Topaz Dreams Read online

  A second devastating blow had followed immediately after the first Each time Steve had tried to talk to Vinnie about beginning her career it had ended in a screaming battle. During one of their fights he had stated that no wife of his was going to work outside the home and leave his children with strangers, and especially not at a job where she would endanger her life. Steve had then realized that he had married her assuming that she would be so grateful to him she would always remain a dutiful wife. Well, she had certainly been the perfect candidate—shy, plain, and a virgin, with a healthy body that would bear the brood of children he had anticipated having.

  By the time their son was six months old, Vinnie had found someone who understood him better than his disagreeable wife. He had even managed to forget that he was the father of two small children. The divorce had been ugly, but Steve had survived—fawner baby, Vince, Jr., his two-year-old sister, Mary Ann, and the promise she had made to her father.

  Three and a half years had passed since then. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime, sometimes like it was only yesterday.

  Lou finally wound up his tale. "Michael Ohara was one of the best there ever was, and don't you forget it, little girl." He paused a moment and rubbed his eyelids with his forefinger and thumb, as if it was a strain to remember that the child who had worshipped him and her father was now a thirty-three-year-old woman and his business partner.

  "Listen, Steve, you don't have to prove anything anymore. No one doubts that you're a good investigator, and we all know you can hold your own in a bad situation. Hell, you probably could without all that karate shit. But if you keep up the cowboy, or perhaps the correct term is cowperson, routine, your luck is bound to run out one of these days just like your dad's did. You have got to put a leash on that Irish temper of yours. I know you've got a good brain. Use it! No more stupid heroics. Got it?"

  Steve's suspicious nature came alert She had expected at least another half-hour of haranguing before he let her off the hot seat. "Yes, sir."

  "Good, because we've taken on a new client, and the investigator on this case is going to have to use more diplomacy than muscle. It's kid gloves all the way."

  "Are you going to lay it out or do I have to cross my heart and hope to die if I don't behave first?"

  Lou ignored her sarcasm. "Remember Bob Crandall?"

  "Sure. He and his wife visited Dad and Mom a few times. He was in the Bureau with you, right?"

  "Right. But he left it years before we did. Now he's president of QRT, Inc., a think tank in Silicon Valley. They're our new client.

  "What happened? Someone steal an idea?" It sounded funny to Steve, but Lou frowned.

  "Worse. One of the thinkers is missing."

  "How long?"

  "A little over six weeks ago. The man's name is Karl Nesterman. Bob said he's one of the top computer scientists in the world. They felt privileged to have him working at QRT.

  "Nesterman had been working in his study in his home in San Jose when his wife, Evelyn, went out to go shopping. Two hours later she returned and found that he and all his clothing were gone. She immediately called the police and was told she'd have to wait the usual twenty-four hours."

  "What made her call the police? Was there a note? Any evidence of foul play? Or was it just that she couldn't believe her husband would leave her?"

  Dokes gave her a shake of his forefinger to remind her to hold her questions. "There was only one thing which would seem insignificant to someone who didn't know Nesterman. He had left the power on for his computer system and a floppy disk in the disk drive. His wife insisted he would never go farther than the bathroom without shutting down and putting everything neatly back in its proper place.

  "I had the new kid do the preliminary legwork for you while you were out last week. She talked to Mrs. Nesterman, then checked out his neighbors and coworkers. Nesterman was a real straight arrow, no hanky-panky in his personal or professional life, and just as fastidious as his wife claimed. You can review those interviews yourself.

  "There was no hint of mid-life crisis, financial problems, or anything else that would indicate he had a reason to walk out. Everyone questioned was positive he would not have been involved in anything illegal, and he never touched drugs or alcohol.

  "Although his clothing and some luggage were gone, no mementos, reading material, not even his portable computer were removed. For that matter, not a single item anywhere else in the house was tampered with. No fingerprints except the residents. No forced entry or indications of a struggle. The doors and windows were all still locked when Mrs. Nesterman returned home. He left no note, and there has been no ransom demand. So what the authorities had was a big zero!

  "Had?" Steve interrupted. By now she knew it was Lou's way to eliminate methodically everything a case was not before describing what it was. She described him as a plodder. It worked for him, but it usually drove her up the wall.

  This time Dokes smiled indulgently at her impatience. "QRT has a lot of government contracts. At the time he disappeared, Nesterman was working on a top secret Defense Department project—something involving the development of a series of microchips for a new weapons system. When the local police didn't immediately come up with anything, Bob contacted Defense.

  "Based on the assumption that it was a professional kidnapping and Nesterman's current project could be the real target, the FBI was called in. They didn't do any better than the locals. Since there was no ransom demand after a month had gone by, it seemed apparent that the perpetrators wanted to keep Nesterman. That meant that a foreign government or industrial espionage, U.S. or otherwise, could be involved. But from what we know now it looks like one of QRTs American competitors might be behind it."

  Steve leaned forward in her seat, but kept her lips clamped against the next set of questions she would have fired.

  "Mrs. Nesterman is no dummy. She wasn't going to sit back and watch everyone else get nowhere fast.

  Although her husband never gave her any specifics about confidential projects, she knew he worked on them from time to time. She was not exactly in his class computer-wise, I gather, but she was no slouch on the keyboard, either.

  "Instead of worrying, she spent her time reviewing the working disks he kept at home in hopes of finding a clue about who could have wanted him or his knowledge so much they would commit a crime as serious as kidnapping. It paid off. Nesterman kept a private journal in which he reviewed his daily activities. Even his wife hadn't known about it until she found it. Considering who his notes implicated, she decided to turn the information over to Bob Crandall instead of the law. The two of them decided to hire us. They were no longer confident the government could get Nesterman back."

  "You're dragging this out on purpose, aren't you? So, who's our number-one pick for bad guy?"

  "Gordon Underwood."

  Steve's face lit up as her mind automatically rolled through everything she knew about Underwood. "Good grief. What was in that journal?"

  "Two entries of particular interest. Here." Dokes handed Steve the sheet. "The first part is an excerpt from about eight weeks ago. The second entry was made two days before Nesterman disappeared."

  Steve began reading.

  ... Gordon Underwood shocked us all today when he deigned to attend the association's luncheon. He's even more imposing than his pictures. To my greater shock, he walked right up to me and offered me a job for a ridiculous sum of money and a chance to "touch the heavens." I might have been tempted if it hadn't been he who made the offer. Everyone in the Valley knows the man's dealings are not always on the square, and if it wasn't illegal, or impossible, why would he have offered me $5,000,000 to solve a computer problem? He did not gracefully accept my refusal. After repeating that he wanted me for the job and no one else was good enough, he informed me I had exactly two weeks to change my mind. I can't forget the strange feeling I got when I looked in his cold eyes.

  (Two weeks later) I don't know whether to report the incident. Evel
yn would be so worried. If they only meant to frighten me, they did a good job of it, but I can't believe anyone would do me serious harm just because I don't want to work for them. Of course the two thugs who accosted me this afternoon didn't actually say who sent them—only that my two weeks were up and I would call a certain person in his San Francisco office tomorrow and accept his offer—or else. I can't believe they were serious!

  When Steve finished reading, she let out a soft whistle. "Sounds like more than enough to sic the law on the big shot. Why did Crandall decide to give this to us instead?"

  "If Underwood is behind Nestennan's disappearance, he's going to be even harder than usual to locate. As it is, he only grants telephone interviews to the media, and those only when it involves some new development he wants publicized. He's also on his guard against potential lawsuits and being served subpoenas since he's hounded by so many different Federal agencies. And when something like that comes up, I swear he has a kind of sixth sense about who's looking for him and vanishes into thin air.

  "Crandal's afraid if Underwood sniffs a lawman hell go further underground and Nesterman may never be found. His and Mrs. Nesterman's only concern is to get Karl Nesterman back and they think that the government might use Nesterman to get something solid on Underwood and not care what happened to the scientist in the process. Crandall's idea is to get someone in contact with Underwood to offer a deal, even promising not to press charges if necessary. The hope is that once he hears about Nesterman's journal, he'll be willing to negotiate."

  "Underwood must be pretty desperate for something to go out on the limb this far."

  "I'm not so sure. I think Underwood guessed Nesterman was not the type to brag about the offer or to report a threat supposedly from someone as powerful as Underwood. Up to a point he was right. He just hadn't counted on a smart wife getting into the picture. But then he's never been married, so what does he know?

  "You'll get a clear picture of just how good Underwood is at evasion from the reports in the file on him." Dokes placed another file on top of the Nesterman case file. "You might want to call John to see if he's got anything else you might use."

  Steve's brother, John, had never been interested in their father's adventures. Eight years her junior, John was the passive one, perfectly happy to sit behind a desk at the Internal Revenue Service, shuffling papers all day long. The IRS would definitely be one of those agencies thrilled to get something dirty on Underwood and to hell with anybody who got stepped on while they went after him. John hated it when she asked him for information, but he usually came through for her.

  "Whatever cover you decide on, it had better be pretty convincing. You've got to get past a corps of secretaries and bodyguards before you can get near Underwood. He's got offices all over the country. Go where you have ta go. QRTs picking up the expenses, but keep an eye on them anyway. We still have to justify what it costs, especially if we come up empty-handed. Well, what are you waiting for? You have a lot of reading to do before you get started."

  "Yes, sir." Steve quickly stood up and picked up the files.

  "Steve?"

  "Yes, sir?" She stopped in his doorway and turned back to him.

  "Regular check-ins, right?" He used his Uncle Lou voice.

  "Yes, sir." Steve began to leave when he stopped her again.

  "Barbanell!" He switched to his senior partner voice. "By the book!"

  "Aye, aye, sir!" Steve saluted and headed for her office.

  * * * *

  Reviewing the files did not take as long as Steve had anticipated. The trainee had done an excellent job of collating the information, and Steve promptly wrote a memo to Lou stating her opinion of the young woman's work. She never wanted to forget what it was like to be a rookie, or how important a few strokes could be.

  She spent the afternoon in San Jose talking to Nesterman's wife and his coworkers at QRT. It was not that she had additional questions; she simply wanted to get a personal feel for the missing man.

  There were no surprises at the office. Karl Nesterman was well liked and trusted. Bob Crandall was torn between concern for his employee and sweating bullets over the fate of the project on which Nesterman was working.

  Evelyn Nesterman was warmly receptive to Steve's questions, even though it was probably the tenth time she had answered them. Her frustration and nervous fatigue poked through a strained veil of optimism. Steve reinforced the woman's rationale that her husband was alive. Whoever kidnapped him most certainly wanted his intelligence and knowledge, and they would have to keep him healthy to take advantage of them.

  Satisfied with the interviews, Steve was doubly pleased to be heading home to Kensington ahead of rush-hour traffic. She decided to surprise her mom and the kids by taking them out for pizza and a movie when it wasn't even Saturday night.

  Staying home with them last week had been an eye-opening experience. Unlike previous vacations, there were no structured plans or hectic racing from one activity to another. With no school for the children, there was nothing but time together, time to play, time to love, time to get on each other's nerves. Although her mother insisted Steve and her brother had behaved exactly the same way, Steve had not realized her five- and-seven-year-olds fought constantly about everything. Nor had she ever noticed just how many times her mother repeated the same bit of news or advice. Steve knew she was not alone with her mixed feelings of love, disappointment, and guilt, and she tried to be as honest with herself as possible about all of it.

  She loved her family, but she would never have been happy being a full-time mother. She loved her work, and would never have been satisfied if she had not followed her dream, but she also would have had an enormous void in her life if she had never given birth to Mary Ann and Vince. As long as she needed to work to support her family, at least she was one of the fortunate ones, doing something she enjoyed and having the support of a kindhearted mother.

  When Steve had returned to northern California after her divorce, she had happily accepted her mother's invitation to move into the big empty house where Steve and John had grown up. Ann Ohara had deeply loved her husband and had taken care of him all their married life. She needed to be needed, and Steve needed a responsible, live-in caretaker if she was going to make her dream come true. Steve automatically stepped into her father's shoes as the family breadwinner and, along with her children, the recipient of her mother's abundant attentions.

  She pulled her vintage Mustang into the driveway of the split-level home that she still thought of as her father's. It was an older home with small bathrooms and smaller closets, but it was paid for, with only taxes to worry about each year. Even though it was worth a small fortune today, there was no place in the San Francisco area they could move without incurring a huge mortgage. Her mother would never be as comfortable anywhere else anyway.

  After Vinnie had left her, Steve had wondered if she would ever meet anyone else who would want to marry her with or without two babies. She had fretted over the idea of leaving her mother alone again. But there had been no reason for her concern. Vinnie had been right. No other man had shown her more than a passing interest since the divorce.

  Steve could hear the German shepherd, Mr. Spock, barking the second she closed her car door. By the time she reached the front door, little arms circled her thighs and waist and two paws landed heavily on her chest. All three got the customary hug, kiss, and knuckle rub on the top of the head. Then normal chaos returned.

  "Ma-a-w-m-e-e! Vince took one of my Barbie dolls and ripped its head off, and Mr. Spock picked it up in his mouth and now I can't find it anywhere! I think he ate it!" Mary Ann whined in a voice that threatened the safety of every glass window on the block. She squeezed a tear out of one eye to show how devastated she was.

  Not to be outdone, Vince screamed, "I did not!" repeatedly throughout her speech, backed up by the dog's barking. It was impossible to tell whose side

  Mr. Spock was on, or if he was simply defending himself against
Mary Ann's accusations.

  "It was her fault," Vince added when Steve raised an eyebrow at him. "She called me a baby, and—"

  Steve cut off the rest of his excuse and restored order with a tried and true method—distraction and bribery. "How about pizza and a movie tonight?" It almost worked, until they discovered they could now fight about which movie they would see.

  "You're home early, honey. You're not in trouble with Lou again are you?" Ann did not wait for an answer before going on. "Would you like a glass of wine? The Krebbs's cat got in our yard again today. Poor Mr. Spock almost went right through the window trying to get at it. I don't see why they can't keep that thing tied up."

  Steve smiled and gave her mom a hug and kiss on the cheek. "No wine, thanks. I'm going to change into jeans. After a week in comfortable clothes, this suit felt like a straitjacket all day."

  Heading down the hall, Steve could hear her mother's voice rising above the children's in an attempt to get them to behave. Just as there was a lot of love in their house, there was an awful lot of noise. Except late at night—after baths and prayers and excuses to stay up longer, after tea and a replay of the day with Mom, after the newscasters said good night. Alone in her small bedroom, it was very, very quiet.

  Chapter Three

  A stranger in a strange land.—Exodus II

  From the Underwood Financial Center Steve had an excellent view of the Transamerica Pyramid. She could not help but speculate if Gordon Underwood felt a prick of jealousy when he stood at the entrance of his older, more conservative building, or if he pretended the architectural attraction did not exist. In reviewing the information gathered on Underwood, Steve learned he spent more time in his San Francisco office than any of the others. Its proximity made her decision to start there inevitable.