Fair Game (22 page)

He took the box back to his apartment and stayed up half the night playing with it, learning what it could and could not do, especially studying its ability to copy information from other disks. He read the manual from cover to cover, and finally went to bed about three a.m., his eyes aching with the strain of reading the display terminal.

When the time came to use the knowledge he had gained, he would be ready.

Chapter 6

For the next three weeks, Ransom pursued Meg with the apparent single-minded determination of a man in love. Lunches and dinners segued to country drives and concerts and long walks as he gained her confidence and her trust. She was falling for him, as they all did, and falling right into his plans.

One evening, as he was driving to pick her up in a town called Lowalla, he pulled over to the shoulder of the road and flicked on his dashboard light. He consulted his map again and made sure of the route, but then, as the traffic flowed past him on the left, instead of pulling back into it, he remained sitting motionless in the driver’s seat. He rested his folded arms on the leather-clad steering wheel, lost in thought.

Things were not going exactly as he had anticipated. Technically, everything was right; Meg was shaping up nicely, he had learned the computer in short order, and it was just a matter of time before he got to it and found out what he needed to know. There was only a brief period left in the Senator’s tour, but he felt confident of his ability to accomplish his mission; the plan was building to a climax, as it always did, and that was fine.

For the first time in his memory, he was the problem.

It was bothering him that he was using her, and that was new. Her smiles and laughter, arch looks, and witty comments filled his mind when he was trying to concentrate and kept him awake at night. He wanted her, of course, but such desire was a constant with him; this tenderness was not.

And he was afraid there was no other word for what he felt. Unless it was love.

He shook his head, as if emerging from a dream. No, that couldn’t be true. He had never loved anything or anybody but himself. He was almost proud of that fact, the way the monk is proud of his chastity and the hermit proud of his self-imposed isolation. Ransom was not touched by the weaknesses other people contended with, and that was his chief asset. If he had been denied things that most of them had, like family and home and a loving childhood, then he had gained something in return: an unashamed self-interest as a trade-off, justified by the fact that nobody else on earth was interested in him.

Was that changing now? The thought terrified him in a way that no physical force did, and part of him wanted to run from Meg and get as far away from her as he could.

But of course, that was impossible. He was stuck in this situation until he ended it with the Senator’s death. He had never abandoned a contract in the middle of the chase, and he was not going to do it now. His reputation for reliability would be ruined, his future in jeopardy. All because a dark-eyed woman smiled at him in a certain way? No. It was not going to happen.

He sat up straight and glanced over his shoulder, then checked his mirrors. If he stayed here any longer, he might attract the attention of a cop, and that was the last thing he wanted.

He put his directional signal on and pulled back into the stream of moving cars.

* * * *

Meg found Ashley sprawled on the bed in her room, reading a Federal Reporter.

“Fascinating?” Meg asked.

“You have no idea,” Ashley replied dryly, putting the book facedown on the coverlet.

“The Millvale fund-raiser is set for eight next Thursday evening,” Meg announced. “Your stepmother is meeting your dad at the dinner. The others are coming later.”

“If I never hear that word ‘fund-raiser’ again when all this is over, it will be entirely too soon. Can’t we start referring to them some other way?”

“Cattle call?” Meg suggested, and Ashley giggled.

“Will Jim be going with you?” Meg inquired delicately.

“I doubt it,” Ashley replied crisply.

“1 gather the fight was pretty bad.”

Ashley nodded bleakly.

“I noticed that he’s been making himself scarce since the night of the auction.”

“Very astute. We had an argument down in my cabin, and I’m afraid I didn’t handle it very well. I really detest scenes, and he wouldn’t let me alone, making accusations and demanding I answer them when I was so tired I could hardly see.”

“What kind of accusations?”

“About... another man.”

Meg studied her friend, wondering how much she should say.

“Why don’t you just tell Jim how you feel?” she finally asked gently. “It will hurt him less in the long run to hear the truth now.”

“How do I feel?” Ashley inquired dryly.

“You don’t love Jim Dillon. I think you once wanted to, because he fit in and you had similar backgrounds and all of those things that people who aren’t in love believe are so important. But that reasoning no longer applies. The comparison is making that obvious.”

“Comparison?” Ashley inquired, her eyes sliding away from Meg’s. But she knew.

Meg sighed. “Do you want me to play dumb, or do you want me to tell you the truth?”

Ashley winced. “The truth, Doc.”

“I saw a play once in which a character says, ‘The only thing more obvious than two people looking longingly at one another is two people trying not to.’”

“Oh,” Ashley said in a small voice. She cleared her throat. “How long have you known?”

“A while.”

“And you said nothing to me?”

“What is there to say? You’ve got a situation on your hands.”

“Thank you so much.”

“How does Martin feel?” Meg asked.

Ashley shrugged. “Who knows? He doesn’t say much to begin with. He’s here in an official capacity, and up until quite recently he’s been watching me trotting out nearly every night with my ‘boyfriend.’ What is he supposed to feel? It doesn’t exactly make for the romance of the century.”

“He’s going to realize that Jim hasn’t been around lately.”

“I’m sure he has, but he’s been far too reticent to ask me about it.”

“Gentlemanly, you mean.”

“You have to admit that it’s a pretty awkward situation.”

Meg was silent.

“Well?” Ashley said, staring at her.

Meg threw up her hands. “Don’t look at me!”

“Why not? You seem to be doing quite well in the very department we’re discussing. I haven’t wanted to push this, but am I ever going to meet the mystery man who’s been turning your hotel rooms into a floating greenhouse? We never get to see each other anymore. Every free minute that you have, you’re off someplace with him.”

“You’ll meet him soon,” Meg said, coloring faintly.

“Isn’t he coming to Millvale?”

Meg shook her head. “He has a business trip. He won’t be back until a few days afterward.”

“Oh, too bad. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“You will. I’m going out with him later tonight, but you’ll be gone already.”

“That’s okay. We’ll get together when we can arrange it. Where are you going tonight?”
 

“To the movies. There’s a retro house a few blocks from here, and it’s showing Notorious. I saw the marquee when we drove into town. I’ve never seen the film on a wide screen, only on TV.”

“That’s a real three-hanky weeper. Better bring a box of Kleenex; your contacts will wash right out of your eyes when Cary Grant saves Ingrid in the end. And what’s this with the movies? He was taking you to so many expensive night spots you were running out of clothes to wear. What happened?”

“I’ve been encouraging him to tone it down a little. I really prefer simpler pastimes, you know that.”

“If he thought a big night out was a pizza in a bowling alley, you’d be complaining.” Ashley grinned.

“I don’t think so,” Meg said, smiling back. “I’d enjoy his company anywhere.”

“Ah-ha, like that, is it?” Ashley sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“It is.”

“Did you see Martin outside?” Ashley asked.

“Yup. Your father is taking a nap, so he and Capo are in suspended animation.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Reading the
Times
. Sports section, I think.”

Ashley received that news in perturbed silence.

“Then again, he may have a woman stashed in one of the rooms down the hall. I didn’t check.”

“That is not funny, Margaret.”

“Why don’t you go out and talk to him?”

“I’m not going to hang out in the corridor, chatting like a schoolgirl with a pass from study hall.”

“You’re right. It’s a much better idea to sit in here and stew,” Meg said innocently.

“I’m not stewing, I’m reading.” Ashley picked up her book and waved it in the air.

“I’m convinced,” Meg replied. She turned to go and added over her shoulder, “Ladies Auxiliary luncheon at one tomorrow. Don’t forget your white gloves and pillbox hat.”

Ashley fell flat on the bed and put her hands over her ears.

“I knew that would cheer you up,” Meg said in parting.

Ashley watched her go, then picked up her book again, determined to work.

Meg stepped into the hall and confronted the two policemen, who were still reading the newspaper. Martin looked up briefly, then continued to read, while Capo caught her eye and said, “Stepping out tonight again, Meg?”

“If that’s all right with you, Anthony,” she said briskly, putting her hands behind her back and regarding him with a piquant, schoolmarmish gaze.

“Same guy?” he inquired.

“Yes, the same guy.” She held up one hand in warning. “I know. You’re about to tell me I shouldn’t be going steady at my tender age. I promise I won’t get pinned until at least my sophomore year.”

“I don’t know, Meggie,” Capo said, shaking his head. “Next thing you know you’ll be married. Kids, diapers, Little League, a van and a collie, the whole shot. Then what will the Senator do?”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll worry about that when the time comes,” Meg replied dryly.

“How come we never see this guy?” Capo asked.

“I imagine because he’s an undercover agent,” Meg replied.

“Stranger things have happened,” Capo said airily.

Martin, accustomed to the banter between these two, was ignoring the exchange.

“Stow your police paranoia for once, won’t you?” Meg said as she moved on down the hall. “He’s a real estate agent. I call his office all the time.”

“Somebody has to sub for your father when he’s not around,” Capo called to her retreating back.

She made a face at him over her shoulder and then disappeared into her room.

Capo sat staring after her thoughtfully for a while, then said, “Hey, Tim.”

Martin looked over at him.

“You notice how we never see the boyfriend?”

“What? Which boyfriend? We’ve got a few of them running around here.”

“Meg Drummond’s. We never see him.”

“You want to get something going with him, Tony?” Martin asked, folding his paper.

“You know what I mean. He always picks her up in the lobby, drops her off at the elevator wherever we’re staying. She’s been going out with him for a while, and we’ve never even seen him.”

“So what? Maybe she doesn’t want to march him past us like he’s a prize bull on display. I can’t blame her.”

“But didn’t he show up about the same time we did? Isn’t that a coincidence?”

Martin shrugged. “I really don’t know how long she’s been going out with him.”

“I still think it’s funny,” Capo muttered.

“You’re just jealous. You can’t have her, but you don’t want anybody else to have her either.”

“He sells real estate,” Capo grumbled, shaking out his paper.

“Who?”

“The boyfriend.”

“Lots of money in that,” Martin observed.

“My uncle Louie sells real estate. He has all these plaques hanging in his office totaling up how many millions he’s sold each year.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“You don’t think she’s dating Uncle Louie, do you?”

“I don’t think so, Tony.”

“It sure would be news to Aunt Angelina.” Capo scanned the headlines and then added, “The guy is probably balding, with a paunch, wears glasses, a real loser.”

“Probably,” Martin agreed, humoring him.

“I’m going to try to get a look at him,” Capo concluded.

“You do that.”

Both men resumed reading.

* * * *

Meg was ready early that evening, and sat in her room thinking about the night ahead. She was wearing a cherry-red knit sweater and skirt. Ransom seemed to favor red; he always complimented her when she wore it.