"Yeah. I'm
disappointed. If I could have gotten here yesterday, I might have had
him!"
"No, you would not."
"No? Why do you say that? You heard the secretary."
"She
prevaricated. We are being led along a false trail. That was only what
she was told to tell anyone who asked. Underwood has not been in that
office for several weeks."
"Now hold on a minute. I'm not saying
you're wrong. I have a feeling you hit it right on the head, but you
sound like you know it for a fact."
"It is the same for me as you, Steve. I have ... a feeling. Perhaps I have more faith in my intuition than you do."
"Okay,
I'll buy that. . . for now. For a second there I had the crazy idea you
were going to tell me you were reading her mind when you wiped the
imaginary smudge off her face."
"Yes, that is a crazy idea. Do you have any others?"
"Crazy ideas?"
"Maybe.
I was actually wondering if you had a feeling about where we might try
next. I sincerely doubt if Underwood is in San Francisco since that
appears to be where he wants us to go."
Steve caught his use of the
word "we" and let it go for the moment. Until she found out who he was
for sure, she was not going to accept or reject him as a partner on
this case. They were back at the spot where they had met earlier, and
Steve stopped the van.
"First, I've got to get this van back to
Vegas and check in with my office. Going back to San Francisco is
probably a waste of time as far as finding Underwood is concerned, but
that's where I live and work, so I don't have much choice. My expense
account doesn't stretch far enough for me to go traipsing around the
world to every one of Underwood's offices in hopes that I accidentally
bump into him. I'm going to have to wait until he surfaces somewhere or
somebody comes up with another lead."
"Steve, I have another
feeling. The secretary in the San Francisco office is important to
Underwood. I believe she is the one who would know where he is."
"That's
more than just a feeling. It's in his file. There were several
notations that conjectured that she's his number-one Girl Friday, in
spite of his lack of imagination when it comes to his secretaries' hair
color and names."
"Then it would be reasonable to return to her."
"Why?
Do you think you could melt the old biddy into a pool of desire and get
her to confess everything she knows? Don't kid yourself, Falcon. Even
you aren't that good. She's made of stone and one hundred percent loyal
to her master."
"You are right, Steve."
"Yeah? About what?"
"You do have very crazy ideas. Why did you call me Bob before?" Subject changed.
"Because
Bob is a very common name, and Falcon is not. I didn't want your
identity known. Your name would be remembered, believe me. Now answer a
question for me. How did you get out here, and how did you intend to
return to the city? And just what was it you were doing wandering
around like that when I first saw you?"
"I believe that was three
questions, and one comment that deserves a response. You are right
about my name. I do understand now if you must call me by another name
in the future. I was brought here by a taxi. He did not wait, as you
can see, but it does not matter now. You will take me to wherever we
are going."
His explanation left her thinking he was either a good
liar or a total rube! "How lucky for you that I came along then.
Although I don't usually pick up hitchhikers, I guess you can come back
to Vegas with me. Now, question number three?"
"I was looking for a way in."
"Didn't
Interpol give you any background at all?" Steve caught her breath in a
small gasp, and her voice revealed her worry. "Oh, God, don't tell me
you're a rogue! I manage to get into enough trouble all by myself
without getting mixed up with something like that." She saw his brows
draw together, and assumed he did not understand the term. "A rogue—an
agent who goes off on his own, without orders. Someone who rejects the
rules of the game and makes his own." Steve did not consider herself a
rogue; she simply
disappointed. If I could have gotten here yesterday, I might have had
him!"
"No, you would not."
"No? Why do you say that? You heard the secretary."
"She
prevaricated. We are being led along a false trail. That was only what
she was told to tell anyone who asked. Underwood has not been in that
office for several weeks."
"Now hold on a minute. I'm not saying
you're wrong. I have a feeling you hit it right on the head, but you
sound like you know it for a fact."
"It is the same for me as you, Steve. I have ... a feeling. Perhaps I have more faith in my intuition than you do."
"Okay,
I'll buy that. . . for now. For a second there I had the crazy idea you
were going to tell me you were reading her mind when you wiped the
imaginary smudge off her face."
"Yes, that is a crazy idea. Do you have any others?"
"Crazy ideas?"
"Maybe.
I was actually wondering if you had a feeling about where we might try
next. I sincerely doubt if Underwood is in San Francisco since that
appears to be where he wants us to go."
Steve caught his use of the
word "we" and let it go for the moment. Until she found out who he was
for sure, she was not going to accept or reject him as a partner on
this case. They were back at the spot where they had met earlier, and
Steve stopped the van.
"First, I've got to get this van back to
Vegas and check in with my office. Going back to San Francisco is
probably a waste of time as far as finding Underwood is concerned, but
that's where I live and work, so I don't have much choice. My expense
account doesn't stretch far enough for me to go traipsing around the
world to every one of Underwood's offices in hopes that I accidentally
bump into him. I'm going to have to wait until he surfaces somewhere or
somebody comes up with another lead."
"Steve, I have another
feeling. The secretary in the San Francisco office is important to
Underwood. I believe she is the one who would know where he is."
"That's
more than just a feeling. It's in his file. There were several
notations that conjectured that she's his number-one Girl Friday, in
spite of his lack of imagination when it comes to his secretaries' hair
color and names."
"Then it would be reasonable to return to her."
"Why?
Do you think you could melt the old biddy into a pool of desire and get
her to confess everything she knows? Don't kid yourself, Falcon. Even
you aren't that good. She's made of stone and one hundred percent loyal
to her master."
"You are right, Steve."
"Yeah? About what?"
"You do have very crazy ideas. Why did you call me Bob before?" Subject changed.
"Because
Bob is a very common name, and Falcon is not. I didn't want your
identity known. Your name would be remembered, believe me. Now answer a
question for me. How did you get out here, and how did you intend to
return to the city? And just what was it you were doing wandering
around like that when I first saw you?"
"I believe that was three
questions, and one comment that deserves a response. You are right
about my name. I do understand now if you must call me by another name
in the future. I was brought here by a taxi. He did not wait, as you
can see, but it does not matter now. You will take me to wherever we
are going."
His explanation left her thinking he was either a good
liar or a total rube! "How lucky for you that I came along then.
Although I don't usually pick up hitchhikers, I guess you can come back
to Vegas with me. Now, question number three?"
"I was looking for a way in."
"Didn't
Interpol give you any background at all?" Steve caught her breath in a
small gasp, and her voice revealed her worry. "Oh, God, don't tell me
you're a rogue! I manage to get into enough trouble all by myself
without getting mixed up with something like that." She saw his brows
draw together, and assumed he did not understand the term. "A rogue—an
agent who goes off on his own, without orders. Someone who rejects the
rules of the game and makes his own." Steve did not consider herself a
rogue; she simply
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