![Xenopath - [Bengal Station 02]](/res/aob/book1.jpg)
Jeff told her all about the case he and Kapinsky were working on.
Sukara shook her head, fork stalled before her mouth. “Three murders in nine months... and you think they’re linked?”
“The first two certainly, and maybe even the third.” He was a big man, and his movements and speech were slow, deliberate.
“Jeff, the man who murdered these people—”
“Probably a hired assassin.”
“An assassin? So if he knows you’re onto him...?” Panic flared in her chest. She waved her fork. “What’s to stop him going after you and Kapinsky?”
He chewed, finished his mouthful, and nodded. “One, he doesn’t know we’re investigating him. Two, even if he did, we’re just a couple of smalltime private eyes, not worth bothering about.”
She stared at him. “I’m not that stupid, Jeff! You’d be worth bothering about if you were close to discovering who he was, yes?”
“Su—we’re professional. We won’t let the killer know we’re on to him, okay?”
She bit her lip, nodding grudgingly. “It’s just that I worry, Jeff. I love you and I’m frightened.”
He reached across the table, gripped her fingers. “I don’t want you to worry. I’m not some kid playing games, okay?”
She smiled. “What do you think of the curry, Jeff?”
He shook his head. “Words can’t do it justice. You should open a restaurant.”
That night, in bed, Sukara held Jeff and whispered, “You do know I love you, don’t you?”
He traced the line of her cheek with the back of his hand. Moonlight cascaded through the open viewscreen, silvering his jaw. “Of course.”
“Jeff...” she began, and fell silent.
“Mmm.”
“Jeff, I wish you’d read my mind. I want you to read what I feel about you. I want to show you that I love you.”
He pulled away and blinked at her. “I know you love me, Su.”
“No, but I want you to see how much I love you!”
He laughed. “Su—do you believe me when I tell you I love you?”
“Of course!”
“But you can’t read me, can you?”
“No.”
“Then trust me when I say I believe you love me.”
She lay in his arms, in the moonlight, thinking about that. She smiled. “Mmm... Okay, Jeff,” she said.
Minutes later she was asleep.
* * * *
EIGHT
MALLORY
Next morning Vaughan was awoken by the chime of his handset. He dragged it from the bedside cabinet and clamped it around his wrist. “Vaughan here.”
Kapinsky was evidently an early riser. She was already in her office and it wasn’t yet eight. “Vaughan, what are your plans for today?”
He rubbed his eyes and tried to order his thoughts. “This morning, going over to the Scheering-Lassiter HQ, see what I can dig up there.”
Kapinsky shook her head. “I’ve tried it. No go. They don’t like private investigators.”
“I’ll work out some way of getting in there.”
“You’re an optimist, Vaughan,” she said. “What about this afternoon?”
“I’ll check the surveillance cams in the area around the amusement park. You?”
“I’m spending the day on the Mulraney case, questioning a few people, seeing if I can dig up a witness or two. Meet you here first thing tomorrow to collate what we’ve got, okay?”
“See you then,” he said, and cut the connection.
Beside him, Sukara stirred. She rolled onto her back and blinked up at the ceiling. Light—real daylight— slanted into the bedroom.
“Like it here, Jeff,” she murmured.
He leaned over and kissed her. “I’ve got to be going. I’m late already.”
“Jeff, I don’t like what you told me about that killer last night.” She gripped his hand. “Take care,” she said, reluctant to let go of him.
“I’ll do that,” he whispered.
He showered, left the apartment, grabbed a couple of samosas from a kiosk beside the upchute, and rode to
Sukara shook her head, fork stalled before her mouth. “Three murders in nine months... and you think they’re linked?”
“The first two certainly, and maybe even the third.” He was a big man, and his movements and speech were slow, deliberate.
“Jeff, the man who murdered these people—”
“Probably a hired assassin.”
“An assassin? So if he knows you’re onto him...?” Panic flared in her chest. She waved her fork. “What’s to stop him going after you and Kapinsky?”
He chewed, finished his mouthful, and nodded. “One, he doesn’t know we’re investigating him. Two, even if he did, we’re just a couple of smalltime private eyes, not worth bothering about.”
She stared at him. “I’m not that stupid, Jeff! You’d be worth bothering about if you were close to discovering who he was, yes?”
“Su—we’re professional. We won’t let the killer know we’re on to him, okay?”
She bit her lip, nodding grudgingly. “It’s just that I worry, Jeff. I love you and I’m frightened.”
He reached across the table, gripped her fingers. “I don’t want you to worry. I’m not some kid playing games, okay?”
She smiled. “What do you think of the curry, Jeff?”
He shook his head. “Words can’t do it justice. You should open a restaurant.”
That night, in bed, Sukara held Jeff and whispered, “You do know I love you, don’t you?”
He traced the line of her cheek with the back of his hand. Moonlight cascaded through the open viewscreen, silvering his jaw. “Of course.”
“Jeff...” she began, and fell silent.
“Mmm.”
“Jeff, I wish you’d read my mind. I want you to read what I feel about you. I want to show you that I love you.”
He pulled away and blinked at her. “I know you love me, Su.”
“No, but I want you to see how much I love you!”
He laughed. “Su—do you believe me when I tell you I love you?”
“Of course!”
“But you can’t read me, can you?”
“No.”
“Then trust me when I say I believe you love me.”
She lay in his arms, in the moonlight, thinking about that. She smiled. “Mmm... Okay, Jeff,” she said.
Minutes later she was asleep.
* * * *
EIGHT
MALLORY
Next morning Vaughan was awoken by the chime of his handset. He dragged it from the bedside cabinet and clamped it around his wrist. “Vaughan here.”
Kapinsky was evidently an early riser. She was already in her office and it wasn’t yet eight. “Vaughan, what are your plans for today?”
He rubbed his eyes and tried to order his thoughts. “This morning, going over to the Scheering-Lassiter HQ, see what I can dig up there.”
Kapinsky shook her head. “I’ve tried it. No go. They don’t like private investigators.”
“I’ll work out some way of getting in there.”
“You’re an optimist, Vaughan,” she said. “What about this afternoon?”
“I’ll check the surveillance cams in the area around the amusement park. You?”
“I’m spending the day on the Mulraney case, questioning a few people, seeing if I can dig up a witness or two. Meet you here first thing tomorrow to collate what we’ve got, okay?”
“See you then,” he said, and cut the connection.
Beside him, Sukara stirred. She rolled onto her back and blinked up at the ceiling. Light—real daylight— slanted into the bedroom.
“Like it here, Jeff,” she murmured.
He leaned over and kissed her. “I’ve got to be going. I’m late already.”
“Jeff, I don’t like what you told me about that killer last night.” She gripped his hand. “Take care,” she said, reluctant to let go of him.
“I’ll do that,” he whispered.
He showered, left the apartment, grabbed a couple of samosas from a kiosk beside the upchute, and rode to
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