style="font-size:15px;"> “What makes you think he’ll open up to me? We haven’t seen each other in years.”
“You received a voice mail today.” A recorded voice played over the speakers.
“Dan, it’s Jim Collins. Something’s happening. I need your help. There’s no one else I can trust.”
“You’re listening to my voice mails now?”
“Of course,” Bloch responded without a hint of humor. “But we’re monitoring Collins. We couldn’t be coy about this. It’s too urgent. We need to find those missiles, Morgan.”
“I get the picture.”
“We need you to get him to talk,” she said. “You know how this goes. Use your relationship with him.”
“And then stab him in the back?”
“If he’s a traitor, yes. If not, get him to help you find the missiles. The truth is what we want.”
Morgan was again amazed by the cold-blooded practicality of the woman. He also realized that was maybe what he liked about her the most. “That hasn’t always been my experience,” he reminded her. “Sometimes, what you higher-ups want is a fall guy.”
Bloch sat back, and her lips got very thin and straight indeed. “This is Zeta, Agent Morgan,” she said carefully. “I am Zeta. If you think that is true, or even possibly true of me, I’m sure the classic car dealerships of the world would welcome a salesman of your caliber back into the fold. Don’t put your personal relationships ahead of your objectivity or the nation’s security. You’re a better agent than that.”
“When the chips are down, I hope that’s more than just talk, Bloch.”
“If you have to hope, then you don’t know Zeta at all.” She restored the placid authority to her expression. “You in, or can you give me a solid lead on a Porsche 916?”
Morgan almost grinned. “Yeah, I get it. You need me to save the day. Must be Tuesday.”
Chapter Six
Lily gave her name at the lobby of the San Francisco St. Regis. Bright sunlight streamed in from Third Street through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall and fell on the interior’s mild modern decor.
“Everything looks good with your reservation. Your car is also ready.”
“Car?”
“Let me see here. Yes, that’s right. We have a car for you. Courtesy of a Mr. Renard.”
That would be Scott Renard. Young multimillionaire, Silicon Valley prodigy—as so many were— and Lily’s boyfriend. She thrilled at being left this little surprise.
The man at reception handed her the keycard snugly inserted into a heavy stock envelope. “You’re all set. Are you going up to your room now, ma’am?”
“No. Can you have the car brought around?”
The valet drove it into the drop-off area at the hotel door. It was a silver Alfa Romeo 4C Coupe, all sleek curves and low to the ground. She was a sucker for European sports cars, and Scott knew it.
She got in, settling and arranging the seat and mirrors—which always felt like a ritual in a new car—getting to know its layout and particularities. She ran her hands over the interior, feeling the plump smoothness of the leather. Then she twisted the key and pulled off into the street, delighting in the responsiveness of the accelerator and the easy, fluid way in which it drove.
She couldn’t wait to get that baby on the highway. But for now, she just played on the hilly San Francisco streets, as much as she could get away with and not attract the attention of the police. Once the sheen started wearing off, she activated the hands-free communication panel and called Scott.
“Hello, stud. Guess where I am?”
“I think you’re looking for something more specific than Frisco.”
“Very specific. My present company is sexy, curvy, European and very powerful.”
“If you’re trying to make me jealous, it’s not going to work.” He chuckled. “Do you like it?”
“I think you know the answer to that question. You do know how to please a girl.”
“In more ways than one. Speaking of which, I’m at work. Come pick me up.”
“Don’t you have big executive things to do? Hire people, fire people, look at fiscal reports?”
“I got all that done. I have a very important board meeting in five minutes, during which we are going to see if anyone can beat my high score on the office video game, but I can skip out early...if you sweeten the deal.”
Her smile widened at the suggestion. “Suppose I just leave you there playing games with the boys?”
“Okay. You win. I miss you desperately. Come now, or I’ll wallow forever in sorrow.”
She grinned. “Be there in twenty.”
“That’s the best you can do with my little present?” he asked incredulously.
“Be there in ten.”
A short time with an exaggerated proportion of driving violations later, she found him at the curb outside the building that housed SR Holdings, his electronic security start-up.
“Hey, baby,” she said. “Looking for trouble?”
“Looks like I found it,” he said, flashing his gap-toothed smile. He made his way around the coupe and into the passenger seat.
“I wish you’d stay with me,” he said. “There’s no need for you to stay at the hotel.”
“What’s the glamour in that? I prefer expensive cars, five-star hotels, and nights out on the town.”
“You would,” he said. “Not that we can’t have all that. You’ve been to my place, Lily. A five-star hotel isn’t an improvement.”
She let it hang. Eventually Scott took the hint and changed the subject. “You said you needed help with something? Or was that only a ploy to see me?”
“I did want to see you. But I really do need a favor.” Eyes on the road, she reached into her bag and pulled out the golden card.
Scott examined it.
“Fancy,” he said, turning it around. “Looks like real gold leaf. Got a chip embedded there too. Any idea what it is?”
“None at all. Lifted it from an arms dealer. We’re hoping it’ll give us some idea of where he’s going next. Think you can help us?”
“I might. I’ve got a friend who has this software, like face recognition but for anything. Searches through millions of online pictures for any object, any image really. I’ve seen it find a particular
