quite easily. It’s plainly a butterfly.”
Jackie caught his breath sharply—a coded message, signed with a butterfly. Aunt Lily was right—unless he was very mistaken, she had indeed stumbled upon something—maybe something extremely big.
“It’s a long story,” she was saying.
“Save it until I get there,” Jackie said quickly, interrupted her. “I should be there sometime this evening, if I can get a reservation.”
“Oh, how wonderful. I’ll have tea ready,” Aunt Lily gushed.
Lin was sitting up by the time Jackie finished the conversation, looking rather disappointed. “You will have to go out?” he asked.
“Way out,” Jackie agreed. “All the way to Washington, D.C.”
“Too bad,” Lin said, looking at his still aroused condition. “And just when things were getting interesting.”
Jackie smiled and leaned over to plant a kiss briefly on the center of Lin’s interest. “Save me the leftovers, and I’ll warm them up when I get back.”
Lin giggled, and got up out of the bed, dressing with natural grace. Jackie watched the appetizing frame being tucked into a pair of white pants, sighing as the golden flesh disappeared. Forcing his eyes away, he began to dress himself.
He waited until he had seen Lin out of the apartment, with a last, lingering kiss, and a promise to call as soon as he was back in town. He was grateful for the fact that Lin had not questioned him regarding the call or the nature of his trip to Washington—Jackie would have been unable to give him the honest answer.
Alone in the apartment, Jackie went to the phone and dialed two digits, waiting impatiently until a deep, masculine voice answered with a quick “Yes?”
“Rich, I’ve got to go on a little trip,” Jackie explained hurriedly. “I’m leaving now for the airport—call ahead and get me a reservation on the next Washington flight. And call Ted Summers for me, tell him I’m on my way to Washington and he’s to try to meet me at the airport. I’ll leave word.”
“Something big?” Rich asked on the other end.
“Looks like it might be,” Jackie answered. “Big enough, at least, that I want to look into it myself. But I have a feeling I’ll need some government help, and Summers is the only agent in Washington that I’m personally acquainted with. If nothing else, he’ll know who I should talk to about it.”
“Any message for him,” Rick asked.
“Tell him it concerns Butterfly,” Jackie said quickly. Without waiting for Rich to register surprise, Jackie hung up and hurried to the bedroom, quickly packing for the trip.
CHAPTER TWO
Of all the cities in the United States, Jackie thought, pressing his nose against the glass to look out the window, none could be more beautiful to see from the air, at night, than Washington. The pilot had come in low, banking slightly to allow the passengers a full, breathtaking view. The Washington Monument reached up into the sky, looking almost as if it would scrape the underside of the plane. Other monuments, each lighted artfully, were set like jewels in the tapestry of the city. And every where were the lights and color of Washington by night—the streets radiating out from the center, like the spokes of a wheel, creating a brilliant starburst effect.
The stewardess passed, pausing to indicate Jackie’s still unfastened safety belt. He clasped it over his middle and watched as the ground loomed nearer. The landing gear had already descended with a loud thunk and a few minutes later the plane bounced slightly as it came down, touched the ground, and they were braking mightily as they swept down the runway.
As he entered the terminal, Jackie glanced around for Ted Summers, in case he’d beat him there by the special jet. There was no sight of him, and he was about to move on, expecting to find Summers at the baggage area, when a stranger stepped unexpectedly in front of him.
“Mr. Holmes,” the stranger asked, his manner business-like and formal.
“Yes,” Jackie answered, motionless but alert.
“Craig Mathews,” the man said, flicking open his wallet to reveal his identification. “Of the C.I.A.—Summers couldn’t make it, and he thought this might be more down our line anyway.”
“I see,” Jackie answered simply. In a sense, he was disappointed. He had looked forward to an encore with the handsome, masculine Treasury agent with whom he had worked before and who he had managed to bed before their partnership was ended.
On the other hand, he could hardly resent Craig Mathews as a replacement. The C.I.A. agent looked more like an ivy-league student—nut brown hair combed with extreme care in a continental style, a small but apparently well-formed body fitted into a four button suit and tab-collared shirt, with a finger thin tie. Rather a nice piece of homo-work, Jackie decided, something he really wouldn’t mind boning up on.
His survey of Craig Mathews surface charms had taken no more than a second. Now, smiling, he shook Craig’s hand warmly in his own, and started down the hallway, with the agent falling into step beside him.
“New England?” he asked as they walked. He had noted a distinct accent in Craig’s voice.
“Boston,” Craig answered, without embellishment.
He was not, Jackie observed, bubbling over with good cheer.
“I’ll have to get my bag,” Jackie said as they neared the baggage pick up area.
“I’ll have it picked up for you,” Craig Mathews told him, steering him instead toward the exit. Jackie did not like the abrupt, nearly rude way in which he was being handled, but he did not for the moment offer any objections. He remained silent as he followed his companion outside.
As if by magic, a cab appeared in front of them. It was not, Jackie observed, in line with the others that took turns with the fares from the airport, but rather had been parked quite by itself. Efficient, he thought admiringly—in the cab, with another agent driving them, they could talk safely without fear of being overhead by the wrong party. Craig Mathews, Jackie noted, glanced carefully inside as he stooped to enter the cab. He was taking no chances on mistakes.
The cab had begun to move again almost before Jackie was inside. Jackie pulled the door closed and relaxed against the seat. The windows were closed, shutting out the bouyant April air, but he suspected that was deliberate, and did not try to open one.
“Now then,” Mathews said finally. “What’s this about Butterfly?”
“I wish I could tell you,” Jackie answered with a grin. “But I don’t know much myself. For all I can say, it might be just a wild goose chase.”
Carefully and rapidly he explained about the call from Aunt Lily. “It might be nothing,” he repeated. “But with a name as important as Butterfly, I didn’t think it would do to take any chances.”
“You’re probably right,” Mathews agreed, although he was frowning. No doubt, Jackie thought, watching the youthfully handsome agent, he was disappointed. And also uncomfortable—with some reason. If he knew about Jackie, presumably from Summers, he knew Jackie was
