Live Wire by Harlan Coben Page A

but many, Myron included, smelled a planted story timed, by eerie coincidence, the week before said starlet’s big movie opening. Sometimes a paparazzo would be tipped off that Gabriel would be somewhere, but the picture would never be conclusive, always appearing in whatever rag with the headline IS THIS GABRIEL WIRE? Other rumors had it that Wire spent considerable time institutionalized while others insisted that the reason he kept out of sight was simple vanity: His beautiful face had been sliced up during a bar fight in Mumbai.
    Gabriel Wire’s vanishing act did not spell the end of HorsePower. Just the opposite, in fact. Not surprisingly, the legend of Gabriel Wire grew. Would people remember Howard Hughes if he was just another rich guy? Were the Beatles hurt by the rumors of Paul Mc-Cartney’s death? Eccentricity sells. Gabriel, with Lex’s help, managed to keep their music production level steady, and while there was some lost revenue because they couldn’t tour anymore, the record sales more than offset that.
    “I’m not here to see Gabriel Wire,” Myron said.
    “Good,” the guard said, “because I never heard of him.”
    “I need to see Lex Ryder.”
    “Don’t know him either.”
    “Mind if I make a call?”
    “After you turn around and leave,” the guard said, “you can have sex with Rhesus monkeys for all I care.”
    Myron looked at him. There was something familiar about the man, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “You’re not your average rent-a-cop.”
    “Hmm.” The guard arched an eyebrow. “Dazzling now with flattery on top of the smile?”
    “Double dazzle.”
    “If I were a hot chick, I’d probably be disrobing by now.”
    Yep, definitely not your average rent-a-cop. He had the eyes, the mannerisms, the relaxed coil of a pro. Something here was not adding up.
    “What’s your name?” Myron asked.
    “Guess my answer. Go ahead. Take a wild guess.”
    “Turn around and leave?”
    “Bingo.”
    Myron decided not to argue. He backed up, surreptitiously taking out his modified Win-spy BlackBerry. There was a zoom camera on it. He headed to the end of the drive, got the camera up, snapped a quick pic of the guard. He sent it off to Esperanza by e-mail. She’d know what to do. Then he called Buzz, who must have seen on his caller ID that it was Myron: “I’m not going to tell you where Lex is.”
    “First of all, I’m fine,” Myron said. “Thanks for having my back at the club last night.”
    “My job is to take care of Lex, not you.”
    “Second, you don’t have to tell me where Lex is. You’re both at Wire’s place on Adiona Island.”
    “How did you figure that out?”
    “GPS on your phone. In fact, I’m right outside the gate now.”
    “Wait, you’re already on the island?”
    “Yep.”
    “Doesn’t matter. You can’t get in here.”
    “Really? I could call Win. If we put our minds to it, we’ll figure a way.”
    “Man, you’re a pest. Look, Lex doesn’t want to go home. That’s his right.”
    “Good point.”
    “And you’re his agent, for crying out loud. You’re supposed to be looking out for his interests too.”
    “Another good point.”
    “Exactly. You’re not a marriage counselor.”
    Maybe, maybe not. “I need to talk to him for five minutes.”
    “Gabriel won’t let anyone in. Hell, I’m not allowed out of the guest cottage.”
    “There’s a guest cottage?”
    “Two. I think he keeps girls in the other one and shuffles them in one at a time.”
    “Girls?”
    “What, you want the more politically correct ‘women’ ? Hey, it’s still Wire. I don’t know their ages. Anyway, no one is allowed in the recording studio or main house except through some tunnel. It’s spooky here, Myron.”
    “Do you know my sister-in-law?”
    “Who’s your sister-in-law?”
    “Kitty Bolitar. You might know her better as Kitty Hammer. She was at Three Downing with you guys last night.”
    “Kitty’s your