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something a little less potent.”
    For a moment he lost himself in the hazel eyes and confident but curious smile he knew so well.
    “You look like you’re in a trance,” Beth said. “Not wearing your hero’s laurels very well, are you?”
    “My heroics are yesterday’s news, unfortunately. Boys in the office having fun with this?”
    “I wouldn’t know.”
    “Come on, Beth.”
    He had met her years before on a visit to the New York office of the CIA, where they housed office personnel, communications experts, and a huge retinue of computer geeks. Jordan thought Beth was one of the best analysts in the Agency.
    “Al Tamucci started a pool,” she admitted, referring to one of the computer techies he knew.
    “For what? For when I’m going to buy it?”
    “No. For when you’re coming back to work for the Company.”
    “Not likely,” he said.
    She nodded. “How’s Dan.”
    “He’s a tough old s.o.b. He’ll be all right,” he said, then followed that with a quick shake of his head and a faraway look, as if deciding whether to reveal something he wasn’t ready to share.
    Beth recognized the look. “What is it?”
    He hesitated, then said, “Someone broke into my apartment.”
    “What?”
    “I didn’t want to tell you on the phone.”
    Beth’s smile had melted into a look of concern. “When?”
    “Not sure. Yesterday. Last night. Early this morning. They wrecked the place, whenever they were there.”
    An elderly waiter in a dark, red waistcoat came by and asked if the young lady would care for a cocktail.
    “Uh, a white wine, please. Chardonnay, if you have that.”
    “White wine,” Jordan teased. “Here, at the Algonquin?”
    “Please, Jordan, tell me what happened.”
    “All right, but Dorothy Parker must be spinning in her grave.”
    The waiter was still standing there.
    Jordan glanced down at his glass. He said “I’m fine for now,” and the man trudged off to get Beth her wine.
    “I don’t know what happened,” Jordan told her. “I don’t even know if it’s related to yesterday.”
    “That’s nonsense and you know it. There are no such things as coincidences, isn’t that what you taught me?”
    “Did I say that?”
    “Why would they be after you, though?”
    “I don’t know yet.”
    “I thought the problem upstate was just  . . . ”
    “Bad timing? An ill wind? Wrong place at the wrong time?”
    She shook her head. “I wish you weren’t so amused.”
    Jordan took a swallow of the caramel-colored liquor. “I’m not amused,” he said, “believe me. You should see my living room.”
    Beth searched his dark brown eyes for some sign of fear, but there was none. There was only that look of fascination that had always infuriated her so. “What did the police say?” she asked.
    “I haven’t called the police yet.”
    “Why?”
    “I will, but not yet. There are some things I want to find out first.”
    “Jordan, you’ve got to call the authorities.”
    “The authorities? Kind of vague advice there, Beth. Maybe I should call the Company and have them traipsing around my life again.”
    “Maybe you should.”
    Jordan shrugged. “What’s the difference when I call? My couch will still be a goner when I get home tomorrow?”
    “Tomorrow?”
    “I thought going back there today might be a bad idea.”
    “You’re right,” she agreed, then paused. “You can stay at my place. If you’d like.”
    “Thanks.” He lifted his glass again, but didn’t drink. “I wouldn’t want to interfere with any of your plans.”
    “Give me a break, Jordan.”
    He smiled at the sudden flash of anger. “Thanks, really, but I should go upstate today and see Danny, check out what they’ve found so far. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing after that. Maybe I should call an interior decorator.”
    She shook her head again in that disapproving way he found both charming and annoying. “You know, Jordan, I’d feel a lot better if you seemed less entertained and a little more