as Darcy passed.
'Then how about for the sake of an American citizen in need? Or did you forget about your loyalty to your country and your fellow citizens while you were sniffing down the kidney pie in old Blighty all those years?'
Darcy stopped midstep and wheeled to face Maddox.
'You certainly know how to relate to people in positions of influence. Heller. I really have no idea why the Marine Corps thought you might be a liability.'
Ignoring the taunt, Maddox thrust the sketch at Darcy. 'This man accosted an American citizen yesterday. He spoke with a German or Dutch accent and told her that he could help her find her missing friend. Recognize him yet?'
Darcy looked at the sketch, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He looked up at Maddox. 'What do you want?'
Maddox lowered his voice to a lethal half whisper. 'What I want to know, American citizen to American citizen, is what the hell the does he wants with Iris Browning'
Iris took a deep breath and dialed the number to St. Ignacio Hospital. If she wanted to find out where Sandrine was, she couldn't afford to ignore any possible leads. And Celia Shore could be a very important one.
The hospital receptionist patched her through to Celia Shore's room number. A male voice answered. 'Yes?'
Iris cleared her throat. 'I'd like to speak to Celia Shore. My name is Iris Browning. She asked to speak to me.'
The pause on the other end of the line was so long that Iris thought she'd been disconnected. As she was about to hang up and redial, the man cleared his throat. 'Who told you Miss Shore wants to speak to you?'
'His name is Maddox. I don't know his last name.'
'It's Heller.' the man said. 'Maddox Heller.'
Iris could tell the man didn't think much of Maddox. She stifled a smile. 'Does Miss Shore want to talk to me?'
'I think she wanted to see you in person.'
'I have a seminar this morning' Iris said, more quickly than she'd intended.
'You're attending the Cassandra Society conference?'
'Yes.' she replied. 'I understand Miss Shore was registered with the conference, as well.'
'You should know that. She spoke the first afternoon.' The man's voice deepened with suspicion.
'I didn't arrive until late the day before yesterday.'
Good grief. Iris thought. Celia Shore was just a celebrity psychic, not the president. The man's defensiveness seemed a little overdone. Then again, the woman had nearly been killed yesterday. A little wariness was understandable.
'Miss Shore will be released from the hospital today. She plans to rest today and then attend the rest of the conference beginning tomorrow. Are you staying at the St. George?'
'Yes.'
'Miss Shore will be in touch ' A soft click ended the conversation.
Iris hung up the phone with a sigh.
Maddox had to hand it to Nicholas Darcy. The RSO had a world-class poker face. 'I have no knowledge of anyone from the CIA working here in Mariposa. Even if I did, I couldn't discuss it with a civilian.'
Darcy hit the final word a little hard, it was the only part of his pat answer that didn't sound as if it came straight from the diplomat's handbook.
'I don't exactly qualify as a civilian.'
'Yes, you do.' Darcy turned dismissively and started walking toward the consulate complex two blocks up the street.
Maddox caught up. 'At least tell me if you've had any complaints about the Hotel St.George or an organization called the Cassandra Society.'
Darcy turned his head at that, a frown creasing his brow. He started to speak but the trill of a cell phone interrupted. Darcy pulled out his phone. 'Darcy.' He listened for a moment. 'Okay. I'll be there in five.' He hung up. 'I have to go.'
'We're not finished here.'
Darcy's cool gaze leveled with Maddox's, 'Yes, we are.'
Grimacing with frustration, Maddox folded the sketch Iris had made and stuck it in the pocket of his trousers. He pulled out his cell phone and tried Iris's room. No answer.
He hung up and straddled the Harley, taking a quick look at his watch. Almost nine. Maybe she'd decided to go to the conference after all.
THE opening session for the third day of the conference started at 9 a.m. Iris was waiting when the doors opened. She took a deep breath and entered the room.
Sharon Phelps and an associate sat at a small reception table at the front of the meeting hall. Sharon erected her with a smile and handed her a name tag. 'Hi again, Iris! I'm so glad you decided to join us for the sessions!'
'Thanks. Listen-did you get a chance to ask anyone about the focus group my friend is part of?'
'I'm pretty sure she and the others are probably at the Telarana facility. It's Dr.Grinkov's research laboratory here on Mariposa. I've never been there, but I think it's somewhere on the eastern side of the island.'
Sharon lowered her voice. 'I came across a list of the people who were invited to join the focus group' She pulled a sheet of paper from the notebook in front of her. 'Don't tell anyone where you got this, okay?'
'I won't. Thanks.' Taking the sheet of paper. Iris left the registration table. She glanced quickly at the list. There were eight names on the sheet.
Sandrine's was there. So was Celia Shore's. But there was no one on the list named Hana. She folded the paper quickly, tucked it into her purse and looked for a seat.
The conference room was set up with several tables lined up in rows. The handful of conference goers who'd arrived early had scattered about the room in groups of two and three. Iris pinned on her name tag and took a seat by herself near the back. She opened the notebook she'd bought the night before in the hotel gift shop.
The few Internet references she'd found about the Cassandra Society had raised a lot more questions than they'd answered. She got that it was a group devoted to paranormal research, with a focus on science. But what were the seminars all about? Was it all lecture oriented, or were the attendees supposed to interact or participate in experiments?
'Excuse me, is this seat taken?'
Iris looked up at the sound of a man's voice and found herself looking into the dark, mysterious eyes of Tahir Mahmoud.
'No, it's not taken.' she said.
He sat beside her. 'Iris, isn't it?'
She managed a smile. 'Nice to see you again, Tahir.'
A sudden wave of hostility filled her chest, as heavy as dread. The soft scrape of chair legs on the floor drew her attention to her right, where Maddox Heller settled into the chair next to her. He gave her a polite smile, a warning in his eyes. She looked back to the front, trying not to show her surprise.
'Did you find your friend?' Tahir asked. 'The one who was missing?'
She glanced at him. If Tahir was aware of the tension that Maddox's arrival had created in her, he didn't give any indication. 'Not yet.'
Tahir started rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. 'I asked about the focus group Ms. Barksdale mentioned last night. Apparently Dr.Grinkov invited a small number of the conference attendees to form a special focus group off campus.' He shrugged. 'Perhaps your friend is there.'
A sudden flood of blackness swamped her, so intense that she almost fell out of her seat. She clutched for Maddox's leg digging her fingers in. Dark emotion coursed through her. It was coming from Maddox.
She let go of his leg, turning her head slowly to look at him. He was staring at Tahir Mahmoud. She followed his gaze and saw a burn scar on the inside of Tahir's left wrist. She looked back at Maddox, but he was staring
