“I can do that. What’s the other question?”
“Are you buying?”
“I’d planned on it,” he said, a smile beginning to cross his face.
“Then you’ve got a date.”
Dan made a fist, punched the air in front of him and mouthed a silent
“I’ve got an appointment near my residence this afternoon. Let me give you my address in Walnut Creek. Where did you want to eat?”
“There’s only one place suitable, in my humble opinion. In Chinatown. The Empress of China.”
“I love Chinese. I’m at the River Oaks Apartments, Unit
“Seven-thirty’s fine, Nicole. See you then, and thanks for allowing spontaneity to prevail.”
“Seven-thirty, then.” She gave him her phone numbers in case he got held up. “I’m looking forward to it, Dan. Bye.”
“Thanks, Nicole,” Dan replied, replacing the receiver, leaning back in his chair, and locking his fingers behind his head.
Dan had no trouble finding the River Oaks Apartments, which mirrored the thousands of other Spanish architecture apartment complexes scattered throughout California cities. It was nestled in a grove of Manzanita trees and surrounded by a high-security fence veiled in foliage. The rustic wooden sign out front advertised a pool, spa, training room, tennis courts, and even an on-site film viewing room with a large screen.
After his car was cleared by the security guard who checked Dan’s name against his list of expected guests, Dan read the unit names on each of the buildings and parked the car next to the one marked
Like a schoolboy getting ready for his first date, Dan had wondered what he ought to wear. He and Nicole hadn’t discussed it, and he hoped his slacks, sports coat, and buttoned-up, open necked shirt wouldn’t be too casual. He was relieved to find Nicole informally dressed as well, and pleased to see that she apparently knew the vagaries of weather they might encounter in the city, since she was carrying a jacket on her arm.
Remembering her in a navy-blue business suit from their first encounter under the bridge and her professional demeanor, Dan now saw her in a different light, relaxed, jovial and in fact, beautiful. Since their previous meeting, Nicole had cut her dark hair and was wearing it in an attractive, shorter style that flattered her face. Flat shoes, for walking, he assumed, and a long-strap purse completed her outfit, which Dan found flattering to her athletic body. While opening the car door, Dan caught a whiff of the pleasant, subtle fragrance she was wearing and wondered what it was called. He stifled a passing thought.
It was only a six-minute drive from her apartment to the BART station, where, after a short wait, they caught the next train to San Francisco. At eight o’clock in the evening, the commuter rush was over, and the train was nearly empty with only two other couples sharing their car. Initial chitchat consisted of comments mainly about Nicole’s apartment complex and Dan’s condo in Davis. They were silent as they passed though several above- ground BART stations on the Oakland side, with passengers entering and leaving at each stop. Dan watched Nicole’s reflection in the train window until her reflection smiled at him, and he became aware that she was familiar with his surveillance technique.
“Caught me.” He laughed. “But I presume, based on your acceptance of this dinner offer, that I am neither a suspect, a material witness, a person of interest, or even an investigative source any longer.”
Nicole looked at Dan for a moment, a smile growing on her face. “Whether you are
“Nope, you agreed. It’s Dan.”
“Okay. So,
Dan looked at her with surprise, and Nicole smiled all the more. “I confess, I’ve done my homework. All in the performance of my professional duties.”
“Of course,” Dan allowed. “Reciprocity, if you please,” he prodded.
“Norwalk, Connecticut; a B.A. from Vassar in English literature; an M.A. in psychology from Northwestern, and then Columbia Law. Straight into the FBI afterward.”
“That’s a rather impressive bio, Nicole. But why-”
“Why the FBI?” Nicole interrupted, then snapped, “Why not?”
Taken aback, Dan retreated. “Excuse me if I was intrusive; I didn’t mean to be.”
Dan could see Nicole was embarrassed by her sharp response to his question.
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I just hear that question all the time. In one fashion or another, it’s
“I can understand that.” Dan laughed. “The intelligent, attractive part, I mean.” The lights on the train flickered briefly as they entered the tunnel, and their ears popped as the train dropped down under San Francisco Bay.
Nicole continued, changing the subject. “When I was first assigned to work in San Francisco, I was told that the minutes spent under the Bay while commuting to work were the most dangerous I would encounter. I guess that’s right. If the so-called ‘Big One’ were to occur while we’re under here, there would be no hope of getting out alive. I kind of count the minutes I spend under the Bay as the sacrifice I make for being able to live in such a beautiful place.”
Dan thought of the newspaper report he’d read of her instant response to the hostage situation, feeling that being in the line of fire from bank robbers was certainly more dangerous than riding BART under the Bay.
“Have you seen much of California?” he asked.
“Mostly the cities, and usually on business. Al and I. .” she paused and lowered her eyes. “. . Al and I used to take turns driving to assignments so the other could take more time to view the scenery. Al was from Iowa, and while he’d been with the Bureau for fifteen years, he’d only been in California about six months longer than me.” After a pause, she added, “He used to beg me to get take-out when we were out of the office so we could sit in the car by the ocean while we ate lunch. He was awed by the majesty of the ocean.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence until the train exited the tunnel on the San Francisco side of the Bay and stopped at the Embarcadero Station. At the Beale Street Station they got off and made their way up to Market Street, beginning the fifteen-minute walk to Chinatown.
At The Empress of China, on the sixth floor of the building, the maitre ’d found Dan’s reservations and seated the couple at the table Dan had requested, overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. Full dark having descended over the city, the lights on the bridge glowed brightly over the dark expanse of the entrance to San Francisco Bay. It was a spectacular view, and Nicole and Dan gazed at it without speaking while a cadre of waiters scurried about, working to change the settings on the table.
When he could do so unobtrusively, Dan continued to steal glances at the very attractive woman seated across from him. He hadn’t noticed it before, but she was wearing a pair of small silver earrings and a matching thin necklace. The jewelry caught the light from the candle on their table, and the glint framed her face nicely as she sat looking out the window, resting her chin on her folded hands.
Dan was taken-not only by her beauty, but by the way she carried herself. At their previous meetings-at the murder scene, the National Guard Armory, the funeral, and the restaurant-she had been thoroughly professional. Cordial, maybe, or perhaps a bit aloof, especially in General Del Valle’s presence, but each time professional. So far this evening, she had been considerably warmer and more open. He was intrigued by her personality in that she was very self-assured but not arrogant. It was a combination Dan found fascinating. It was very pleasant to sit across from her and to contemplate having her for a dinner companion. He congratulated himself for acting on the impulse to telephone her.
