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Authors: Jayne Castle
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games, math programs, and several labels with titles in such obscure abbreviations that neither Zac nor Guinevere could guess what they meant.
"He's really into this home computer thing, isn't he?" Zac observed.
"Cal's brilliant. Don't forget he's the one who designed the inventory control program that turned up the problem of stray equipment shipments." Guinevere leaned closer to study the labels on the disks.
"I didn't know that. Damn it, Gwen, that's the sort of thing you're supposed to be reporting to me while you gobble down those expensive lunches you're conning me out of."
She tilted her nose, mildly surprised. "Sorry. Didn't realize you weren't aware of it. Does it matter?"
"At this point I don't know what matters and what doesn't. Kindly don't leave out such details in the future."
"Are you always this short-tempered when you're doing something illegal?"
With obvious effort he ignored the question. Instead, he continued to flip through the labeled disks. "Here you go," Zac finally murmured as he came to one that carried a hand-lettered label." 'Elf.' Think that's it?"
"Probably. Why don't I just take it with me? I know Larry would probably be glad to have it, and he and Cal are friends. Even if Cal gets back and finds out it's missing, he won't mind when he discovers Larry's the one who's got it."
"Forget it. We're not lifting anything. Our only goal tonight is to have a look around." With a grim snap Zac shut the plastic box and started opening desk drawers.
His authoritarian decision angered Guinevere. She was already aware of an unnatural tension assailing her senses because of the night's activities. Zac's short, crisp orders were not helping the situation or her nerves.
"I still can't figure out why in hell you brought me along. You keep telling me not to touch anything, and you won't let me take anything. For crying out loud, why didn't you just come out here alone? And don't give me that business about using me as a communicator in case Cal shows up!"
He half smiled in the darkness, bending over a drawerful of chewing gum packages, pens, and felt markers. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"
A new kind of apprehension made Guinevere whisper, "Figured out what?"
"I wanted you along on this little job tonight because it sort of cements our relationship."
She stared down at his dark head as he carefully flipped through a stack of folders. "Cements our relationship?" she asked ominously.
"Ummm. You're committed now, lady. You're an accomplice. I may not know much about management psychology, but I do know something about what happens between two people in cases such as this. They come out of the experience feeling they have to stick together for a while. A sort of partners in crime mentality. I wanted you involved, Gwen. Really involved. That way you're more likely to stay loyal to me."
It was probably the insufferable streak of arrogant satisfaction in his words that made Guinevere wait until he'd gone into the kitchen to check closets before she unobtrusively lifted the Elf game disk. She was very careful to shield her fingers with a tissue when she opened the plastic box and removed the thing.
It was no trick at all to drop the small object into her shoulder bag.
One had to vent one's hostilities against management somehow.
Chapter Four
The dark, heavily paneled hotel bar wasn't as cozily chic as the pub where Zac had found Guinevere the previous evening, but somehow it seemed more real in some ways. People here didn't play at wheeling and dealing; they really were wheeling and dealing. This was a place for refined, serious drinking by members of the upper echelons of the business class, both local and out of town. There wasn't a lot of lightweight beer and white wine sold here. The folks in dark pinstriped suits preferred real drinks: scotch, whiskey, martinis, and the occasional Manhattan. This was a place to have cocktails: before-lunch cocktails, after-lunch cocktails, early-evening
"He's really into this home computer thing, isn't he?" Zac observed.
"Cal's brilliant. Don't forget he's the one who designed the inventory control program that turned up the problem of stray equipment shipments." Guinevere leaned closer to study the labels on the disks.
"I didn't know that. Damn it, Gwen, that's the sort of thing you're supposed to be reporting to me while you gobble down those expensive lunches you're conning me out of."
She tilted her nose, mildly surprised. "Sorry. Didn't realize you weren't aware of it. Does it matter?"
"At this point I don't know what matters and what doesn't. Kindly don't leave out such details in the future."
"Are you always this short-tempered when you're doing something illegal?"
With obvious effort he ignored the question. Instead, he continued to flip through the labeled disks. "Here you go," Zac finally murmured as he came to one that carried a hand-lettered label." 'Elf.' Think that's it?"
"Probably. Why don't I just take it with me? I know Larry would probably be glad to have it, and he and Cal are friends. Even if Cal gets back and finds out it's missing, he won't mind when he discovers Larry's the one who's got it."
"Forget it. We're not lifting anything. Our only goal tonight is to have a look around." With a grim snap Zac shut the plastic box and started opening desk drawers.
His authoritarian decision angered Guinevere. She was already aware of an unnatural tension assailing her senses because of the night's activities. Zac's short, crisp orders were not helping the situation or her nerves.
"I still can't figure out why in hell you brought me along. You keep telling me not to touch anything, and you won't let me take anything. For crying out loud, why didn't you just come out here alone? And don't give me that business about using me as a communicator in case Cal shows up!"
He half smiled in the darkness, bending over a drawerful of chewing gum packages, pens, and felt markers. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"
A new kind of apprehension made Guinevere whisper, "Figured out what?"
"I wanted you along on this little job tonight because it sort of cements our relationship."
She stared down at his dark head as he carefully flipped through a stack of folders. "Cements our relationship?" she asked ominously.
"Ummm. You're committed now, lady. You're an accomplice. I may not know much about management psychology, but I do know something about what happens between two people in cases such as this. They come out of the experience feeling they have to stick together for a while. A sort of partners in crime mentality. I wanted you involved, Gwen. Really involved. That way you're more likely to stay loyal to me."
It was probably the insufferable streak of arrogant satisfaction in his words that made Guinevere wait until he'd gone into the kitchen to check closets before she unobtrusively lifted the Elf game disk. She was very careful to shield her fingers with a tissue when she opened the plastic box and removed the thing.
It was no trick at all to drop the small object into her shoulder bag.
One had to vent one's hostilities against management somehow.
Chapter Four
The dark, heavily paneled hotel bar wasn't as cozily chic as the pub where Zac had found Guinevere the previous evening, but somehow it seemed more real in some ways. People here didn't play at wheeling and dealing; they really were wheeling and dealing. This was a place for refined, serious drinking by members of the upper echelons of the business class, both local and out of town. There wasn't a lot of lightweight beer and white wine sold here. The folks in dark pinstriped suits preferred real drinks: scotch, whiskey, martinis, and the occasional Manhattan. This was a place to have cocktails: before-lunch cocktails, after-lunch cocktails, early-evening
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