Within Reach (38 page)

“So what does turn you on?”

“Romantically? The quiet times we have together, like now. The talking and sharing.” She leaned forward and gave him a gentle kiss. “Now
that
’s a treasure.”

“Speaking of which, let me finish with my proposal.”

“Your proposal. Right. I’m listening.”

“My friend—his name’s Joe Camarillo—is convinced that he’s located the wreckage of a small liner that sank in 1906 off the coast of Nantucket. He believes there could be up to a million in gold coins aboard.”

“You’re kidding!”

Michael shook his head. “He spent months studying government reports and underwater surveys in the National Archives, and he’s convinced that he’s found the
SS Domini
buried in twenty feet of sand. He and a crew will be diving this summer. We’re welcome to join them if we want.”

“Join them? What would we do?”

“Observe, more than anything. I think I can get an interesting piece out of it. We’ll be following the everyday activity of the crew, interviewing them and, of course, reading anything and everything we can find on the
Domini
.”

“‘We’?”

“You can be my assistant. If you’re interested.”

“You
know
I’m interested, Michael! I’ve never done anything like that!”

“Then you’ll come?”

“I’d love to! But what about my show? I suppose we could tape it beforehand, but it has to be current. I don’t think I can hibernate on a boat
all
summer.”

“No sweat. We’ll be free every weekend. I can drive you back to Boston. You can tape your show. If we’re late getting back, we can take a small cruiser out to rendezvous with Joe’s boat.”

Danica grew more and more excited. “It might work. I’ll have a legitimate reason for avoiding Washington. Not that Blake expects I’ll come during the summer. But my father might ask questions. If I’m
working
, he can’t raise too much of a fuss.”

At Danica’s mention of her father, Michael, who had been fully pleased with the prospect of both working and living with Danica, grew sober. “Has he been making things difficult for you?” All too well Michael recalled the visit he’d had from William Marshall. It had been months ago, and even after he returned from abroad and resumed seeing Danica, he had heard nothing. He often wondered what the senator had up his sleeve and had more than once opened his door expecting to find a pair of thugs waiting to break his legs. It was possible that the senator had backed off and thrown in the towel. Somehow, he doubted it, and that made him nervous—precisely as William Marshall had intended.

“He hasn’t been overly warm,” Danica said, “but then, he and I were never on the closest of terms. He abides my presence. I’m sure in his eyes, I’m a great disappointment.”

Michael knew that William hadn’t dragged out his photographs for Danica’s benefit, and that was some relief. Still, perhaps more subtly, William was making his point. “How do you feel about that?”

“About disappointing him? Not the way I once did, that’s for sure. You were right. I don’t think I
can
please him. He and I function on totally different levels. I like to think that mine reaches higher, to things like personal satisfaction and happiness and love, but who knows. His is just so different.”

“It always has been. What do you think he’ll say when you finally do leave Blake?”

“I already have left Blake, at least for all practical purposes. When the formal break comes, I’m sure my father will be livid. That’s why I’m waiting. When Blake comes to his senses…”

Her words trailed off as, simultaneously, she and Michael thought about the word
if
. But neither of them wanted to consider that possibility, which was one of the reasons a summer working with a salvage crew sounded so good. For Danica, it would be another step away from Blake. For Michael, it would be another tie with Danica.

“Should I tell Joe we’re on?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

Michael hugged her then, appreciating both the commitment she had made and the risk involved. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his love for her was still growing.

fifteen

“h
E CALLS HIMSELF RED ROBIN AND WE HAVE a meeting set for tomorrow!” Cilla exclaimed, beside herself with glee as she opened the door to Jeff. Any reservations she might have had about so freely blurting her news were swept away by her excitement.

Jeffrey stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Red Robin?”

“As in power-and-lust?”

“Ahhhh,
Red Robin
. Very dramatic. Sees himself as another Deep Throat, does he?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure not going to dismiss that possibility. I keep thinking of what he has to say, and my mind starts to whirl. Can you imagine my getting an exclusive on something really big?”

“You’ve done it before. Maybe that’s why he chose you.”

She frowned. “I’ve wondered about that. From the start he asked for me directly. There must be some specific reason.”

“You’re responsible, like he said. Where are you meeting him?” When Cilla hesitated, he scowled. “I’m not looking for a piece of the action, Cilla. It’s just that I have images of Deep Throat and a shadowy garage late at night, and the idea doesn’t thrill me too much. Give me a little credit for feeling protective, and
don’t
tell me I’m being chauvinistic.”

“All right,” she said quietly, realizing that one part of her, the softer, feminine part, liked feeling protected. “I’m meeting him at nine o’clock in a parking lot in Bethesda.”

Jeff easily recognized the address she gave him. “It’s open enough, but it’ll probably be deserted at that hour.”

“I’ll be okay. He couldn’t possibly want to hurt me.”

“What if he’s a sex maniac who’s been leading you on all this time?”

“Oh, Jeff, I doubt it. And anyway, I can’t not go. I can’t risk losing an opportunity like this.”

“You could if it meant you’d be hurt. No story is worth that.”

“I won’t be hurt. If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll bring along a can of mace.”

Jeffrey snorted. “That’ll do a lot of good. He could grab it out of your hand and turn it on you, then rape you and do any number of other ugly things.”

“He
won’t
. Damn it, Jeff. I thought you’d be excited for me. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you after all.”

“No, no, hon. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m worried. Maybe I should go along with you.”

“Yeah. One look at you and he’ll run off without a word. You’re big, Jeff, and you can be intimidating.”

“That’s the point.”

“No, the point is that I want this story.”

“What if I hide in the back seat of the car. You could leave the windows open and yell if there’s trouble.”

She folded her arms over her breasts. “I think you do want in. This is
my
case, Jeff. You have plenty of your own.”

He sensed they were reaching an impasse and didn’t want that. He liked to think they’d come further. Pushing his fingers through his hair, he sighed. “I do, which is precisely why I don’t ‘want in,’ as you so bluntly put it. I simply want to make sure you’re safe.”

“I will be. Trust me.”

“I trust you,” he snarled. “It’s the other guy I’m not so sure about.”

On the one hand, Cilla was determined to go. On the other, she respected Jeffrey’s fears because, indeed, the same ones lurked in a distant corner of her mind. She also—contrary to what she had said—respected Jeffrey’s motives. She wanted to meet him halfway. “What if you were to follow me and park several blocks away. If I had a beeper in my pocket, I could press it if there’s any real danger.”

Jeffrey didn’t have to think about it. “That would make me feel better.”

“Can you get the beepers?”

“Easily.…Cilla? Thanks.”

She suddenly felt totally comfortable with her decision. They had reached a compromise. It was another step in the right direction. Smiling, she nodded. “You’re welcome.”

The parking lot was dark when Cilla pulled into it at eight-fifty-five the following evening. Seeing no other car, she parked, then sat and waited. And waited. Nine o’clock came and went, then nine-fifteen and nine-thirty. By ten o’clock she had the distinct impression she’d been stood up. She waited until ten-thirty, then started her car and sat with it idling for another five minutes before finally leaving.

Jeffrey was sympathetic, though not surprised. He knew better than to remind her of the crackpot theory, and suggested that as a consolation prize she lead him back to her place and take her frustrations out on his body. She liked the idea, and not only because of the guilt she felt in having dragged him along on what had proved to be a washout. He was a wonderful diversion, for a time at least. The following morning, though, she was back at her desk in the city room, staring broodingly at her word processing screen. When Red Robin called her shortly before noon, she had to work at sounding pleasant.

“I waited for you last night,” she said.

“I couldn’t make it.”

“You said your story was urgent.”

“It is. I just couldn’t make it.”

He sounded very nervous. She wasn’t sure how much of it related to his having to call her after he had stood her up. “It’s okay,” she lied. “I spent the time thinking through other stories. Listen, if you got cold feet, you shouldn’t have. I respect my sources. I don’t reveal their names. I don’t even know yours.”

“Red Robin is enough, and my story is better than your others.”

“I want to believe you. That’s why I was there last night.”

His voice grew muffled. “Tonight. Same time. Same place.”

“How do I know you’ll—”

The line clicked and went dead. She quickly called Jeffrey and arranged to meet him at her apartment at seven. But four hours after that, they were back.

“Damn it! That man is incredible!” She savagely threw her purse on the sofa. “Twice in a row—who does he think he is?”

“He thinks he’s a man who has a story no one else has and that you’ll come running when he calls.”

“Well, he’s right. But maybe you were, too. Maybe he doesn’t have anything after all. I was so
sure
. My instincts haven’t failed me like this since…since…since I agreed to divorce you.”

Jeffrey put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “We both blew it that time. It was an emotional issue. This, on the other hand, is an intellectual one. I wouldn’t do any different than you’ve done.”

“You wouldn’t?”

He shook his head. “There’s a chance that it’s a hoax. But if it isn’t, if the guy really does have something big to tell you, he may just be very nervous.”

“He’s a coward, is what he is. Why is he coming to me, anyway? He could go to the authorities.”

“He may feel they won’t believe him, that they’re corrupt themselves. He may be afraid that if he goes to the cops he’ll lose his anonymity. He may believe that the people he’s out to expose have enough power to have him silenced.”

“He may just want headlines,” she sneered.

“Don’t you? I mean, isn’t it
your
byline you want on this thing?”

“Low blow, Jeff. You know I want the byline, but there’s the story, too. Give me credit for a little civic responsibility.”

“I do, hon. I do.” He took her shoulders gently. “Look, let’s just relax. If he calls back, you can put him on the spot. Tell him that you think he’s full of crap and that if he makes another date and stands you up, you won’t accept his calls. Call his bluff. That might scare him more than anything.”

“It might just drive him to a rival paper.”

“No. He wants you. He specifically asked for you. If he’s got something to tell, you’re the one he’ll tell it to. So cheer up. He’ll call back. And if he doesn’t, well, then you won’t have to spend any more nights sitting in a dark parking lot.”

As it happened, there was another night, early the following week, though she didn’t have to sit for long. She barely had time to park her car, turn out the lights and grit her teeth when a dark form materialized on the pavement. Not a car, but a man. She stared, refusing to believe at first that he had actually come. Disbelief quickly changed to excitement when he headed right for her, then was promptly quelled when the professional in her took over. She realized that he was clever to have come on foot, thereby preventing her from catching his license plate, which of course she’d had every intention of doing.

He approached cautiously. She opened her door and stepped out, reassured by the weight of Jeffrey’s beeper in the pocket of her skirt. She remained silent, waiting for Red Robin to speak first,
if
this man was in fact Red Robin.

He came to a halt several feet from her and ventured a hesitant “Miss Buchanan?”

She wanted to say that she didn’t know of any
other
fool who would come here for the third time, but instead she said, “Yes?”

“You’re right on time. Early, in fact.”

The night couldn’t hide Red Robin’s wiry slimness, or his glasses, or the head of dark, curly hair that contrasted sharply with his pallor. Nor could it diffuse his features enough to prevent her realizing that he was, indeed, the man she had seen at the reception so many weeks before.

“I’ve been early each night. I didn’t want to miss you.”

“Look. I’m sorry about that. It’s just that this is difficult.”

“I’m sure it is, Mr.…?”

“Red Robin’s fine.”

She’d had to try, but she wasn’t surprised when she failed. At least the man didn’t look dangerous, she decided. She could probably put up a good fight if he turned on her, unless he had a gun or a knife. But she had her beeper. It was very dark.

She forced her thoughts ahead. “You have something you want to tell me?”

“I think I’ve given you the vague outlines.”

“‘Vague’ is no good. My paper won’t print it.”

“Try diplomatic corps.”

“Still too vague.”

“Try the United States Senate or…or the Cabinet.”

She shook her head. “I need specifics.”