“And now it's all in pieces,” Stark said quietly.
Dane's head sagged in defeat. “You always were the brains of the outfit.”
“That's where you're wrong,” Stark said. “I can't be all that smart. After all, I trusted you, didn't I?”
Desdemona was worried about Stark.
Later that evening, ensconced in her favorite red leather chair, she surreptitiously kept an eye on his grim, unreadable face while he answered questions from the Wainwright clan, his brothers, and Ian Ivers.
A somber, melancholic mood had settled on him even before the authorities had arrived to handcuff Dane and take him away.
Stark had refused to discuss whatever if was that had settled like a cloud on his spirits, but he didn't need to spell it out. Desdemona knew that he was blaming himself for having put her in harm's way.
She did not know how to ease his mind. Stark was a man who would always be harder on himself than on anyone else.
“What the heck did you do to the laptop?” Henry asked. “Ian said it acted like some kind of stun gun.”
“It did.” Stark stretched out his legs, shoved his hands into his pockets, and regarded the small crowd of eager listeners. “I rigged it so that it would deliver an electrical jolt to whoever touched the case. I set the charge when I punched up ARCANE for him.”
“Smart.” Henry's grin held genuine admiration. “Like a scene out of a James Bond film.”
“Except that Stark's hero was obviously Q, the guy who designed the high-tech toys, not Bond,” Benedick remarked approvingly.
Tony turned a chair around and straddled it. He rested his arms on the back. “Stark rigged the case this afternoon just as soon as he realized that Dane McCallum was behind the attempt to steal ARCANE.”
“Jason and I helped him,” Kyle said proudly. “Didn't we, Sam?”
“Couldn't have done it without you,” Stark said.
Desdemona stirred. “Dane was jealous of Stark, you know. That's why he did it. He wanted to prove that he was smarter than Stark. That he could be the star of the show.”
Stark glanced at her, frowning. “How do you know that?”
She shrugged. “The way he talked there at the end. It was obvious.”
There was a small silence while everyone considered that. Then Tony spoke.
“Stark knew that sooner or later the thief would try again, and he wanted to be ready. It worked, didn't it?”
“Yes,” Stark said. “It worked. But not quite as planned. I failed to consider the possibility that McCallum would use Desdemona as a hostage.”
“How could you have known?” Desdemona said quickly. “Stark, you mustn't blame yourself for what happened.”
He looked at her with expressionless eyes. Her heart sank.
Benedick frowned. “When did you conclude that it was McCallum who was behind all this nonsense?”
Stark took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Desdemona reminded me that whoever was responsible for Tate's death knew a hell of a lot about my personal life. And hers.”
Desdemona blushed. “I was starting to get a little paranoid. I even had a few unkind thoughts about Ian.”
“Me?” Ian looked pained.
“Good heavens.” Kirsten's eyes widened. “Ian?”
“It wasn't such a far-out guess.” Stark put on his glasses. “The list of people who could have figured out how to get into Stark Security Systems computers was unknowable. But the list of people who were at least passingly computer literate and who also knew a lot about my relationship with Desdemona, and about you Wainwrights in general, was a lot shorter.”
“When he started going down the list this morning, he put McCallum's name at the top,” Tony said. “That's when he worked out the trick with the laptop. He had already sent an e-mail message designed to lure the killer out into the open. The fish took the bait.”
“But the fish had some bait of his own.” Stark looked at Desdemona. “I want to emphasize that what happened next was not part of the plan.”
“I'm glad to hear that,” Ian muttered. He touched his head gingerly. “Not that it did me or Desdemona any good.”
“No,” Stark said heavily. “What happened to the two of you was my fault. I owe you, Ivers.”
Ian brightened. He gave Stark a speculative look. “Well, now that you mention it…”
“And I owe Desdemona,” Stark said.
“Forget it. I'll collect later.” Desdemona reached out to touch his hand. His fingers did not close around hers as she hoped they would.
“You're a hero, Stark,” Tony said wryly. “Why fight it?”
Desdemona saw Stark's jaw tighten. “The important thing is that we're all safe. The nightmare is over.”
“Not quite,” Stark said.
Everyone looked at him.
“I'd like to get my hands on Kilburn,” Stark said softly. “According to McCallum, he'll be arriving at the airport late tonight to pick up ARCANE.”
Tony's brows came together in a thoughtful frown. “He won't show when he learns that McCallum's been arrested.”
“He doesn't know about that,” Stark said. “The Feds took charge of the case this afternoon, and they've arranged to keep everything hushed up until tomorrow.”
“They can do that?” Henry asked.
“Yes,” Stark said. “The case is in their territory because it involves an attempt to steal restricted technology and take it out of the country.”
“So what happens now?” Tony asked curiously.
“We're going to set another trap,” Stark said.
Tony straightened in his chair. “Yeah?”
Jason bounced up and down. “What kind of trap?”
“The Feds would very much like to catch Kilburn in the act of buying ARCANE.” Stark looked at Tony. “To do that they need an actor. Someone who can impersonate Dane McCallum long enough to trick Kilburn into going through with the deal.”
Tony grinned slowly. “Well, what do you know. It just so happens that I'm between engagements at the moment.”
Alarmed, Celia glanced from Tony to Stark. “Will it be dangerous?”
“Of course not,” Tony said swiftly. “There's nothing to worry about, is there, Stark?”
“No guarantees,” Stark said carefully, “but it should be as safe as these things get. According to McCallum, the exchange is scheduled to be made at SeaTac Airport tonight. Kilburn is supposed to arrive, pick up ARCANE, and leave within an hour on an international flight. The Feds will be there, ready to move in as soon as Kilburn accepts ARCANE.”
“Piece of cake,” Tony said.
Desdemona smiled. “You've always been very good in the role of hero, Tony.”
Tony grinned. For the first time in a long while the bitterness was gone from his eyes.
21
Although he was prepared for the transformation, Stark did a double take when Tony walked into the international terminal shortly after midnight.
Outfitted in a blond wig, mustache, glasses, and a stylish silver-gray suit, Tony was a disturbingly familiar figure.
“I'll be damned,” Stark said quietly to Benedick, who was seated next to him in the airport lounge. “He's a dead ringer for McCallum.”
“Always said the boy had talent.” Benedick beamed proudly from behind the newspaper he was ostensibly reading.
“He's even got the walk down right. He moves the way McCallum moves.”
“A good actor does more with movement than he does with makeup.” Benedick made a show of turning the page. “You said this Kilburn fellow has met McCallum face-to-face?”
“We all worked at the Rosetta Institute, but Kilburn hasn't seen McCallum in person for over three years, and they weren't exactly close then. They saw each other occasionally in the hall, but that was it. The deal for ARCANE was done through the computers. With any luck, the mustache and dark glasses will distract Kilburn long enough for the exchange to be made.”
“No one
expects someone to look exactly as he did after three years.” Benedick shrugged. “Like Tony said, piece of cake.”
Tony, laptop clutched in his hand, hovered near the news-stand. Stark thought that he displayed just the right degree of edginess for the occasion.
Ten minutes later, the gate opened to disgorge the passengers of an incoming flight. Kilburn, carrying a large briefcase, was among the first half-dozen people to get off the plane. Stark noted that he was apparently traveling first-class these days.
Kilburn had grown plumper over the years. Even the cut of his expensive suit could not contain his large belly. It strained the buttons of his shirt. His benign, cheerfully rounded face sagged around the jaw and spilled over his collar.
Kilburn swept the waiting area with a nervous, impatient glance. Then he paused to study the blond man in the silver-gray suit. Tony's back was deliberately turned toward the gate.
“He's spotted Tony,” Benedick murmured. “Looks like the fish is going to take your bait.”
Stark watched with satisfaction as Kilburn started toward the newsstand.
Tony did not turn around when Kilburn tapped him on the shoulder. He simply nodded and led the way toward a corner near the rest rooms. Kilburn followed, glancing uneasily over his shoulder.
There was no mistaking the exchange of the laptop computer for the briefcase. It was hurriedly done in the shadows. Kilburn opened the lid of the computer, bent over it, and tapped out some commands on the keyboard. Stark knew he was punching up ARCANE. Meanwhile, Tony opened the briefcase to display the contents. He glanced inside and nodded as if satisfied.
A done deal. Head still averted, Tony even shook Kilburn's hand.
The Federal agents, three men who had been posing as traveling businessmen, moved in.
At the last instant Kilburn realized what was happening. He stared wildly at the men closing in on him. Then he lashed out at Tony, who easily ducked the blow and stuck out a foot.
Kilburn stumbled over the obstacle and toppled heavily to the floor. A man in a nondescript suit crouched down to handcuff him.
It was over.
“Let's go.” Stark got to his feet.
Benedick put down his newspaper and rose. Together they walked over to the corner near the rest rooms to watch the denouement.
A small crowd also gathered to watch the proceedings.
Kilburn looked up at the ring of onlookers surrounding him and spotted Stark. His face contorted with fury.
“You bloody son of a bitch,” Kilburn said in a choked voice. “Everyone always said you were so damned smart. You goddamn son of a bitch.”
“Gotcha,” Stark said.
Twenty minutes later Stark leaned against the airport rest room wall, hooked a thumb in the waistband of his jeans, and watched as Tony removed the mustache, wig, and makeup.
“You handled that very well,” Stark said.
Benedick beamed. “That's my boy.”
Tony struggled to control a buoyant grin. He met Stark's eyes in the mirror. “Thanks.”
“Want a job?”
Tony blanked. “Job?”
“I'm thinking of expanding Stark Security Systems services to include some investigative personnel. I'll need a few good people who are computer literate and who can also go undercover to gather evidence on-site. Interested?”
Benedick's brows twitched in surprise. He eyed Stark but said nothing. He waited calmly for his son's answer.
“Yeah.” Tony spoke cautiously but his eyes were gleaming with excitement. “I might be interested.”
“Okay,” Stark said. “You're hired. Report to my secretary tomorrow morning. She'll arrange to get you on the payroll.”
“Just like that?”
“Why not? It's my company.”
Tony narrowed his eyes. “This wouldn't, by any chance, be a sneaky way of making certain that I no longer have an excuse to mooch off Desdemona while I'm between acting engagements, would it?”
“Do you want the job or not?”
“Yeah.” Tony laughed as he ripped off the fake mustache. “I want the job.”
The following morning Augustus put down his latte cup with an air of grave deliberation and surveyed his audience.
“I am not altogether certain,” he intoned, “that I approve of this growing trend toward regular employment that has appeared among the younger generation of Wain-wrights.”
Desdemona, Celia, Bess, Juliet, and Kirsten, seated around two tables in the espresso bar, groaned in unison.
“For heaven's sake, dear.” Bess patted Augustus's arm in a reassuring manner. “It's just a day job. Tony will still be free to pursue his acting career.”
“But will he want to pursue it?” Augustus asked darkly. “That's what concerns me. All he can talk about is his new job as a computer spy.”
“He's a Wainwright,” Celia said calmly. “He'll never give up acting.”
“Actually, the position at Stark Security Systems is a sort of acting job when you think about it,” Kirsten pointed out. “Stark said he was very impressed by the way Tony performed last night at the airport.”
“And just think of the added financial stability it will bring to the family,” Celia said.
“There is that.” But Augustus clearly remained unconvinced.
“Tony seems very enthusiastic,” Bess said. “In fact, he seemed elated. Let's be honest here. We all know that for years he has been getting increasingly frustrated and unhappy. This morning when I talked to him he was a new man.”
Celia nodded. “That's just what Benedick said.”
“Can't deny that's important,” Augustus admitted. “I suppose it will be all right. Stark is about to become a member of the family, after all. It's not as though Tony has gone to work for an outsider.”
Desdemona couldn't stand it any longer. She grabbed a napkin and burst into tears.
Everyone turned toward her in astounded concern.
“What's wrong?” Celia asked anxiously.
“Bridal jitters,” Bess declared.
“No, it's not that.” Desdemona blotted her eyes. “Well, maybe it is in a way. I'm so worried about him, you see.”
“About Stark?” Bess asked.
“Just when I thought he was learning to trust other people,” Desdemona said, “this stupid mess with Dane McCallum had to happen.”
Juliet frowned. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“Stark feels responsible for what occurred at the Limelight.” Desdemona looked up from her tear-soaked napkin. “He thinks that he made a terrible mistake when he trusted McCallum. And he believes that I almost paid the price for his failure in judgment.”
“Oh, dear,” Bess said.
Desdemona wadded up the napkin. “This incident with McCallum has convinced Stark that he was right not to trust people, not to take chances. In the future, he's going to be more emotionally cautious than ever.”
Kirsten's eyes widened. “Are you telling me that he doesn't even trust you now?”
“No, that's not it. The real problem is that he doesn't trust himself.”
“What do you mean?” Bess said.
Desdemona gazed at the crumpled napkin. “Don't you see? He won't really be free to love and let himself be loved until he learns to accept the fact that he has real human emotions and needs and that he can make mistakes.”
“Are you telling us that you've finally realized he may not make a proper Wainwright after all?” Henry demanded.
“I don't know.” Desdemona gazed morosely down into her half-finished latte. “For years people have told Stark that he's human computer. I think he's begun to believe it. Being a human computer is a nice, safe, invulnerable thing to be.”
Kirsten looked thoughtful. “I think I see where you're going with this.”
Desdemona gave her a shaky smile. “Poor Stark. He knows he's got a brain, and he knows that people respect him for it. But he doesn't want to admit that he's got emotions and feelings, too. Eve
ry time he's allowed those emotions and feelings to influence him, he's gotten burned.”
Kirsten raised her latte. “I imagine that, to his way of thinking, the McCallum incident is just one more example of the foolhardiness of allowing himself to trust.”
“Exactly,” Desdemona said. “He trusted McCallum, and look where it got him.”
“You're afraid that the McCallum situation undid all the work you've done to get Stark to become more human, aren't you?” Kirsten asked gently.
“Yes,” Desdemona gazed morosely out the window. “He's a work in progress. Sort of like an ice carving that's only partially completed. I can see the potential shape, but the outlines are still blurred and uneven.”
“And cold?” Celia inquired softly.
Desdemona recalled the frozen expression in Stark's eyes. She shivered. “Yes.”
Celia's eyes were shadowed with concern. “Be honest, dear. This is no time to make a mistake. Your future happiness is on the line. Are you having second thoughts about going through with the wedding?”
Bess scowled. “If you are, now is the time to get out.”
Desdemona looked into the worried faces of her family and knew that Bess spoke the truth. Realization struck her with the force of a blinding spotlight.
“Oh, my God,” Desdemona breathed in horror. “This must be what the other fiancées went through.”
Stark contemplated his future father-in-law. Benedick was posed near the office window, the embodiment of old-fashioned paternal concern. It would have been amusing if Stark had not been in such a foul mood and if he had not had a strong suspicion that Benedick was not acting.
“I won't deny that I've had a few doubts about you right from the beginning, son,” Benedick said deliberately. “Always felt that my daughter should marry someone who was more like her than you appeared to be.”
“Let me guess. You wanted Desdemona to marry someone with artistic sensibilities?” Stark asked very politely.
“Not necessarily.” Benedick gazed out over Elliott Bay. “My only concern was that she be happy. I thought she would be happiest with a man whose nature was more akin to her own. A man who would be at ease with a woman of strong emotions and warmth of feeling. A man who was capable of similar emotions and feelings.”