Zinnia

He was still suffering aftereffects from the focus link, he decided. He would have to be careful. Very, very careful.

'I had a really bizarre day, as a matter of fact,' Zinnia said into the phone. 'I'll tell you all about it the next time I see you. Thanks. Yes, I promise. I'll check my calendar in the morning. Good night, Duncan.'

Nick watched her hang up the phone. 'Good friend?'

'A friend. His name is Duncan Luttrell.'

Nick made the connection swiftly. 'SynIce?'

'Do you know him?'

'Not personally.' Nick summoned up an image of a big, good-looking, confident man. 'But I know who he is. He gets a lot of business press. And I've seen him at Chastain's Palace a few times. Strictly a recreational gambler. Doesn't get into deep play.' But Luttrell usually won when he played, Nick reflected. Even when the stakes were penny-ante.

'Duncan would never gamble heavily.' Zinnia's smile was a little too sweet. 'He likes money, too, just as you do, but he prefers to earn it the old-fashioned way.'

'Meaning he works for it and I don't?'

'I'm sure running a casino requires all sorts of executive ability. But I suspect your corporate style is somewhat different than Duncan's.'

Amazingly, Nick managed to hang on to his temper. 'Are you and Luttrell serious?'

'You mean, are we having an affair? No.' She grimaced. 'My relatives would dearly love us to get more closely involved. Aunt Willy reminded me just this morning that in certain social circles, marriages are sometimes made for what she likes to call family considerations.'

'You mean, she wants you to marry for money and position.'

'Let's just say she'd like to see the Spring family restored to what she considers its proper station in the world.'

'But you're digging in your heels.' Nick felt his spirits rise. His best ally in this new battle was Zinnia's own stubbornness.

'With the exception of my brother, none of my relatives is particularly concerned with whether or not Duncan and I would be happy together. They see marriage to him as a way to recoup the family fortunes.'

'How does Luttrell feel?'

'I don't know,' she said. 'I've never asked him. But he's a smart man. No intelligent person would consider marrying a woman who has been declared unmatchable.'

'He'd probably be real happy to consider an affair,' Nick muttered.

She blushed. 'Maybe. But that's not any of your business, is it? I'm sure you're not interested in my personal plans. All you care about is the Chastain journal.'

'And all you care about is finding Morris Fenwick's murderer. It seems to me, we're back to Plan A.'

'Plan A?'

'The one where you and I work together.'

'Together?' Her mouth kicked up at the corner. 'Surely you jest, Mr. Chastain. I thought you had concluded that I was a conniving little scam artist. Why on St. Helens would you want to work with me?'

Nick felt the heat rise in his face. He wondered if he was turning red. 'I've changed my mind. I don't think you were in on the scam.'

'Really? Tell me, what brought about that grand cognition? Did you utilize your phenomenal matrix-talent to deduce that I'm innocent? Or was it my naive charm and big blue eyes.'

'Silvery,' he corrected, without thinking.

She blinked. 'What?'

He felt like a fool. 'Your eyes aren't really blue. They're sort of silvery.'

She raised her gaze to the ceiling. 'Trust a matrix to fuss over details.'

'Look, I admit that I was annoyed when I realized that I'd been conned. It was logical to assume that you'd been involved.'

'Logical, my Aunt Willy's left foot. All that happened was that you finally calmed down long enough tonight to use some common sense. You've no doubt realized that I'm not stupid enough to risk cheating the notorious Nick Chastain out of fifty thousand dollars and then hang around my apartment waiting for him to find me.'

'I figure Polly and Omar pulled a fast one on both of us.'

'Brilliant deduction.' She contemplated him with narrowed eyes. 'So tell me why you want to work with me?'

'Simple. We can help each other.'

'Hah. Don't give me that. You don't have any real interest in finding Morris's killer. All you want is the journal.' She smiled grimly. 'I know perfectly well why you suddenly want us to be partners.'

He folded his arms. 'Is that so? Why?'

'Simple. You're afraid that I'll cause problems for you if I continue my investigation on my own. My blundering around could interfere with your own strategy. And now that I know you're a matrix-talent, it follows that you do have a strategy.'

'I don't want you poking around on your own because it could be dangerous,' he said patiently.

'That's not what's worrying you. The real problem so far as you're concerned is that I'm a loose cannon. An uncontrolled element in the matrix. You want to keep tabs on me and you've decided that the easiest way to do that is to pretend we're partners.'

'It wouldn't be a pretense.'

'Oh? What's in this for me, partner?'

'I told you that first night, I've got connections on the street.'

'No offense, Nick, but I don't see you sharing information very readily. Not your style.'

'Because I'm a matrix and all matrix-talents are secretive?'

She raised her wine glass in a salute. 'That's one good reason.'

He tapped a finger on his forearm while he considered the challenge. Then he reached for the phone and punched in a familiar number.

It was answered on the first ring.

'That you, boss?' Feather was not given to polite preliminaries.

'Yes. What have you got on Polly Fenwick and Omar Booker?'

'Looks like they moved fast last night. Must have had their bags packed and in the car when they met you in the park. Their house is locked up tight. Yesterday they told the neighbors they were going on vacation.'

'Keep on it. They've probably left the city-state. Ask our friends in New Vancouver and New Portland to keep an eye out for them.'

'Right, boss.'

Nick hung up the phone and glanced at Zinnia as he punched in another number. 'Polly and Omar were packed and ready to leave town before they met us last night. Looks like they had a plan, too.'

She frowned. 'They either knew the journal was a forgery or Morris's last instructions really did scare them.'

'Yes.' Nick broke off as the second call was answered. 'Stonebraker? This is Chastain. I need a favor.'

'I don't do favors, you know that.' Rafe Stone-braker's voice was that of a man who lived in shadows. It was laced with a bleak, cynical ennui. 'I have bills to pay, same as everyone else. And you, of all people, can well afford my services. What are you looking for?'

'The name of a very, very good forger.'

'How good?'

'Good enough to create a fake copy of Bartholomew Chastain's journal from the Third Expedition.'

'When you say good enough, do you mean good enough to fool you?'

'For a while, yes. It took me almost an hour of close analysis to be certain that I had just paid fifty grand for a fake. And I doubt that I would ever have figured it out if I had been something other than . . . what I am.'

'A matrix?'

Nick was aware of Zinnia watching him. 'Yes.'

'You're right.' Rafe sounded marginally more interested in the problem now. 'There are very few craftsmen