Zinnia by Jayne Castle Page B

abducting the expedition team.”
    Without waiting for a response, Nick let himself out of the office. He closed the door very quietly.
    Helen bristled when she saw him.
    “Have a nice day.” Nick smiled as he went past her desk.
    She flinched.
    He walked down the plush corridor to the elevator. When the doors slid open he stepped inside and glanced at his watch. Perhaps Zinnia had called by now. Impatience and a strange sense of eagerness pulsed through him.
    A few minutes later, he walked out of the imposing entrance of the Chastain building and into a light misty rain. He strode quickly to where his dark green Synchron was parked at the curb.
    He reached for the phone as soon as he was behind the steering bar.
    “I’m on my way back to the casino, Feather.” Nick eased the sleek Synchron into the light traffic. “Any messages?”
    “I put out the word that you were willing to pay five grand for any information about the Chastain journal, just like you said, boss. But nothing so far.”
    “Double the reward.” Nick absently calculated the distances that separated the Synchron from the other vehicles on the street. He factored in the effects of the rain, the wet pavement, and the speed of the blue compact ahead of him. Something was not quite right in the matrix. He changed lanes.
    The driver of the blue compact suddenly slammed on his brakes, narrowly avoiding a rear-end collision with another vehicle. Tires screeched. Horns blared. Nick accelerated smoothly past the near-accident.
    He drove the same way he did everything else, with an instinctive awareness of all of the elements in the matrix in which he moved. He always knew exactly where he was in relation to the objects around him. His timing was nearly always perfect. It was one of the side effects of his psychic talent.
    “Any other messages?” he asked.
    “Nothing important,” Feather said.
    Nick tightened his grip on the phone. “Has Miss Spring called yet?”
    “No, boss.”
    “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He punched the disconnect button on the phone.
    She would call. He was good at this sort of thing. He knew she would call.
    But he could feel something shifting again in the matrix. Zinnia was proving to be unpredictable.

Chapter
8
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    Zinnia poured coff-tea into the dainty antique Early Explorations Period cup. “Don’t worry, Aunt Willy, the Synsation van is the only one left out in front. In another day or so it will be gone. This kind of news loses its impact fast.”
    “It’s outrageous.” Wilhelmina accepted the cup and saucer with the arrogant grace that had been bred into her bones. “One would think that the police would do something about those dreadful little insects who dare to call themselves journalists. In my day they showed a proper degree of respect for privacy. Now, nothing is sacred, not even one’s personal life.”
    Zinnia regarded her with irritation and admiration. Wilhelmina was a commanding presence in any setting. Seated here amid Zinnia’s collection of airy, whimsical Early Explorations Period furnishings, she was a monument to family authority. Zinnia had to concede that Willy was the reigning matriarch of the Spring clan.
    A large woman of statuesque proportions, Wilhelmina transcended any common notions of beauty. She was endowed with the sort of strong, indomitable features that would have done credit to a statue of a First Generation Founder.
    The decline and fall of the Spring family fortunes in recent years had only served to shore up Wilhelmina’s aura of unbending determination. She was a woman with a mission. She would not rest until she had seen the bottom line of the family finances and the social position of the Springs restored to their former impressive levels.
    “And as for you, Zinnia, whatever were you about last night? How did you come to be in the company of a common gambler?”
    “Actually, Mr. Chastain is rather uncommon and I got the impression that he