by Fiona Brand
Tyler swept hair back from her face, drawn by his grin; the invitation to play irresistible. She felt giddily happy, almost dizzy with delight.
She didn't know how she'd got here, but suddenly she was in completely new territory. She was head over heels in love with the stranger who just happened to be her husband. He wanted her, he'd just spent most of the day proving how much, and crazy or not, they had just bound themselves together in the oldest way there was, by trying to make a baby.
West's gaze caught hers and held. Her heart slammed hard against her chest, and for a moment she had difficulty breathing. West was strong. She'd always thought of him as invincible, never as vulnerable, but suddenly her mind was filled with the crazy notion that maybe West was just as vulnerable as she was.
Chapter 12
Tyler spent the next day working on West's laptop reviewing the information she'd collated on disk and trying to add to it. An officer from the police department rang asking if she needed counselling after the mugging and the break-in. Tyler resisted the urge to say that what she wanted was an arrest, and hung up.
Late in the afternoon, she went back to her apartment, checked all the rooms and packed more clothes. When she walked back into West's apartment, he was working on his computer.
She placed the suitcase she'd brought on the floor, feeling edgy and unsettled because even in broad daylight, she hadn't felt safe in her own home. "I'm going to ring around and get some quotes on a security system."
"You don't have to worry about that. I've already asked Ben to come around and install a system."
"Ben as in Ben McCabe?"
"He's the best in the business. And besides, he's a friend, he'll give you a discount. If you've got a problem with that, I can put him off."
"No, no problem." Except that Tyler remembered Ben from the years she was married, actively married, to West, and it felt odd that he should come around to do the security. In a strange way it was almost as if her past life was reconstructing itself around her again.
West closed down his program. "Cornell rang. They're broadening the jade investigation. They think that whoever broke in here might be connected with the theft."
Tyler let out a breath, not knowing whether to be relieved or terrified. After days of being out on a limb with the police, the press and Laine's, suddenly she had support. The crimes still didn't make any kind of sense—even less so when all grouped together— but if a cold, competent player like Cornell believed, then some kind of concrete link must exist.
West rose from his seat. "I've been putting some feelers out to contacts in Interpol. Did Cornell take both sets of security tapes?"
"Along with a third back-up set that Richard keeps."
"So that leaves the computer system itself. If it's an inside job, that's the only place we can start looking. Do you still have keys?" Tyler extracted the keys from her purse. "Then let's go and see what we can find." She checked her watch. It was five-thirty now, still sunny and light outside, but Laine's would have closed. "I'll ring Harrison and tell him what we're doing, then I'll call the night watchman and tell him to expect us."
Laine's was quiet as Tyler keyed in her PIN and waited for the lock to disengage. Above her she was overwhelmingly aware of the surveillance cameras, their presence overt and a little daunting, even for customers, but a necessary measure. Since the jade had been stolen, the auction house had lost clients. If they lost many more, the business would be hurt. In order to keep some shred of credibility they had to be seen to have impeccable security. The building and all entrances and windows were now under twenty-four-hour camera and manual surveillance. If so much as a sandfly moved, the security team would know it.
The door swung open and they stepped through. West glanced around the lobby as Tyler closed the door behind them. "Pretty cameras. Who did the job?"
"ALC Security Systems. Harrison's dealt with them forever."
"Good solid firm."
She met his gaze. "But what?" "I don't have a problem with ALC. In fact it'll make what I'm going to do easier. They're an old firm—very straight line—which means they'll do things strictly by the book. That means no smart-ass young kid's been in there and created a reputation for himself with oddball system writing." His gaze skimmed the hushed carpeted interior of the auction rooms as they moved through the building. "That's probably why you got ripped off. Someone saw the opportunity and manipulated your system."
"So we lose, no matter how good the system is." "With computers, it's always a crap shoot. The technology's moving so fast, security can't be assured."
Tyler pushed open the door to the office where the junior staff worked and the computers that were linked into Laine's network were kept. She sat down and booted up the system. "Cornell's had ALC's experts going through the system. What do you expect to find that they can't?"
"Maybe nothing, but there's no harm in looking. It's possible that ALC will be blinded by their own programming. I won't be. I also have the advantage that I didn't write the program, and I don't need to stand by it."
Tyler keyed in her password, then accessed the security program. "The whole vault is wired. Whenever anyone opens a deposit box the computer logs it and allocates a number. That means there's a numerical sequence for every action that involves the use of the deposit boxes. A separate system screens the vault door. The security guard checks each person in, and writes the computer-generated number into the manual log book. At the close of business the vault is time-locked until eight the next morning, so no one has access at night." Tyler stood and moved back so West could sit down. "As a system it was supposed to be foolproof."
West scrolled through the menu. "What happens if the power shuts down?''
"The telephone system automatically pages our security firm, and they dispatch a crew. In any case, the night watchman is here. If he thinks anything is even remotely suspicious, he calls the police and whichever manager is rostered on to do after-hours duty."
West's fingers moved across the keyboard. A new screen popped up. "How often are the deposit-box numbers checked?"
"They're not checked unless there's a problem. The only staff allowed in the vault are managers. That's a total of eight people, including Harrison, Richard and myself, and we're each accountable for our own stock. Until now, the system's worked perfectly."
West began generating reports for the day of the robbery, his gaze moving quickly across the tabulated columns on the screen matching names, dates and times with the lists of figures that represented deposit boxes. He swore softly. "All the figures run in sequence, but that doesn't mean much when the jade's gone. Either the thief disconnected the entire system, which would mean a security call out, or he got into the program and rewrote it so that what we're looking at here isn't reality—it's whatever he, or she, wanted the program to show."
He called up another menu and was stalled when the program denied access. His gaze settled on hers. "Who has access to the software?"
For a moment Tyler went blank. "In theory, no one."
"Who?"
Tyler drew a breath; her stomach churned sickly. "Richard's the only person I know who's had anything to do with the system. He worked with ALC to design it."
West exited the program. "In that case Cornell will have it covered. If Richard worked with ALC, they'll be hauling his ass across the coals as well."
"It's not Richard," she said bluntly. "It can't be."
West got to his feet, his expression noncommittal. Richard Laine was wealthy and successful, but his personality was essentially sealed off. In that respect, they were similar, but in every other way they were as different as night and day.
With the value system that West had evolved as he'd moved from the brutality of the streets to the discipline of the military and the refined savagery of the business world, there were certain absolutes that had stuck. Loyalty and honor among them. But, in the final analysis, everyone had to stand in their own power. Whether he was on the street, in a
battle situation or a boardroom, West knew that kind of self-sufficiency when he saw it. Tyler had it in spades. The first time he'd seen her, he'd recognized the quality. It wasn't anything tangible—just there. Richard, wealthy and supported by a loving family as he was, had never needed that kind of strength.
The absence of strength didn't make Richard a criminal, but it did make West watchful. Until he knew Richard he would remain watchful. "The perp could be anyone who has access to your computers, and who has a good understanding of your security system as a whole."
"Then we're back where we started. With nothing. The thief could be anyone."
''Not quite. Now we know the thief is a computer buff. And I'm willing to bet he's tampered with the camera footage, too."
The next morning, Tyler took a seat at West's desk and moved the mouse on the pad. The screensaver flicked off, and she stared blankly at the message that was still on the screen. There wasn't much to it. The message was addressed to West, and was an agreement to meet in an hour. The person who had sent the message had simply signed himself as Chen.
West had left just minutes ago to attend a business meeting with Blade and Gray, but hadn't mentioned that he would also be meeting a Chinese contact.
Tyler wasn't sure what West was up to, but she was almost certain the meeting wasn't business, and that it had something to do with the jade theft.
Tyler began searching West's mail directory, skimming systematically, but there was no reference to the mysterious Chen.
Chen could be anyone, the reasons for West to be meeting with him, manifold. He could be an expert in Chinese jade, but if Chen was legitimate, why hadn't West brought her and the police in on the meeting? And why keep it from her in the first place? The only reason she could think of for the secrecy was if West was meeting with a source who wasn't legitimate. It was even possible that Chen was a member of the Chinese underworld.
A chill went down her spine. She knew West had spent time in China both for his work and privately. The fact that West had spent much of his childhood and adolescence on the streets and had known all the gangs and a large percentage of the criminal underworld didn't do anything positive for the equation.
That West was trying to help she didn't question. It was the way he was trying to help that worried her. The publicity attached to the jade was explosive; it had damaged her business credibility, and the media had already linked the two of them. If they decided that West had anything at all to do with the jade, they would be merciless.
She went still inside. She was worrying about West's connection to the theft of the jade, but that aside, if the press decided that West was seriously close to her, they would go for his jugular anyway.
As yet, the fact that she was married, but separated, had only been touched on by the media, but with West firmly back in the picture, it wouldn't take long for the press to drag out all the details they could on the early part of his life. Her background had been dicey enough—West's had been savage.
Maybe he had a good reason for the secrecy. Whatever his reasoning was for taking the risk, she couldn't condone it. The jade had been stolen from Laine's. It had been stolen from her.
She hit the disconnect on the e-mail, picked up the phone and rang Maia, who had been coming to "baby-sit" her in West's absence, and put her off, then she walked quickly through to West's room. Their room, she thought, her stomach turning a somersault as she grabbed her handbag, checked that her car keys were in the side pocket and, on impulse, rummaged in her suitcase for a scarf.
Fifteen minutes later, Tyler located West's car in the car park of Lombard's Hotel, parked a discreet distance away and sat, air-conditioning on full blast while she waited. Less than five minutes had passed before he strolled to his car, slid into the driver's seat and nosed out of his space. She followed, hands damp on the wheel as she tried to keep at least two
cars behind him. Luckily, her car wasn't glaringly distinctive. It was a light bronze color that was popular enough that it blended with the stream of traffic, whereas West's car was dark enough to stand out.
She recognized the route long before they reached the destination. West was driving to the airport.
She followed him into the car park at a snail's pace, keeping her distance—noted where he'd parked, and drove into the next block of spaces, pulling in beside a dusty pickup truck that would completely obscure her car from West's field of vision. She grabbed her handbag, locked her car and peered around the edge of the truck. At that precise moment, West looked almost directly at her as he pushed dark glasses onto the bridge of his nose. She ducked back out of sight, heart pounding for long tense seconds, half expecting West to walk around the side of the truck and ask her what she was doing following him.
She counted to five, then looked again. West was walking toward the terminal building: he hadn't spotted her.
Letting out a breath, she grabbed the scarf from her bag, hooked the handbag over her shoulder, and tied the scarf peasant-style around her head as she threaded her way through the cars. The scarf was a piece of indigo silk she'd bought simply because she'd liked the deep color and the supple quality of the silk. It wasn't much as disguises went, but it was dark enough that it wouldn't draw the gaze. Most important, it hid her most distinctive feature, which was her hair.
She waited until he was almost at the terminal building before she started after him, only to have to duck down behind a car when he stopped at one of the parking-ticket booths.
It took something away from the clandestine nature of the thing for West to calmly get a parking ticket before he undertook whatever illegal or undercover activity he was engaged in. Of course, it was always possible that this wasn't where he was meeting the mysterious Chinese person—he could be here for another entirely mundane reason, and the meeting place was elsewhere.
Gritting her teeth, she decided that she would have to get her parking ticket now also. Otherwise, she'd be stuck with getting a ticket when it was time to leave, and if she wasn't careful she could lose him altogether.
She tossed up whether she should just calmly walk to one of the machines and feed her money into the slot, then decided against the idea. The booths were open and exposed, all facing the large windows that fronted the terminal building. The likelihood that West would spot her was too great. She would have to wait until he'd obtained his ticket and entered the building, which meant she could lose him completely.
Frustrating seconds passed while he waited in line. When he finally moved away from the booth, Tyler
walked briskly to the nearest machine, slotted coins in, obtained her ticket and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans as she walked through the glass doors and into the departures foyer. She skirted the long, barnlike building, trying to stay merged with groups of people. When she didn't see West anywhere, she took the elevator up to the next level, the one with shops and cafes, avoiding the escalator because that would expose her to view on both levels for too long. After doing a brief circuit of the retail area without spotting West, she finally settled on the vantage point of a bookshop, which gave her a good view of the area, including the escalator, with the added bonus that she could hide behind a book if she did see West.
Minutes later, she saw West's distinctive figure. He was strolling with an exquisitely dressed Chinese man. They stopped in front of the cafe adjacent to the bookshop, shook hands, then the Chinese man walked rapidly away. Instead of leaving, West strolled into the bookshop, and picked up a newspaper.
Tyler moved behind a bookstand, her heart thumping. She counted to ten then peered around the bookstand, to check where he was, but he had disappeared.
"What in hell are you doing here?"
The book Tyler was holding flew out of her hands. She spun around and almost bumped into West's chest. Her heart stopped, then pounded back to life.
What do you think you're doing?" She bent and retrieved the book and put it back on the shelf.
"Trying to figure out what you're doi
ng."
Tyler could feel herself flushing, the color rising in a hot, swamping tide. "I was making sure you were all right."
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I thought you might be setting up a meet with some, you know..." Now that she had to say it out loud it sounded ridiculous. "Some Chinese bad guys."
"Triad? You've got to be kidding."
"He wasn't Triad?"
"Chen's too busy minding his own assets to try and steal anyone else's. If he wants a company, he takes it the legal way, but he does collect jade. He's going to see what he can find out about the theft in the Asian community. I didn't want you involved in this because Chen can work better without being publicly linked with Laine's. It's a delicate matter. Chen also happens to deal in jade and he has an intimate knowledge of all aspects of the jade market—including the black market. On more than one occasion he's had to track down pieces, but for him to do the work he needs to be discreet. If he's coupled with this scandal, it'll scare off his sources."
West's hand dropped to the small of her back and she found herself propelled forward. ' 'Just out of interest, how did you find out I was meeting him?" "I read your e-mail."
"You read my e-mail." He shook his head. "Why didn't I see that one coming?"
He took her hand as they threaded their way between the cafe tables, and pulled her toward the exit.
Tyler scanned the swirling mass of people and saw the notice they were attracting. "What if someone takes our photo?"
West said two succinct words. "It'll give them something else to talk about besides the jade."
She tried to unlink her fingers from his. "I don't want you linked with me in the papers."
He stopped abruptly, keeping his grip on her hand, his gaze dark and enigmatic, and the vulnerability she'd only guessed at surfaced again, taking her breath. "You're worried about what the press is going to do to me?"