The Chilling Deception

by Jayne Castle

  “Zac, this is not a joke.”

  “Honey, my guess is that it wasn’t a real pistol. I’ll bet it was one of those gadgets that lights a cigarette when you pull the trigger. Typical executive toy. Your imagination was no doubt in high gear.”

  “It looked awfully real, Zac.” Guinevere became very serious. “And it worries me. Vandyke seems to be under a tremendous amount of pressure.”

  “You’ve only been working for the guy for three days. How would you know what kind of pressure he’s capable of tolerating?”

  She lifted her chin with unconscious arrogance. “I know people, Zac. He’s worried and he’s stressed.”

  He shook his head. “You feel sorry for people, you empathize with them. People confide in you because you’re a good listener, and you can get along with a wide variety of personality types. That does not mean you ‘know’ people. Take it from me, Vandyke wouldn’t be where he is today if he weren’t capable of handling a fair amount of pressure.”

  “You’ve never even met the man!”

  “Anyone who has a private marble and mauve washroom, let alone a private executive secretary, is basically made of sturdy stuff. Wimps don’t get far in the business world.”

  Guinevere sighed. “You don’t understand, Zac. I’ve been working very closely with him for the past three days. I had to take a phone call from his wife the first morning I was on the job. That call alone was enough to tell me he’s on the edge. Vandyke was very upset afterward. And he’s been upset every time she’s called since.”

  “He’s having marital problems?”

  Guinevere nodded. “I’m sure of it. I think she’s left him. And I’m sure he’s still in love with her. I tell you, Zac, he was in bad shape after those calls.”

  “So you think he might be planning to kill himself in the executive washroom using a gold-plated pistol. His wife must be something else to warrant that kind of reaction.”

  Grimly Guinevere pursued her line of logic. “It isn’t just the trouble with his wife. I happen to know that the proposal he’s working on is a crucial one for the company. He’s been wearing himself out getting everything in order for the big presentation to the client next weekend. I think he’s afraid of someone stealing the documents. He’s instituted very strict security in the office. In fact I think it was security reasons that made him hire an outside secretary instead of borrowing one of the vice presidents’ secretaries.”

  Zac cocked an eyebrow, looking slightly interested at last. “He figured he was safer with an outsider who wouldn’t know what she was typing?”

  “Or who wouldn’t have any contacts in the company. The selection of Camelot Services was probably a deliberately random choice. Vandyke doesn’t have to worry about me already having established a foothold in the company as an industrial spy. I don’t know anyone in the firm, and no one knows me.”

  “Your mind is a fascinating thing, Gwen,” Zac said admiringly.

  “You’re not going to take this seriously, are you?”

  “Not until I find out what all this is leading up to,” he admitted.

  Guinevere decided to play her ace. “It could be leading up to a job for Free Enterprise Security,” she announced sweetly. “A little something perhaps to tide you over until that consulting assignment in January.”

  That got another raised eyebrow out of Zac. “What kind of job?”

  Guinevere took her time answering. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what you would call it. I haven’t discussed this with Vandyke yet either. But I’ve been thinking . . .”

  “Lord have mercy.”

  She ignored him. “Vandyke is supposed to go to a resort in the San Juan Islands this weekend to make the presentation to his client. I’m going to go with him.”

  Zac suddenly ceased his methodical attack on the soup. There was an unexpected bleakness in his gray gaze when he looked up. “You’re what?”

  Guinevere decided not to let his too quiet tone faze her, but it was easier said than done. Her throat seemed to need clearing and her appetite threatened to evaporate. This was idiotic, she lectured herself. Damned if she was going to let Zachariah Justis affect her this way. “Good grief,” she managed dryly. “You’d think I had just announced I intended to run off for a quickie weekend fling with the boss.”

  “That’s not what you’re announcing?”

  “Zac,” she hissed, leaning forward, “I am discussing business. The trip to the resort in the San Juans is business. My association with Mr. Vandyke is business. Now if you’ll climb down off your macho high horse, you and I will continue to discuss business. If you’d rather sit there and ruin a perfectly good lunch by glowering at me, then I’ll let you eat alone.”

  “Where,” he asked bluntly, “do I fit into all this business?”

  “That’s what I was just getting around to explaining.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  Guinevere drew a deep breath, glad that his eyes had cleared a little. He had no right to react so possessively, she reminded herself. After all, it wasn’t as if she and Zac had come to some sort of official understanding about their vague relationship. “I think Mr. Vandyke needs you.”

  “In what capacity? Chaperone for you and him?”

  “Hardly. Mr. Vandyke is nearly fifty and very much in love with his wife.”

  “Who is presently giving him a hard time.”

  “Forget Vandyke’s wife. I think he needs you to provide him with peace of mind, Zac. I’m going to have a talk with him this afternoon and see if I can’t get him to understand that.”

  Zac looked at her blankly. “Peace of mind? What the hell kind of peace of mind am I supposed to provide him? Is he afraid his wife will find out he’s run off to some resort with his new temp secretary? Gwen, you’re not making a whole lot of sense.”

  “I am talking about his peace of mind regarding his proposal documents.” Infuriated by his deliberate obtuseness, Guinevere set down her spoon with a snap. “Mr. Vandyke has several things preying on his mind at the moment. I am suggesting that he hire you to take at least some of the pressure off.”

  “You’re going to tell him he should hire me to baby-sit his precious documents? Forget it, Gwen. I’m in the security consulting business, remember? I’m not a file clerk.”

  “For someone who’s not going to see another consulting fee until January you’re being rather uppity about this, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not starving to death. If I find myself in danger of it I’ll ring your doorbell and beg for a handout.”

  “You’d rather beg from me than work for a living?”

  A rare, wicked grin spread across Zac’s face. “A tantalizing thought, isn’t it? What would you give me if I came begging, Gwen?”

  “A meal ticket down at the mission! Zac, stop making a joke out of this. I am genuinely worried about my client, and I think I’ve found a way to take some of the pressure off him and at the same time throw a little business your way.”

  “A perfect Guinevere Jones solution.”

  She gave him a challenging look. “Well, isn’t it?”

  “What do you envision me doing, Gwen? Running around for three days with a briefcase chained to my wrist? Who’s going to steal the documents from him at the resort anyway? He’s going there to meet the potential client, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, but he’s not the only developer who will be presenting his bids to Sheldon Washburn. There will be two other companies represented. Those executives will undoubtedly be bringing along assistants or secretaries too. Any one of which might be a spy.”

  “The plot thickens.”

  Guinevere regarded him with lofty disdain. “Are you interested or not?”

  “Not.”

  She was startled more than anything else. It hadn’t occurred to her that Za
c would refuse the offer of a job. It was Guinevere’s turn to blink. “You mean that? You really don’t want to pick up a nice check for three days’ easy work?”

  “I’m not sure it’s good for the image,” he said consideringly as their soup bowls were removed and replaced with plates of spiced noodles and chicken. “Briefcases chained to the wrist and all that. Kind of tacky. Smacks of courier boy or something. Low-class.”

  “I never said the briefcase would have to be chained to your wrist,” she muttered. “And since when did you become so concerned with status?”

  “You’ve been teaching me how important image is lately. It’s all your fault.” He spun a fork around in the noodles, expertly winding them neatly onto it.

  Guinevere paused, thrown more off balance by his refusal than she wanted to admit. She’d had plans, she realized. The long weekend at the resort would have provided an opportunity to find some peace of mind for herself. “Well, I suppose if you feel that strongly about it I’ll just have to think of something else.”

  “I not only doubt Vandyke needs a document babysitter on this jaunt, I also doubt he needs a private secretary,” Zac went on coolly. “I see no reason for him to drag you along. Tell him your agency does not provide twenty-four-hour secretarial service.”

  Guinevere’s eyes narrowed, resentment beginning to simmer in her. “I run Camelot Services, Zac. I’ll decide what jobs to accept.”

  “Hadn’t you better be concerned with your own image?” he shot back too smoothly. “If you get a reputation for taking out-of-town trips with businessmen you might find yourself swamped with more work than you can handle.”

  Resentment turned to fury, effectively killing her appetite. It took a fierce effort of will to control the angry trembling in her fingers as Guinevere carefully folded her napkin and got to her feet.

  “Gwen?” Zac frowned up at her.

  “Don’t worry, Zac. I won’t stick you with my share of the tab.” She coolly slid the money out of her gray leather clutch purse. “That’ll take care of my bill with enough left over for a tip. I’ll have to trust you not to pocket the tip, of course, but I guess I don’t have any choice.” She reached for her coat.

  “Jesus Christ, Gwen, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Walking out before you can insult me any further.” She smiled very brittlely. “I’m going back to the office—the man I work for happens to be a gentleman. Gentlemen are so rare these days.”

  “Damn it, Gwen, I wasn’t insulting you. I was just trying to make a point. Now sit down and stop acting like a child. This is ridiculous . . .”

  But Zac was talking to empty space. Guinevere had her coat on and was on her way out of the restaurant. In stunned amazement, he watched the scarlet coat flash through the door. Out on the street she turned in the direction of Vandyke’s office building and vanished into the crowd. The problem with the new style in women’s footwear, Zac decided, was that it allowed the wearers to move a great deal faster than they could in high heels.

  Slowly Zac pulled his attention back to his half eaten spicy noodles. “Damn temperamental female.”

  “Excuse me, sir. More coffee?” the waitress asked with a politely inquiring smile.

  “No thanks.”

  “Will the lady be returning?”

  “She had to leave,” Zac mumbled, searching for a convenient excuse. It was humiliating to have a woman walk out on you in a public restaurant, he discovered, chagrined. “Business appointment.”

  “Of course. I’ll clear her plate.”

  “Fine.” It would be tacky to tell her to leave Gwen’s plate of noodles so he could finish them, Zac decided morosely. Just one more irritation to chalk up to Guinevere Jones, he thought as he watched the excellent noodles disappear toward the kitchen. Not only did Jones abandon him in the restaurant, he couldn’t even find a polite way to finish off the food she’d left behind. The lady was getting to him. Zac grudgingly acknowledged to himself that he wasn’t accustomed to this level of uncertainty around a woman.

  It seemed to him that he’d been alternately irritated, possessive, uncertain, and exhilarated since he’d first encountered Guinevere Jones a few weeks ago. The first time he’d gone to bed with her, he’d been aware of a feeling of rightness that he couldn’t begin to explain in words. So he hadn’t tried. Their relationship was at a very tentative stage. It could not yet be characterized as an affair, although Zac knew he would be irrationally enraged if he found out she was seeing another man. But surely they had more than a casual dating arrangement. At least, it felt like more than that to him. He’d like to get to the point where he could say he was having an affair with Guinevere Jones, Zac thought. The words sounded good to him. They had a nice, settled, definite quality. But as yet he hadn’t dared say them aloud in Guinevere’s presence.

  Words in general seemed to be a real problem around Guinevere. Bleakly Zac finished his noodles and sat cradling his coffee cup in his large hands. Had he insulted her? He hadn’t meant to. She must know that. He’d only been trying to point out that weekend jaunts with bosses might be frowned on in some circles—severely frowned on by one Zachariah Justis, as a matter of fact. Damn it, he’d only been giving her some good advice. She certainly spent enough energy giving him advice!

  Of course, he reminded himself, perhaps she’d only been attempting to do him a favor. She’d tried to throw a little business his way. He’d been too busy jumping on her for scheduling that weekend trip with Vandyke to pay much attention to the baby-sitting job she’d suggested. Zac stared into his coffee cup and thought about her proposal. Normally the project would not have interested him in the slightest. He had no intention of hiring himself out to ride shotgun for executives who saw industrial spies behind every water cooler. He had deliberately structured Free Enterprise Security, Inc. to be a cut above that sort of mundane operation. His firm was a consulting business. He gave expensive advice, conducted highly discreet investigations, and generally aimed for a sophisticated security image. True, he was still Free Enterprise’s only employee, but someday things would change. In the meantime he didn’t want to jeopardize the image.

  Zac was absently swirling the last of the coffee in his cup and wondering how to go about making amends for insulting her when it struck him that there was one irrefutable advantage to accepting Guinevere’s job suggestion. It would enable him to spend a three-day weekend with Gwen at a classy resort.

  Three days on an island with Gwen.

  Stunned by the implications and wondering foolishly why he hadn’t spotted them right from the start, Zac hurriedly fished out his worn leather wallet and matched the amount Gwen had left on the table.

  Three days at a fancy resort with Guinevere Jones at the client’s expense. It boggled the mind. What was the matter with him? He’d been so damn busy warning Guinevere not to go flitting off with another man that he hadn’t even realized she was offering him a chance to be the one she spent the weekend with.

  There was the unfortunate matter of having to safeguard a development proposal, but in his new excited mood Zac could anticipate no real problem with that element of the situation. The briefcase would be an annoyance, but he could deal with that. He headed back toward his office wondering if Gwen would let him handle the room reservations.

  As soon as he reached the tiny cubicle he rented in the downtown high-rise, Zac threw himself into the new chair he’d bought with the fee from the StarrTech case, reaching for the phone. Guinevere answered on the second ring. Zac half smiled as he heard what he called her office voice—husky, polite, and just distant enough to let the caller know that the lady was professional in every sense of the word.

  “Gwen? Zac. Listen, I’ve been giving your job offer some more thought.”

  The polite quality left her voice, but nothing could banish the pleasant huskiness. “Don’t strain yourself.”<
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  “I’m serious. I’ve decided you’re absolutely right. I can hardly afford to turn down the work. Tell Vandyke that I’ll be glad to baby-sit his proposal.”

  “You will?” She sounded startled.

  “Sure. On one condition.”

  “What condition?” she asked, instantly suspicious.

  “No gold handcuffs for the briefcase.”

  “You want silver or stainless steel?” A thread of humor finally melted the ice in her voice.

  “I’ll just clutch it with my bare hands. Oh, and Gwen?”

  “Yes, Zac?”

  He coughed a little, clearing his throat. “Have you made the reservations?” Visions of sharing a room for three days with Guinevere sizzled through his head. He felt his body tighten in instinctive response.

  “No, not yet.”

  “I could handle ours,” he offered as nonchalantly as possible.

  “You don’t have to worry about that, Zac,” she assured him breezily. “Vandyke’s travel department will handle everything.”

  “Oh.”

  Zac hung up the phone, determined not to let the small setback bother him. He would see this as an opportunity to be creative in the field.

  Sitting in Vandyke’s office, Guinevere stifled the unexpected burst of excitement that threatened to bubble up inside her. This would be a working weekend, naturally, but still . . .

  She gathered her wayward thoughts and got to work on the problem of how to convince Edward Vandyke that Free Enterprise Security was just what he needed.

  Chapter Two

  Late Friday afternoon Guinevere stood at the window of the Camelot Services offices and moodily contemplated the rain that had evolved from an earlier mist. Rain had not been expected to continue into the afternoon, according to the news report. The forecast had been for the morning’s light showers to give way to partial clearing. But in typical Seattle fashion the weather had made its own decisions without bothering to consult the local meteorologists. The guy on the evening news would have a brilliant explanation of what had actually happened. In the meantime everyone on First Avenue below Guinevere’s window was getting wet.