Falling Awake

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Go on,” she said.

  “Also, I was sort of busy fine-tuning my blackjack system. So I kind of put Dr. B.’s computer aside. I mean, what was the rush, huh? The guy’s dead. Anyhow, I finally got around to taking a look at the files he had stored on his hard drive a couple of days ago. For kicks I went through them. They were all password-protected so it took me a while.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Most of them were just research notes about his extreme dream theories. But one of those files had a different password. A real tricky code. Made me curious, you know?”

  “That’s where you found the e-mail addresses for the three clients?”

  “You got it. The old man had a few secrets he kept from you and me both. I tried tracing the three but they’re all locked and scrambled a dozen different ways. Whoever they are, those three clients don’t want anyone tracking them down. Looks like real expert work. Maybe if I had time I could untangle them but maybe not. Thing is, they aren’t much good to me, anyway. What would I do with those clients? Also, I’m sort of in a hurry to try out the new version of my system in Vegas. So I decided to see if you were interested in the addresses.”

  “Let me get this straight. You want to sell those e-mail addresses to me?”

  “I’m real sorry about that part, Isabel. Honest. But I need the cash, see, and I just don’t know anyone else who might pay a few bucks for these addresses.” His voice vibrated with tension. “Are they worth anything at all to you?”

  “I’m afraid I’m having a cash flow problem myself at the moment, Gavin. My bank account is hovering around zero and my credit cards are maxed out.”

  “Even a few hundred bucks would help,” Gavin assured her. “I could go to one of the little casinos way off the Strip where they don’t know me and turn it into a stake that I could use to get into a big game.”

  “I could come up with maybe two hundred bucks cash.”

  “Oh, shit. Is that all? I’m pretty desperate, Isabel.”

  She tried to think. “I know one of those three clients personally. He might be interested in talking to you.”

  “Hey, if he’s still big on keeping secrets, maybe I could do a deal with him, you know?”

  “What kind of a deal?”

  “Gotta think here. Maybe he’d like to know who the other two clients are or something. Or maybe he’d be willing to pay me not to sell his address to the other two.”

  “No offense, Gavin, but that sounds a lot like blackmail.”

  “Nah, it’s just business.”

  It was not exactly business as usual, she thought, and Ellis probably wasn’t going to like it. But she had a hunch that he would want to discuss the situation with Gavin.

  “Okay, I’ll call him and then call you back,” she said. “Where are you staying?”

  “Motel out on the old highway. The Breakers. I’m in number eight. I’m heading back there now. Give me a call after you talk to your client and we’ll make arrangements. I’d better give you my cell phone number because I doubt if the manager’s office is still open to handle calls. The place is sort of a dive, you know? Got a pen?”

  “Just a sec.” She fumbled with her glasses and then picked up the pen on the bedside table. “Okay, go.”

  He rattled off a number. “Call me back as soon as you can, okay?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Thanks, Isabel.” Gavin’s voice almost throbbed with heartfelt relief. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  The phone clicked in her ear.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, absently petting Sphinx for a moment while she pondered developments.

  Then she bent down and dug the Roxanna Beach phone book out of the drawer in the bedside table. She found the number for the Seacrest Inn and dialed it quickly.

  While she waited for him to answer, she thought about why the dream she’d had earlier disturbed her so deeply.

  It wasn’t the fact that Ellis was Dream Man. Heck, she already knew that. She had made the decision to install unknown Client Number Two in the role months ago. The only thing that had changed this week was that she now had a face to go with everything else that she knew about him.

  No, the real problem was Midnight Man’s attire tonight. In that single glimpse she’d managed to get before Gavin’s call woke her she had realized that Dream Man had not come to her in any of the usual, rakish sartorial guises she had designed for him on previous visits.

  Tonight he had been garbed, instead, in a pair of black trousers, silver gray, open-collar shirt and a well-tailored jacket woven in shades of gray and black. It was the outfit Ellis had worn that evening.

  She tried to tell herself there was nothing to worry about. It was just a dream, for heaven’s sake. But she was lying to herself and she knew it.

  Because the truth was that tonight’s dream had not been one she had orchestrated for herself as a pleasant, erotic interlude to be enjoyed on her terms in a safe, controlled state of extreme lucid dreaming. This evening’s show had been unplanned, unpremeditated and unpredictable. Her dreaming mind had come up with it all by itself after she had fallen sound asleep.

  No need to be afraid, she assured herself, at least not yet. But she should probably be real worried.

  14

  it was still raining when he left the bar. He hunched deeper into his windbreaker, the one with the logo of his favorite casino on the back, yanked his billed cap lower over his eyes, stuck his hands into his pockets and tromped across the gravel parking lot.

  The stretch of old highway that separated the bar from his motel was poorly lit. There were no streetlights or signals. The only illumination came from the neon signs above the bar and the one that announced the motel. There were no crosswalks or sidewalks, either, but who cared? There was hardly any traffic.

  The crunch of footsteps on gravel behind him startled him out of his reverie.

  “What?” He spun around and then had to grab hold of the fender of a pickup truck because he was a little unsteady on his feet.

  His first panicked thought was that the casino had sent collectors after him. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

  A figure moved out of the shadows.

  “Hello, Gavin.”

  Not a casino enforcer. The relief was so great he nearly crumpled.

  “What the hell?” He pulled himself together. “What are you doing here?”

  “You were assigned to wipe the files off Martin Belvedere’s hard drive.”

  “So what? Just doing my job.”

  “I wondered if you found anything of interest.”

  This was getting a little weird. “You followed me to ask me that?”

  “You can’t blame me for being curious after the way you disappeared so suddenly today.”

  “I didn’t disappear,” Gavin muttered. “I just decided to take some time off.”

  “You told your colleagues that you were ill.”

  “So sue me. I got plenty of sick time coming.”

  “One of the people in your department overheard you making some calls before you left the center. He said it sounded like you were trying to locate Isabel Wright.”

  “We’re friends, me and Isabel,” he said. “Just thought I’d stop in and say hello while I’m in town, that’s all.”

  “I didn’t realize you and Isabel were that close.”

  “Look, I don’t know what this is about, but it’s late and I’m planning to get up early.”

  “You did find something on Martin Belvedere’s computer, didn’t you? I thought so. It was the only explanation that made sense.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was ordered to wipe that hard drive.” He could feel himself starting to sweat again. “I didn’t steal anything, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

  “You misunderstand. I’m not accusing you of stealing company data. I just want to know what you found and why you came here to talk to Isabel Wright. There must be some co
nnection. Otherwise it doesn’t make sense for you to go out of your way to stop off in Roxanna Beach. It’s not exactly on the road to Las Vegas, is it?”

  “My reasons for being here are none of your business. This is personal.”

  “I’m willing to pay for whatever information you found, Gavin.”

  Excitement swamped his growing unease. “Yeah? Well, hell, why didn’t you say that in the first place? What kind of money are we talking?”

  “First tell me what you’ve got. Then I’ll tell you what it’s worth to me.”

  “E-mail contact information for old man Belvedere’s three anonymous accounts.” He waited anxiously to see if that generated any interest.

  “I’m impressed. I would very much like to have that information. I’ve got a few hundred in cash on me but if we can find an ATM I could make it an even thousand. I know that’s not a lot but it’s all I can come up with tonight. Unless you want to wait until the banks open tomorrow?”

  Gavin calculated quickly. The bright lights of Las Vegas were calling. No reason he couldn’t sell the information twice tonight, maybe double his profits. And no need for either client to know about the other.

  This was one of those win-win situations.

  “There’s an ATM down the street at that gas station on the corner,” he said. “I noticed it this afternoon when I filled up my car.”

  “Fine. I’ll drive over and get the money. It would probably be best if we weren’t seen together. Why don’t you go back to your motel room? I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Las Vegas, here I come.

  15

  ellis knew he was dreaming. There was nothing unusual about that. He was a Level Five lucid dreamer, after all. He even recognized this particular dreamscape. But there was something different about it tonight. . . .

  He stands in the center of the circular room. The ceiling is transparent. He can see the night sky through it. High, gothic-style entrances to dozens of darkened halls ring the space.

  Tango Dancer comes toward him from one of the many corridors. He wants to make love to her more than he has ever wanted anything in his adult life. But he is afraid that afterward she will walk away from him and vanish into one of the mysterious halls.

  She glides into the circular room, smiling a feminine invitation that makes him ache with desire. She stops in the shadows. Raising one hand, she beckons him with a graceful curl of her fingertips.

  He does not move. He knows that if he stays where he is she cannot see him clearly. It is better that way.

  “Are you afraid of me?” she asks.

  “No,” he says. “I’m afraid of wanting you this much.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” he lies.

  “Yes you do. You think that I will leave you.”

  “Everyone leaves.”

  “Will you let that stop you from touching me?”

  “No.” But a great despair and anger well up inside him because he knows what will happen. She will demand more than he can risk giving her. She will want to see him, really see him. She will want to get very close and he cannot allow that. He has a rule about letting people get close. He put that rule in place a long time ago, when he was twelve.

  She reaches out to him with both hands. “Come with me.”

  He starts toward her because, in spite of everything, he cannot resist her.

  But when he gets close enough for her to see his face, she turns and runs away, disappearing into one of the dark gothic passages . . .

  The harsh jangle of the phone jarred him awake.

  He sat up quickly, trying to ignore his erection and the tight, heavy sensation in the lower part of his body. The phone rang again.

  He swung his legs out from under the covers, planted both feet on the floor and looked at the face of the radio alarm clock. Twelve fifty-three. It was the room phone. Not Lawson, then. Lawson always called him on his personal phone.

  That left Isabel. At this hour? Adrenaline spiked. His pulse pounded.

  He grabbed the phone. “This is Cutler.”

  “Ellis?” Isabel hesitated. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I know it’s late, but—”

  “What’s wrong?” He cut in before she could get out another word.

  “Well, I want to ask you a hypothetical question.”

  He glanced at the face of the bedside alarm clock again. “It’s almost one o’clock in the morning so I’m going to assume that this question is more than hypothetical. What is it?”

  “It’s a little complicated.”

  “Isabel—”

  “All right, here’s the question. Do you think there are any serious laws against an honest citizen buying or selling e-mail addresses, at least one of which was created specifically for a government agency that doesn’t officially exist?”

  he made it to her front door in fifteen minutes flat. She was waiting on the porch. The yellow lamplight gleamed on the glossy black, calf-length raincoat she wore. Her hair was drawn up into a careless twist at the back of her head.

  She flew down the front steps, the black coat flapping around her, and yanked open the passenger-side door. She slid into the seat beside him and glared at him through the lenses of her black-framed glasses.

  “I’m warning you, Ellis, I won’t let you threaten Gavin.”

  “Fasten your seat belt.” He put the Maserati in gear and accelerated swiftly.

  “Ellis, I mean it.” She fumbled with the seat belt. “He’s not a criminal. He’s got a gambling addiction.”

  “Where is he?”

  “The Breakers Motel.” She shot him an uneasy look. “Just outside of town on the old highway. I tried to call him back on his personal phone a few minutes ago but he didn’t answer. Gavin is having some financial problems with a casino. He sounded worried.”

  “Trust me, he’s got a good reason to be worried.”

  “I told you, all he wants is some cash.” She sat tensely in the seat, arms crossed beneath her breasts. “In hindsight, I can see that it was a mistake to call you tonight.”

  “No, your mistake was in refusing to tell me where Hardy is staying unless I agreed to pick you up and take you with me to confront him.”

  “I didn’t care for your tone of voice when I told you what had happened.”

  “You didn’t care for my tone of voice? I don’t believe this. I was pissed when you wouldn’t tell me where Hardy was staying. How the hell did you expect me to sound?”

  “I couldn’t let you confront him alone,” she said firmly. “I was afraid you’d scare the daylights out of him.”

  “That would have been a good start.”

  He shifted gears. The Maserati leaped forward so fast the change in speed slammed both Isabel and him back into the seats. He was accustomed to it. Isabel was not but she said nothing. She did, however, brace one hand against the dash and give him a quelling glare.

  This was bad, he thought. They were in the midst of a major quarrel. Things had been going so well, too. They’d made it through a first date and a first kiss. And now he was blowing the whole thing because of his little obsession problem. At this rate she was going to conclude that he was a dangerous, unpredictable lunatic.

  “Don’t you think you might be overreacting?” she asked.

  He downshifted for a curve. “No.”

  “For heaven’s sake, they’re just e-mail addresses.” She spread her hands. “Two of which you already know.”

  “Let’s get something clear. I’m not real worried about what Hardy does with my e-mail address or with Lawson’s, either, for that matter. They’re both so well secured that I doubt if there are more than half a dozen people on the face of the earth who could trace them back to their sources. In any event, once I tell Lawson what’s going on, those addresses will cease to exist.”

  “Okay, so it’s the third client you’re concerned about,” she said, amazingly calm.

  “Yes.” He chang
ed gears again, wondering what was going through her mind.

  Still bracing herself against the dash, she angled her head slightly to study his profile. “I’ll admit I’m curious about the identity of Number Three, myself. The implication is that there is another Level Five dreamer out there somewhere who wants secrecy as badly as you and Lawson do.”

  “That’s the implication, all right.”

  “I can understand a degree of interest on your part,” she said patiently. “But would you mind telling me why you’re freaking out about it?”

  He considered how much to tell her. She already knew a great deal about Lawson’s operation and if she was serious about contracting out her services to Lawson and him, she was going to learn a lot more.

  Hell, she had a right to know.

  “I am very, very wired about this third client because I think there is a possibility that he just might be the man I mentioned earlier at dinner, Vincent Scargill.”

  “Maybe you better tell me a little more about him.”

  “The only thing you need to know tonight is that Scargill is a Level Five killer.”

  “Oh, my God.” Her voice went very soft as she absorbed the ramifications. “An extreme dreamer who is also a sociopath and a murderer would be—”

  “Right. Your worst nightmare.”

  isabel did not like the way she had been feeling since Gavin’s call. “Jittery” was the only word she could come up with to describe the strange sensation. Sitting in the seat next to Ellis for the past few minutes had done nothing to elevate her mood. It was a lot like sharing a den with a hungry wolf. All traces of the warm, sensual promise that she had experienced in his arms earlier when he kissed her good night had vanished. In its place was a steady, ice-cold intensity that was disturbingly familiar. She had sensed it often enough in his dream reports.

  The news that a person like Vincent Scargill existed and was at large had made things a whole lot worse.