do that,” he said tightly.

  “Oh, sure you do, Wolfe. Not literally—at least, I suppose not—but you must be keeping count. There wouldn’t have been so many if the number didn’t matter.”

  That gave him a very sobering shock—because she just might be right. Before he could react, she was going on in the same quiet drawl, the tone matter-of-fact.

  “Anyway, my point is that I can only meet you halfway. No matter which way you look at it, I’m giving up a lot more than you are, so I’ll be damned if I give up my pride as well.”

  “You make it sound like a battle,” he said.

  Her smile turned a bit rueful. “It probably will be,
considering the sparks we strike off each other. But I’d prefer to look on it as a kind of grand adventure.” She hesitated, then added, “One I’ve never had before.”

  Wolfe forced himself to wait a moment so that he wouldn’t blurt out the question. Slowly, he said, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  Characteristically, Storm answered bluntly and with a total lack of self-consciousness. “That you’d be the first man in my bed? Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

  “How old are you?” he demanded.

  “Pushing thirty,” she said promptly, then chuckled. “Well, twenty-eight, anyway. Naturally, being a proud woman, I have to assure you that there have been offers in the past.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  Storm eyed him, decided that he was still somewhat stunned by her revelation, and kept talking to give him time to pull himself together.

  “Of course, I had boyfriends in high school and college, and the pressure got a bit intense from time to time, but I was never really tempted to experiment. I suppose I just wasn’t ready. And with six older brothers, all a bit fierce about their baby sister, nobody pushed me too hard.” She shrugged. “Then, after school, my career was—is—pretty demanding. Till you stalked into my life yesterday, I still wasn’t tempted.”

  Wolfe cleared his throat and forced a note of mockery. “Then you took one look and tumbled, huh?”

  Storm laughed. “Something like that.”

  Fighting a silent battle with himself, Wolfe said, “If you’ve waited this long, why settle for an affair?”

  Storm looked faintly surprised. “I haven’t been waiting, not the way you seem to mean. Despite my upbringing, it wasn’t fixed in my head that it had to be marriage or nothing; I’m a bit too independent by nature to think that way. In fact, I like my life just fine as is, without the encumbrance of a husband—or lover.” She shrugged. “Maybe that’s why the timing’s right now; because I want a man who doesn’t want ties. Looks to me like it suits us both. In a few weeks, I’ll be on my way again, free as when I got here.”