that the struggle for balance is weighted toward survival, not destruction. You love your husband. Use that love to try to make him see where he is headed. Make him understand that he will not find what he seeks if he is successful in toppling Stonebraker.'
Briana stared at Orchid. 'You're wrong. I don't have the power that you seem to think I do.'
'We all have power, Briana. But not all of us are smart enough to use it. I'm betting that you are.'
Briana stepped out into the hall and slammed the door behind her.
Orchid stood very still for a few minutes. Then she did some deep breathing to help shake off the effects of the tension and energy that flowed through her.
She walked to the window and looked out and down. She saw that Briana had practically flown down the single flight of stairs. The other woman had already reached the sidewalk and was running awkwardly toward a car that was parked at the curb.
A white car.
Orchid's stomach went cold. She peered more closely at the vehicle.
It was a Phase 1000.
'Dear God.'
She whirled and ran to the phone. Punched out Rafe's private number and waited without breathing for him to pick it up. Her heart sank when she heard the familiar click of the answering machine.
'You have reached seven zero seven nine zero nine four. I'm either on the other line or away from the phone. Please leave a message after the beep...'
'Rafe, it's me, Orchid.' She carried the phone back to the window. 'I just had a visit from Briana Culverthorpe. Rafe, listen to this. She drives a Phase One-thousand.'
Outside on the street, Briana sat behind the wheel of her car. She made no move to drive off.
'She doesn't like you very much, Rafe. And I think she would go to great lengths to protect her husband. If she thought that getting rid of you would solve everything she just might . . . Oh, hell. She's getting back out of the car. I think she's . . . Yes. She's coming back upstairs.' Orchid carried the phone back to the desk. 'Got to go. I'll call you again as soon as she leaves.'
The doorbell bonged. Orchid was so startled she dropped the phone. Briana must have run back up the stairs.
'Coming.' She fumbled the phone back into its cradle and crossed the room.
She took a deep breath, composed herself, turned the knob, and opened the door. 'Back so soon, Briana?'
'I've been thinking about what you said a few minutes ago.' Briana clutched her purse very tightly. Her eyes held barely controlled desperation. 'I want to talk to you some more.'
Orchid felt the tension go out of her. It was going to be all right. Briana had made her decision.
Orchid smiled, stepped back, and held the door wide. 'Come in. I'll make coff-tea.'
Briana walked back into the apartment. Turned. Looked past Orchid and out into the hall.
And opened her mouth to scream.
Orchid heard the rush of footsteps behind her. Belatedly she spun around but there was no chance to run.
There were two of them, both dressed in the nondescript green work uniforms of the gardeners who serviced the apartment complex's grounds, and they were headed straight for Orchid's front door.
One of them pointed a small canister in her face. He pressed the button. Orchid was vaguely aware of the second man aiming a canister at a stunned Briana. She heard a hiss. A cold mist enveloped her.
The apartment began to whirl around her.
She leaned into the uniformed man in front of her, groping for the front of his shirt. She felt him take a sideways step to avoid her. She kicked his ankle out from underneath him.
'He said you might be difficult.' The man pressed the button on the canister a second time.
More of the icy mist struck her in the face. A great darkness began to descend on her. She held her breath, but that did not stop the stuff from penetrating the membranes of her eyes, nose, and lips.
The world receded swiftly in a black haze. Her legs dissolved beneath her. Voices came to her out of the gathering shadows.
'What about the other one?'
'She saw us. Better bring her along. He can decide what he wants to do with her.'
Orchid felt the texture of heavy twill beneath her fingertips. The fabric of a gardener's uniform. Someone was holding her while she sank into oblivion.
She fought the effects of the spray with meta-zen-syn concentration techniques while she reached out wildly. She searched for something, anything to leave behind for Rafe to find.
'She's not going under very fast. Still struggling.'
Orchid's hand brushed against a pocket. The meta-zen-syn mental exercises could not keep unconsciousness at bay for more than a few more seconds. She had to find something, anything that would constitute a clue for Rafe.
There was an object inside the man's pocket. A pen? A small flashlight?
She got two fingers into the pocket. The man who held her captive did not seem to notice. She seized an object. Held on tight.
'Bat snake shit. What's it going to take to put her out?'
'The doctor said she was a loony, remember? You know how it is with the crazy ones. Takes more than it does for normal people. Give her another shot of the stuff.'
More mist in the face.
And then she was being bundled through the doorway.
As she was dragged across the threshold, she vaguely remembered to let go of the small object she had taken from her attacker's pocket. She heard it roll lightly on the floor.
She drew a gasping breath.
The darkness closed in on her.
She hoped she would not dream.
Chapter 19
'Take a seat, Mr. Stonebraker.' Thelma Dorling waved him toward a chintz covered chair that was presently occupied by an overweight cat-dog. 'Snooky won't mind.' Thelma flapped her hand at the animal. 'Go on, get off the chair, Snooky. Let the nice man sit down.'
Snooky did not move. He watched Rafe with baleful yellow eyes.
'Just give him a little push,' Thelma advised Rafe. 'Snooky won't bite.' She started toward the kitchen. 'Can I get you a beer? I've got Old Earth Ale and Western Islands Lager.'
Rafe glanced at her. Thelma Dorling was a pretty, young woman with a figure that resembled those of the models featured on the covers of the magazines Rafe had discovered in the bottom drawer of Austen's desk.
He concluded that she either could not find clothes to fit or else she liked her attire a size too small. Her pink blouse strained at the buttons. The skirt rode high on her thighs. It was stretched so tightly across her buttocks that it formed creases at her hips.
It had taken the better part of the day to track down Austen's former receptionist. When she'd finally returned his call, Rafe learned that she had been out interviewing for a new job.
'Thank you,' he said. 'I'll take the lager.'
'Great. I'll be right back. Don't know about you, but I always need a couple of beers after a day of job hunting.' She vanished into the kitchen.
Rafe heard the icerator open and close in the other room. He gazed thoughtfully at the plump cat-dog who was obviously comfortably ensconced with all six legs tucked under him. 'That chair is not big enough for both of us, Snooky.'
Snooky flexed some claws and bared his fangs. A low growl reverberated through the room.
