Touch of Magic (27 page)

Then lights came on and he beckoned to her, holding the door. He locked it behind them.

"Receiver for a horning device we've got in
Bal
lieu's
car," he said, unlocking and opening an at
taché case that sat on a table. "Reception's better
out here than it is in the main building, and of
course the initial idea was that I'd be out here
guarding you."

All those precautions for nothing, Channing
thought. She met Ellery's eyes and, by the anger
there, knew that as one they were facing an ugly
truth.

"Which one is it?" she asked. "Max or Walker?"

He rested his hands on either side of the attaché case, leaning heavily on the table. His face looked tired.

"I don't know. How could either of them knock
the other out, drive to those rocks, and be back
ahead of us? That had to be
Ballieu
out there – and
he wasn't alone."

"I'd have guessed a small army myself."

He smiled, but only briefly.

"At least two people, judging by the angle of the shots. They had night scopes."

She ran fingers through her tangled hair.

"Oliver?"

"Could be."

The admission stuck in Ellery's throat. Not Oli
ver. Oliver had given him his first field assignment.
Oliver had sprung him from that hospital. Oliver had worried over him at times like a goddamn mother hen.

But when he'd radioed in a little while ago to
report the ambush and get the cars straightened
out, Oliver hadn't been there. Out picking up sandwiches, someone had
said.
He
tried to think on the basis of pure reason,
untouched by emotion, and was grateful Channing
gave him the space, not speaking but waiting. Was
there anything else to incriminate Oliver besides
his absence at almost the same time Ellery had been
dodging gunfire? Any minuscule slip that Ellery
should have noted? Any change in behavior?

Looked at that way, the whole operation was a deviation. It had been uncharacteristic of Oliver to bring in someone totally untrained and unknown,
as Channing was. It was almost whimsical. Ditto the
plan he'd hatched. But then
Ballieu
was behaving
equally out of character if he had a helper, as Ellery
believed now more than ever. Maybe breaking a
pattern when stakes were high wasn't deviation so much as genius, the sort of thing that made a man on either side excel.

"It could be somebody over Oliver too," said Ellery. "If a person knew who to sell it to, that film
would bring enough to tempt anyone."

There was the dilemma. It might be pointless
going over Oliver's head, and he was no longer sure
he could trust the man himself.

"And everyone who's involved right now knew
Yussuf
had contacts?" Channing asked slowly.

He nodded.

"Walker's as tense as a tomcat and flaking out to make those phone calls to his daughter -- suppos
edly. Max's digestive upset could have been faked."

Straightening, he went into the bathroom and
began to wash grime from his face and hands.
Channing
followed to stand in the doorway.

"Max and Walker don't know the whole story, but
if it's Oliver or someone else up the line, then
Ballieu
knows exactly what you're planning," he said.

"Then I'll do something else."

Ellery was fighting a battle inside himself. Let
her, or try to get her out of it? He'd thought his
mind was made up when he'd asked her to help. Seeing her standing there with her growing deter
mination made him waver.

"What's the alternative?" she asked vigorously. "Give up the film? You don't know who you can trust, and you can't outmaneuver
Ballieu
all by
yourself! That's why I'm here now, isn't it?"

He brushed past her, avoiding her eyes. He could
feel his throat contracting. They were just individu
als. What they could accomplish was more impor
tant than either of them. And she understood that.

Out of habit he emptied his pockets, tossing down his wallet and rubbing his thumb across the old gold
watch before he set it almost reverently on the
nightstand. There might be a better way now than
letting Channing do her sleight of hand, but the
only chance to avoid it depended on uncovering the
mole in their midst. Either that or they'd have to
locate -- and get to -- the film.

He opened the drawer and reached under a Gid
eon Bible.

"Know how to load this?" he asked, handing her
the small .38 and a box of ammunition.

She nodded wordlessly. He knew she recognized
the danger now.

"A friend in La Paz insisted on teaching me
once."

"Smart man."

For most of his adult years and beyond, he'd
never let himself need anyone, because as a kid he'd never had anyone. Now his longing to reach for her
was a growing ache. The way she answered his
sharpness with teasing. Her laughter. The way she
looked directly at him and didn't turn away.

He gathered her to him and found her mouth. He
could feel the self-control that had seemed such an integral part of her shattering with his. He wound his hand through the spicy tangles of her hair and
knew this -- this moment -- was one of the reasons,
maybe even the prime reason, he'd never wanted to be involved with her.

His kiss was harder than any Channing had ever experienced. Nothing like Tony. Never had she thrown caution to the wind so defiantly. Her abandonment of all composure frightened her. Yet with
Ellery, as they gripped and held each other, she
knew a total freedom, the certainty of the universe, and her direction in it that had eluded her too long.

Her fingers, pressed tightly against his back, touched the thin leather strap of his holster. In her
other hand, turned carefully away, she could feel
the menacing heaviness of the gun she held. Re
minders that this might never happen again.

She closed out everything but the present moment. This was what it meant being an adult, she
thought, knowing how things changed and valuing
their brief glimmer. It was Ellery who disengaged
himself, still holding her tightly. His eyes fought to hide his vulnerability. He was as shaken by the collapse of discipline between them as she was herself.

"I was right not to want you working on this," he
said slowly. "But for all the wrong reasons." His fingers traced the side of her face. "Come on. I'll walk you back."

She could tell by the tautness of his body that he
wanted to make love to her. She leaned back in his
arms.

"Do you work at insulting me, Ellery, or does it
come naturally?" The teasing caught in her throat.

He shook his head, and she read in the gesture and the hard set of his face a self-denial.

"Chances are at least one of us won't come out of
this. Let's not make it worse."

She remembered the pain of losing Tony. Except she knew now that having nothing to lose was more painful still.

"Nothing's guaranteed. I learned that a long time
ago. But it's not a reason to stop living. It's why
every minute counts!"

For a moment she thought she'd won. His fingers
dug into her. He kissed her again. When he released
her, she saw in the tightness at the edge of his eyes
the discipline it cost him and matched it with her
own. No words were needed between them.

They couldn't allow themselves this luxury. It
would make them both too vulnerable. Responsibil
ity came ahead of personal desires. She'd known it
but had yielded for a moment. Now her eyes tried
to telegraph that she had herself under control. She
didn't want to make things harder. She drew a
breath.

"Well. Do I go keep an eye on Max and Walker, or
what?"

Her voice had an artificial sound. Ellery still
hadn't let go of her arms. He seemed to be rallying
too.

"I don't suppose you've ever been invited to go
over computer forms in a man's hotel room," he
said.

"You'd be surprised what I've been asked to do."

He grinned.

"I'll bet I would. Just remind me never to let you
drive a car of mine."

"I thought you came from money, Ellery.
Changed cars as often as flower arrangements."

"Past tense. Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime."

"I saw a picture of your brother in the paper. He looks like a jerk."

"He is a jerk."

For a moment Channing wondered if she'd been wrong about that flash of urgency she'd felt between them earlier. Still, something had changed, and these words that were inconsequential on the
surface were a part of it.

Ellery stepped away to open a drawer.

"There's some data to comb through that might
put us ahead of
Ballieu
and whoever he's working with," he said, removing a stack of print
outs. "Not exactly authorized, but I brought a computer and used it to get information on all the real
estate that was rented or sold around here in the last
three months. If we could find a place that might have a safe, or a name we recognized, we might be
on to something. It'd go faster with two people."

His eyebrows raised.

Equals. A new stage. Channing pulled a chair
toward the bed, kicked her shoes off, and sat down,
propping her feet up.

"I've always been a sucker for glamour."

He tossed her the top half of the printout and pulled a chair up facing hers. Settling into it, he
tipped back on the rear legs.

"Yeah, well. When the glamour starts to over
whelm you, I'll order coffee."

On the nightstand, the slender hands of Ellery's
old gold pocket watch showed that it was after one
A.M. Whatever success or failure they were destined
for was going to have to come today.

*
  
*
  
*

At three a.m. Henri
Ballieu
rose to wash his face
and slake a raging thirst. Sleep was eluding him.
The scent of success, the moment when the task
entrusted to him would be completed, was too clear
in his nostrils for his nerves to unwind. And the pain
inside him was rising, traveling a new, hot arc from
the spot in his belly to his head. He stood and let
himself experience it fully, its depth, its frequency.
To become familiar with an enemy was to insure
victory.

In darkness he removed the gun hidden under his
mattress, reduced it into assorted parts, and reas
sembled it, satisfied with its perfect cleanness. If a
man couldn't work in the dark in
Ballieu's
occupation, he would not last long.
Ballieu
often rose by night, especially in new surroundings, and sat until his eyes could pick out minute details and his ears
identify the slightest sounds.

His nimble fingers fitted a silencer onto the tip of
the gun, then removed it, testing, checking. There
was no such thing as too much caution. He might
well need to use the weapon several times by the
time it turned dark again and the hired helicopter picked him up with the film in his pocket.