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Authors: M Ruth Myers
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drinks and moved on toward the opposite end of the bar to polish glasses. She could almost see the man next to her reining his temper.
"Okay," he said, his voice as low as hers had been and with an edge of hardness she hadn't heard be fore. "It probably wasn't an accident. Want out?"
His directness caught her off-guard. The admission crimped her nerves into tight, chilly bundles. Confronted with the chance to turn her back, to retreat into safety, she let her breath out slowly.
"No. I don't."
He paused with his glass to his lips, surveying her above the rim.
"Because of the doc who got blown up in Beirut?"
Channing's fingers contracted around the stem of her sherry glass. Indignant surprise made her sud denly hate the people who'd recruited her. That was her life, her private pain.
"How much do you know about me?"
He drank gingerly, eyes lowering now.
"Same thing I'd want to know about anyone I had an assignment with. Everything possible."
Deliberately, without answering, Channing downed her sherry. She held its bitter richness on her tongue, along with words she'd like to utter. Maybe she'd relinquished her right to privacy, her right to be a private citizen, when she'd taken this job.
"Look, your personal life's none of my business," said Ellery tersely. "I shouldn't have brought it up."
She shrugged. He was the one with experience. She had to trust that and swallow feelings if they were going to work together. Her life could depend on it. She'd had a moment of doubt when she'd seen him back on the path, unexpected and conve niently near the electrocution. Now his very hardness was making her trust him. Something had al ready gone wrong in this setup, but she didn't think he knew why, any more than she did.
He was studying her, but before he could speak, a young female employee with a china doll's face bus tled in.
"There you are, Ms. Stuart! Mr. Jurgens said to tell you we're going to take extra special care of you for the rest of your stay. We've moved you to one of our best suites. The front desk has the key. Oh -- and your bar tab's going to be on us."
She smiled brightly.
The business-as-usual attitude disgusted Chan ning.
"Jesus! Afraid of a lawsuit," muttered Ellery.
The similarity of his reaction made Channing draw herself in tightly, wary of having too much in common with him.
Serafin , she remembered suddenly. She'd told him to wait in the arcade, and that had been much too long ago. Now, as if summoned by her thought waves, his dark head appeared in the door.
Channing set her glass down, making visual con tact with the boy over Ellery's shoulder.
"Wait a minute," said Ellery as he realized she was about to depart. "We've got things to discuss. What happened out there means something's wrong -- you're at more risk than we'd counted on--"
He turned just as Serafin ducked out of sight.
Channing shook her head, unable to believe El lery would pursue this tonight. Or that it hadn't occurred to him she might already have reached the same conclusions.
"I've had it for one day, Ellery," she said wearily. "If you want to talk, see me at breakfast!"
* * *
In the lodge's main lounge Henri Ballieu leaned easily against a crowded circular bar, awaiting con firmation that the woman working with him had been successful. At its far end the room where he waited had scores of tables and a fair-sized stage on which the second show of the evening was now under way. The glass in Ballieu's hand held the establishment's most expensive brand of Scotch, and from his vantage point he could see through an archway to a hall that led to hotel offices. He recognized the burst of activity when it came. Hotel offi cials scuttled down the hall in one direction, then scuttled back in greater number. They conferred in undertones. Setting down his glass, Ballieu strolled out to find if the girl Khadija had accomplished her task.
By the time he had strolled to the men's room and back, he had overheard
"Okay," he said, his voice as low as hers had been and with an edge of hardness she hadn't heard be fore. "It probably wasn't an accident. Want out?"
His directness caught her off-guard. The admission crimped her nerves into tight, chilly bundles. Confronted with the chance to turn her back, to retreat into safety, she let her breath out slowly.
"No. I don't."
He paused with his glass to his lips, surveying her above the rim.
"Because of the doc who got blown up in Beirut?"
Channing's fingers contracted around the stem of her sherry glass. Indignant surprise made her sud denly hate the people who'd recruited her. That was her life, her private pain.
"How much do you know about me?"
He drank gingerly, eyes lowering now.
"Same thing I'd want to know about anyone I had an assignment with. Everything possible."
Deliberately, without answering, Channing downed her sherry. She held its bitter richness on her tongue, along with words she'd like to utter. Maybe she'd relinquished her right to privacy, her right to be a private citizen, when she'd taken this job.
"Look, your personal life's none of my business," said Ellery tersely. "I shouldn't have brought it up."
She shrugged. He was the one with experience. She had to trust that and swallow feelings if they were going to work together. Her life could depend on it. She'd had a moment of doubt when she'd seen him back on the path, unexpected and conve niently near the electrocution. Now his very hardness was making her trust him. Something had al ready gone wrong in this setup, but she didn't think he knew why, any more than she did.
He was studying her, but before he could speak, a young female employee with a china doll's face bus tled in.
"There you are, Ms. Stuart! Mr. Jurgens said to tell you we're going to take extra special care of you for the rest of your stay. We've moved you to one of our best suites. The front desk has the key. Oh -- and your bar tab's going to be on us."
She smiled brightly.
The business-as-usual attitude disgusted Chan ning.
"Jesus! Afraid of a lawsuit," muttered Ellery.
The similarity of his reaction made Channing draw herself in tightly, wary of having too much in common with him.
Serafin , she remembered suddenly. She'd told him to wait in the arcade, and that had been much too long ago. Now, as if summoned by her thought waves, his dark head appeared in the door.
Channing set her glass down, making visual con tact with the boy over Ellery's shoulder.
"Wait a minute," said Ellery as he realized she was about to depart. "We've got things to discuss. What happened out there means something's wrong -- you're at more risk than we'd counted on--"
He turned just as Serafin ducked out of sight.
Channing shook her head, unable to believe El lery would pursue this tonight. Or that it hadn't occurred to him she might already have reached the same conclusions.
"I've had it for one day, Ellery," she said wearily. "If you want to talk, see me at breakfast!"
* * *
In the lodge's main lounge Henri Ballieu leaned easily against a crowded circular bar, awaiting con firmation that the woman working with him had been successful. At its far end the room where he waited had scores of tables and a fair-sized stage on which the second show of the evening was now under way. The glass in Ballieu's hand held the establishment's most expensive brand of Scotch, and from his vantage point he could see through an archway to a hall that led to hotel offices. He recognized the burst of activity when it came. Hotel offi cials scuttled down the hall in one direction, then scuttled back in greater number. They conferred in undertones. Setting down his glass, Ballieu strolled out to find if the girl Khadija had accomplished her task.
By the time he had strolled to the men's room and back, he had overheard
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