A Coral Kiss Part 29

"I haven't forgotten," she replied, the sensual amus.e.m.e.nt drained from her voice.

Jed cursed himself for bringing up the subject. He stroked her hair in an effort to soothe her. "Go back to sleep," he said again.

"Jed, I was thinking about that skeleton," she said slowly.

"That's the last thing you need to think about tonight." His words were a little rougher than necessary, and Jed knew it was because the scenes from his nightmare were still hovering at the back of his mind.

"Forget the skeleton. It's twenty-five years old and it can't hurt you now." He wouldn't let it hurt her, he swore silently.

"What if someone else ever found it?"

"No one's going to spend much time investigating a twenty-five-year-old death, Amy. And no one's going to automatically a.s.sume it's Wyman. He went down at sea, remember? No one doubts the story.

If anyone ever did find the skeleton, it would be a.s.sumed that some poor diver snuck into the caves and got lost. He managed to find the ledge but there was no way he could swim back out."

Amy shuddered in his arms. "What a horrible thought."

He smiled wryly. "I just made that little scenario up on the spot. Not bad for an engineer of somewhat limited imagination, huh?"

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you have read too much of Private Demons."

"Could be." He stroked her gently until she fell asleep.

But it was a long time before Jed found refuge in sleep. He lay awake, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about what the woman in his arms was doing to him. His world was shifting on its axis and he didn't know what to do about it.

For the past eight years he had gone from one a.s.signment to the next, never looking back or too far ahead. It was like living in an outtake from a full-length feature film-the past and future portions of the film went on without him. Cutter told him the work he did was important, and to some extent Jed accepted that. They told him there was a need for his kind of soldiering in a world that was in many ways still ruled by the ancient laws of the jungle. Jed was a natural predator. In some ways. He had a talent for the kind of work the agency wanted him to do. From the beginning his senses had adapted easily to the skills necessary for his survival. Too easily, perhaps.

At first he had been motivated by a burning need for justice. He would have done whatever was necessary to get the man who had killed Andy. But somehow he had become trapped by the lethal success of his first mission. There had been nothing at home to keep him from taking another a.s.signment.

And another one after that. Eventually the work became the focal point of his world.

Until Amy entered the outtake he was supposed to be inhabiting by himself.

Amy had befriended him. Then she had become his lover. And then he had realized she needed him.

The closer he got to Amy, the more involved he got, the more Jed realized that she was going to stretch the narrow perimeters of his well-defined world. He wasn't sure what would happen when the bubble of isolation in which he lived finally burst.

He was trapped. He had to get free so he could protect Amy. But only Amy could free him. He was trapped.

Jed went to sleep with the twisted circle of problems still unresolved.

The phone was ringing the next time Jed opened his eyes. He squinted briefly at the morning light pouring into the room and listened to the next jarring summons from the phone. Beside him, Amy stirred and stretched. "Phone," she mumbled into the pillow.

"Yeah."

"Better get it," she said encouragingly as she snuggled down under the sheet.

"I take it I'm elected?" Jed eyed her indulgently as he got up, reached for his pants and padded barefoot toward the door.

"Right. You're elected."

But she was yawning and he knew she would be up in another few minutes. Amy was a morning person.

It was one of any number of her traits he was discovering since they had arrived on Orleana. Fortunately, he was also a morning person. Jed fastened his pants as he went down the stairs. He managed to capture the phone on what must have been the sixth or seventh ring.

"Say hey, Glaze, I was just about to give up on you. How's it going out there in paradise?"

Jed yawned. "h.e.l.lo, Faxon. It's about time you called."

"Geez, all I ever get are complaints."

"Some people are born to collect complaints."

"Uh huh. And some people are born to hand them out, I suppose. Well, we also serve who only sit and stare at a computer screen. Are you interested in learning a few pertinent and amusing facts about one Michael J. Wyman or would you rather spend the government's telephone money complaining?"

"It's a temptation to waste a little government money, but I'll take option number one." Jed walked toward the window, trailing the long telephone cord behind him. "Give me what you've got on Wyman."

"Well, to begin with, he's supposed to be dead."

"I knew that much."

Faxon was obviously crestfallen. "You did? Why didn't you tell me? You didn't bother to mention that little fact when you called. Do you have any idea of how hard it was to start pulling records when I didn't even know the guy was dead?"

"Sorry, Faxon. My mistake."

"That's why you're in fieldwork rather than internal operations, I suppose," Faxon grumbled.

"You're probably right. Fill me in on the rest. I'm waiting with baited breath." A small sound on the stairway made him turn around. Amy was walking down the steps, pulling her kimono sash tight as she did. She was listening intently. She looked so good in the morning, he thought.

Faxon's voice was a little thin over the line. "For starters he was, as you said, partners with Slater in a West Coast aeros.p.a.ce firm that had a lot of government contracts. Some of the work was cla.s.sified as confidential and some was secret. Clearances were run on a lot of the staff, including Wyman and Slater.

Do you know how tough it was to dig up those old clearance records, Glaze?"

"No, but I'm sure you'd tell me if I gave you the opportunity. However, I'm not going to be that dumb.

Just give me the results."

"That's another problem with you field types. You're only interested in the final data. You don't give a d.a.m.n about what it takes to retrieve it."

"Tell Cutter I said you should get a raise."

"I'll do that. By the way, Cutter has a message for you. Remind me to give it to you before we hang up."

Jed was suddenly irritated. "This was supposed to be between you and me, Faxon. It's private business.

Did you tell Cutter what I was asking you to do?"

"Nope. Just told him you'd called to check in and say you were healing. That's it, I swear. Why? Is this stuff that sensitive?"

"No, but it's no longer government business and I'd just as soon keep the Feds out of it. Go on with the report."

"Well," Faxon continued, his voice businesslike, "Slater pa.s.sed his clearance with flying colors. Interesting military record, by the way. Seems he did some small jobs for Intelligence while he was stationed in the Pacific. Nothing major, but he had some training and he was reliable. Wyman, on the other hand, was a different story."

Jed c.o.c.ked a brow at Amy as she came toward him. "I'm listening."

"The guy was brilliant. Probably a genius. He was also a sports freak. Sailing, scuba diving, skiing, flying, surfing, you name it. According to the clearance report, he was lucky in love, too. Never lacked lady friends. Had a problem with money, though."

"What kind of problem?"

"Chronic lack thereof. But then, who isn't a little short?" Faxon asked generously. "In Wyman's case it was cause for some minor questioning. The operative in charge of conducting the clearance raised the issue as a potential source of concern. Sailboats, private planes and ladies didn't come cheap even then, I guess. The matter was discussed, but it was noted that there was no real problem at the time. If Wyman wanted to live at the end of his credit limit, that was his worry."

"All right, he got his clearance, so I a.s.sume there were no major questions raised about risky a.s.sociations. No drinking problems? Drugs?"

"Not from what I can tell. As you say, he got his clearance."

"Then give me what you've got on the private side," Jed said. "What about women?"

"I didn't get any help from the clearance report," Faxon said, "but I am not a man to give up easily. I knew you'd want service above and beyond the call of duty."

"Did I get it?"

Faxon groaned. "Unfortunately, I owed you an especially big favor. Yeah, you got your service. Based on the old addresses and other data I got off the clearance form, I went looking for the usual things: birth certificates, marriage licenses, military service records."

"Any marriages?" Jed asked suddenly.

"No, but there was a rather long-term a.s.sociation with a woman named Vivien Anne Renner. She died a little over a year ago."

"Children?"

"She had a son."

Jed closed his eyes, thinking carefully. "Name?"

"First name is Daniel. He'd be, let's see..." Faxon hummed to himself as he worked on his computer.

'Twenty-six now. By the way, Wyman is listed as the father on the birth certificate, but Daniel apparently uses his mother's last name. As I mentioned earlier, his parents were never married. Judging from the date of Wyman's death, it looks like the boy probably never knew his dad."

"What happened to Vivien Renner?"

"Booze and pills."

"And her son?"

"He works in a stock brokerage firm in L.A. That's about all I've got on him. I wasn't sure how far you wanted me to go in that direction."

"Anything else on Wyman?" Jed braced himself with one palm against the windowsill. Amy was standing beside him, studying his expression. He could feel her frustration at hearing only one side of the conversation.

"I'm not sure," Faxon said slowly.

"What the h.e.l.l's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm not sure. I told you he got his clearance without any real problem, but the cross-referencing program turned up a mention of something called the Orleana Project. That clicked because that's the name of the island where you're staying. I tried running a query on the project, but so far I haven't gotten any answers. It looks like it's non-computer accessible archive material."

"What's that mean?" Jed asked impatiently.

"It means that no one's ever entered the material into the computer data bases I'm searching." Faxon was obviously disgusted at the very notion of anything remaining in hard-copy. In his dream world, all data-however obscure-was in a computer data base somewhere and could, therefore, be accessed by anyone blessed with his superior capabilities. "It means that the stuff's still in hardcopy somewhere in somebody's central files."

"Whose central files?"

"Ah, the sixty-four dollar question. It's going to take some digging. The computer is a nice, neat, silent way to ask questions, but once I have to start going through real people I won't be able to guarantee privacy. I thought I'd better let you make the decision. You want me to make some inquiries?"

Jed hesitated. "Not yet. I will if I have to, but I'd rather avoid it if I can. Go ahead and give me Cutter's message."

"Our esteemed high honcho boss wants me to inform you that he's found out what went wrong on your last a.s.signment."

Jed grunted. "Better late than never."

"I understand things were a wee bit close for you last time out." Faxon cleared his throat. "I a.s.sume everything vital is still functioning?"

Jed glanced at Amy. "I get by. Give me the rest of the message, Faxon."

"Sure. In a nutsh.e.l.l, Cutter has a lead on the guy who sold you out to those two jokers who got you in that alley. He says he wants you to go in and make sure we've tagged the right guy. Once you've made sure, he wants the situation cleaned up. He wants all this done ASAP, naturally. The man's a menace.

Cutter wants to know when you're going to be ready to finish the job you started."

A curious tension unfurled in Jed. Suddenly he couldn't take his eyes off Amy's questioning gaze. She couldn't possibly have overheard what Faxon had said, but he knew she sensed the change in the conversation. She knew that what Jed was talking about now concerned his job.

"Tell Cutter-" Jed began, but Faxon interrupted to finish his message.

"Cutter also said to tell you that this doesn't just involve you. The guy who sold you also made another sale last week."

"Who?"

"Ramsey and d.i.c.kens."

"s.h.i.t." Jed gripped the phone more tightly. "Either of them make it out?"

"No. They're both dead. Cutter thought you'd be interested."

"Cutter's right." Jed's eyes were still on Amy. And he was trapped.

Amy, what am I going to do? What have you done to me?

"So, do I tell the old man you'll be back at work a little sooner than planned?"

"Tell Cutter I'll sell the salesman for him, but I need a few more days in paradise."