Zach's Law Read online

Now those shrewd brown eyes waited for a response, and Zach weighed his words carefully. “That was partly what I meant,” he said slowly.

  “But there was more to it.” She glanced around the room, then back at him. “What’re you doing up here?”

  Zach had never been one to trust easily and so he didn’t answer, but merely said, “Put some first-aid cream on your wrists.”

  After a moment she set her cup aside and picked up the tube. Rubbing the cream into her bruised and chafed flesh, she asked, “How long do you expect to keep me here?”

  Zach was pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the small stove. “No longer than necessary.”

  Her eyes followed him as he sat in a chair by the table. “Then you’ll turn me loose? You drowned my car,” she reminded him. “How will I get out of here?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll take you to a town.”

  “You have a car up here?”

  He smiled faintly. “No.”

  Teddy abandoned the possibility of stealing his car. “Well, dammit,” she muttered. The amusement in his eyes irritated her, and she went on aggrievedly, “If you were a cop, I could probably get a new car out of this. You know, official appeasement of a defenseless woman attacked on the roadside by a cop who subsequently trashed her car.”

  He shrugged again, still amused. “Your car was already dead. I just buried it.”

  She stared at him. “D’you have a name?”

  “Zach Steele.” If she got away, he decided, it was all over, anyway—her knowing his name wouldn’t matter.

  “At least you didn’t say John Smith.”

  “I’m a very truthful man. What’s your name?”

  “Theodora Suzanne Jessica Tyler.” She said it with a trace of defiance that was almost automatic.

  He blinked. “Quite a handle. Is there a shortened version?”

  “Teddy.”

  Zach liked that; it suited her, he thought. But all he said was, “I have to do some work, Teddy—mostly inside this cabin. A day, maybe two. I don’t want to have to tie you up or gag you again, but you’ll have to be quiet. And even if you get outside, you won’t know where you are. You could easily get lost.”

  Teddy was slowly recapping the tube of salve and looking at him thoughtfully. “Or I could run into someone who is meaner than he looks?”

  He was a little surprised and wondered if she was simply guessing. “Why do you say that?”

  Obviously annoyed, she said, “I’m not blind.” She nodded toward the rifles and ammunition. “As I understand it, the game up here doesn’t shoot back. And then there’s your handgun—hardly standard hunting equipment. Unless you’re hunting something that walks on two legs and does shoot back. Stop me if I’m getting warm.”

  “Stop,” he murmured.

  “I don’t suppose you’re a modern-day bounty hunter?”

  “No.”

  “Good. The kind of cop that doesn’t carry a badge, maybe?”

  “What kind is that?” he asked neutrally.

  She studied him. “Oh … one who’s undercover. A federal cop, maybe. Or one who’s on a stakeout. That’s equipment designed to listen in on something,” she added with a nod toward the electronic jumble.

  Zach returned her stare, his own growing unconsciously harder, suspicious. “Just where were you headed when your car died?” he asked.

  Teddy couldn’t help swallowing hard, though she managed not to look away from his suddenly icy gray eyes. “Not around here, that’s for sure. I was heading back East to visit relatives.”

  “I don’t suppose you can prove that?”

  Her chin lifted, and her own eyes grew stormy. “No. I don’t suppose I can.”

  After a moment Zach reached into his pocket and began pulling out the papers he’d gotten from her car. He looked through them carefully, all the while keeping an unobtrusive eye on her. She didn’t stir, but those brown eyes were still stormy.

  The papers were the innocent ones found in most cars. A registration slip in her name. A few road maps: California, Nevada, Utah, Colorado. Three years’ worth of inspection slips. Four tattered shopping lists, half a dozen crumpled receipts tangled with green stamps, a dusty mileage log filled with entries and bearing both her name and an unreadably smeared official-looking stamp inside the front cover.

  Zach looked at her for a moment, then reached out a long arm to snag the big leather purse. She never changed expression, but Zach nonetheless hesitated. There was something so damned personal about a woman’s purse, he thought, and he felt ridiculously in the wrong about rummaging through it. Then, to his surprise, he caught a sardonic gleam in her eyes, and she gestured slightly.

  “Go ahead.”

  He had to be certain she wasn’t involved in this; there was too much at stake. Accordingly, Zach opened the purse. Three seconds later he understood her faint mockery. And since he had never in his life opened a woman’s purse, he had to wonder in astonishment if Teddy’s was par for the course.

  The pocket calendar made sense, he thought, as did the hairbrush, compact, and lipstick. He lifted these out carefully and set them on the table. Then, one bit at a time, he lifted out the rest. There was a flimsy string bag, bunched in a knot. There was an overlarge, decidedly bulky leather work-glove—left-handed. There was a small notebook with lined blank pages and three pens clipped to it. There was a dog leash designed to restrain anything up to and including a rabid St. Bernard. There was a folding leather case holding a selection of darts and a small vial of liquid labeled “tranquilizer.”

  Somewhat thoughtfully, Zach buttoned that into his pocket.

  There was an electric bill, stamped paid, a phone bill, also stamped, an address book, two packages of chewing gum, a book of postage stamps, a long silk scarf, a braided leather belt, a toothbrush in a plastic case, a small penknife, a large and crowded ring of keys, a contact lens case, a much-handled deck of playing cards, one pair of sunglasses, and one pair of dark-rimmed corrective lenses—both in cases.

  In the very bottom of the purse, lying in a nest of coins, paper clips, and rubber bands, was a leather billfold. Zach drew that out and opened it. He didn’t bother to check for cash but looked instead for identification. Behind the plastic sleeve containing a picture of Teddy on an elephant were other sleeves holding credit cards, a donor card, a California driver’s license, a Social Security card, several business cards, and an identity card naming Teddy as an animal control officer for the city of San Francisco.

  “Can I go through your pockets now?” she asked politely.

  Zach replaced everything in the purse, then drew out his wallet and tossed it to her in silence.

  She was obviously surprised, but that didn’t stop her from opening the wallet and looking through it. She, too, ignored cash for other things. She found several credit cards—including two major ones authorized to Zach but in the name of a company she recognized, partly because it was constantly in the news.

  “Long Enterprises.” She looked at him quickly. “Joshua Long’s company? You work for him?”

  Zach made a silent mental note to tell Josh he was getting too damned well-known outside business circles—as if he hadn’t always been famous. Or infamous. “Yes. But I’m presently on vacation.”

  After a moment Teddy went back to examining the wallet. A New York driver’s license. Social Security card. A permit to carry a concealed weapon. Identification naming Zach as a security consultant. A donor card. No photos.

  Teddy closed the wallet and tossed it back to him. Detached, she said, “We both know any of this stuff could have been faked. So where did it get us?”

  “I believe you were just passing through,” he told her.

  She was curious. “What convinced you?”

  “I think it was the dog leash.”

  Teddy blinked. “Oh. And what am I supposed to believe?”

  Zach looked at her and quite suddenly wished they were in another place at another time. “Whatever you want to believe
, I guess.”

  She finished her coffee in silence and set the cup aside, trying to read his bland, hard face. It was impossible. His expression was unnerving—but not frightening. Not really. She felt peculiarly safe with this stranger.

  “How long?” she asked abruptly. “You must have some idea.”

  “A week, if we’re lucky.”

  “And if we aren’t?”

  “Then it’ll be longer.”

  Teddy drew a soft breath. “And if I told you that my sister is expecting a call tomorrow to let her know I’m all right?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

  She bit her lip. “Look, my sister is five months pregnant, and she’s miscarried twice. She knows the car isn’t—wasn’t—running too well. If I don’t let her know I’m okay, she’s going to worry.”

  Zach gazed into those pleading eyes and wished for the second time that they were somewhere else. After a moment he sighed himself. “I’ll think of something. For now, why don’t you get some sleep?”

  “I’m not sleepy.”

  He sat back and sipped his coffee, watching her.

  Teddy stirred restlessly. In a tone of foreboding she said, “If you’re the strong and silent type, we’re in trouble. I’m a talker. Silence drives me crazy.” She stared at him, adding sardonically, “Don’t tell me, loose lips sink ships?”

  “Well, they do.” His tone was mild. “As it happens, though, I just don’t have anything to say.”

  “The situation’s getting worse. All right, accepting—not that I do—the fact that we’re not going to discuss what you’re doing here, there must be some safe topic. Ummm … let’s talk about your famous employer. Or is he involved in this thing you’re doing? No, you wouldn’t answer that, would—”

  “He’s not involved,” Zach interrupted firmly. “I told you, I’m on vacation.”

  “Then let’s talk about him.” Teddy clasped her arms around her upraised knees and leaned back against the wall. “The press has been going hot and heavy for months over the possibility that Long has gotten involved with that island dictator. They seem to think he’s about to invest in President Sereno’s country.”

  Zach remained impassive.

  Teddy eyed him. “We’re not going to talk about that?”

  “I’m not.”

  “It violates national security, I suppose?”

  He said nothing.

  With a sigh Teddy said, “You’re worse than a clam. What can we talk about? The weather requires no discussion, and things like politics drive me nuts. What does a security consultant do?” she asked abruptly.

  Zach shrugged. “Consults. Checks out security systems, designs and installs them, solves security problems.”

  “You do that for Long Enterprises?”

  “Yes.”

  Her gaze wandered around the room, focusing on the computer. “You work with computers?”

  “Yes.”

  “I mean, really work with them? Program them and stuff like that?”

  “Yes.”

  Quite suddenly, Teddy snatched up her empty plastic coffee cup and threw it at him. Zach deflected the missile with the quick instinctive reflexes of a fighter and stared at her stormy face in surprise.

  “Did I miss something?” he asked dryly.

  Her only response to the question was a deepening of her glare. “A clam. You’d make a lousy talk-show guest, you know that? One-word answers. Instruct the witness to answer just yes or no, please, Your Honor. We don’t want to waste the court’s time.”

  Zach, who had never gone in much for small talk or social conversation, shrugged somewhat helplessly. “Sorry.”

  Teddy rested her forehead on her upraised knees, and her voice emerged muffled. “I can see this is going to be a long incarceration.”

  She awoke to faint jingling sounds and sat up, rubbing her eyes sleepily and blinking away the morning dryness of her contact lenses. When she could focus, she saw Zach unbuckling a tool belt from around his waist, and watched while he sat down and began removing spiked boots from both feet.

  “Have you been climbing telephone poles?” she asked in a voice still thick with sleep. It was then that she realized he’d been out of the cabin and that she could have escaped. Her disappointment was mild, which surprised her.

  “You wanted to let your sister know you were all right,” he reminded her, hanging his coat on a peg by the door and going over to sit before the computer.

  Teddy pushed away the blankets, wondering if he had covered her and removed her boots after she’d fallen asleep; she couldn’t even remember falling asleep. “Yes, but there’s no phone. Is there?”

  “Next best thing,” he murmured, turning on the computer.

  She got to her feet, stretching, and padded over to stand beside him. She was only partially awake but was still able to understand what he was doing. Access codes. He was using a connection to the phone lines to communicate with another computer. Teddy opened her mouth to comment, then decided there was no earthly reason why this large man should know the extent of her own knowledge.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Leaving a message,” he answered absently, still typing.

  “My sister doesn’t have a computer.”

  “Long Enterprises does.”

  TWO

  A GLEAMING HIGH-RISE in New York City housed the “home base” of Long Enterprises, and the entire fifteenth floor contained what was, in essence, the technological brain of the organization. Every room and office held a computer console, each tied to the central database that Zach Steele had designed. Every worker could request data from the central bank, but various security systems and access codes prevented anyone from gaining access to anything restricted without the proper permission. And only those with top clearance could use computers to call “outside” the system through the telephone lines and via a modem—a practice that even with every precaution taken could leave the system open to tampering.

  Lucas Kendrick, as chief investigator for the company, was one of the few with a top clearance, and he sat now in his office, yawning and drinking coffee, while he watched the blank screen of his humming console. His silvery blond hair bore the appearance of having had fingers run through it several times, and his blue eyes, though sharp, were also a bit sleepy.

  It was just before eight A.M. New York time, on a mild Tuesday morning.

  “Anything?” Rafferty Lewis came in and rested a hip on the corner of Lucas’s desk, holding a cup of coffee and, like Lucas, looking as if he’d been awakened rudely and before he was ready to face the day.

  “Nothing yet.” Lucas checked his watch. “Should be coming through shortly, though.”

  “Any idea where he is?” Rafferty asked him, impatiently brushing back a lock of coppery hair that insisted on falling over his forehead.

  Lucas shook his head. “I only know what I told you over the phone. Tracy was working in the central computer room as usual last night, and she called me because when she checked the mainframe, there was a message flag. Zach wanted me to stand by this morning, leaving my console online.” His voice was low and curiously compelling, a voice that could charm the devil out of hell.

  “I don’t suppose we could trace the call?” Rafferty’s lazy voice successfully hid the fact that he was one of Harvard Law School’s more brilliant graduates—something various courtroom opponents had discovered at their cost.

  “From Zach? No way. He’ll probably have the call routed through so many dead ends that we wouldn’t be able to trace it if we had a month.”

  Rafferty looked at his friend thoughtfully. “Is that why you called me? Because he’s covering his tracks?”

  “Something’s up. And I have this hollow feeling that it has to do with our federal nemesis.”

  “Hagen?” Rafferty frowned. “We haven’t heard from him in months, not since Kadeira.”

  Lucas grunted. “Want to bet he’s found some assignment that just cries out for a
man of Zach’s vast talents?”

  “I wouldn’t waste my money. I do wonder how he managed to convince Zach, though. Josh and Raven won’t be back for another week, right?” He waited for the nod. “I’ll call Sarah a little later and see if she can find out anything. She’s the only one of us in a position to get quick information, since she still works for him.”

  Lucas looked up at him; he seemed especially solemn. “How’s the mother-to-be doing? Is she still serving you crackers in bed every morning?”

  “Shut up,” Rafferty told him politely, but he took a hasty sip of coffee as if to ward off nausea. Then, aggrievedly, he added, “I don’t care if it is a common phenomenon, I could sure do without it. Sarah bounds out of bed looking radiant every morning and eats anything she wants, and I walk around looking like a corpse.”

  Lucas eyed him. “Uh-huh.”

  There was no opportunity for Rafferty to retort, since the computer beeped just then, demanding attention.

  “It’s coming through now,” Lucas said, humor fleeing.

  Rafferty leaned forward to watch the screen, serious as well. “About time.”

  Teddy was hardly aware her forearm was resting on Zach’s broad shoulder as she leaned forward to watch intently. Never very appearance-conscious, she was unconcerned that she had slept in her clothes, that her hair hadn’t been brushed this morning, and that she wore no makeup. And if she’d been told that she looked glorious this morning, she would have been amused and disbelieving.

  Zach had almost said as much to her. After the first contact well before dawn, Zach had waited to give Lucas time to get to the computer in New York. He had been silent, Teddy had been half asleep, so they had said very little to each other.

  Now they could get a message through. She spelled her sister’s married name for him and watched the silent conversation on the screen continue, commenting only, “Isn’t it illegal to use language like that through the telephone lines?”

  Trying to ignore her nearness and the elusive scent that reminded him of a mountain meadow in spring, he said, “Lucas isn’t happy with me, I’m afraid.”

  “Obviously.” She watched a moment longer. “ ‘Just because the boss is in Canada’—who’s the boss? Long?”