Touch of Magic (26 page)

Treason. Ellery's mind replayed the word. It was something out of law texts, not part of day-to-day
life. Until now.

They were nearing a door to the lodge. He looked
at Channing. If State had a crooked agent, catching him was just as important as switching the film.
Maybe more so. She understood that.

The hell of it was, he couldn't think of anyone else
he'd feel even halfway comfortable asking for help.

He wanted to protect her, yet to do so would deny
some vital part of her.

"Better clean up," he said, stopping to survey her.
"I'd rather give you credit for your rescue efforts,
but if no one knows who bailed me out, you'll stand
a better chance of peddling your story."

"You want me to go in as if I've been strolling
around the grounds or something?"

"Right. I'll use another door and go up to the
listening post. Meet me there and we'll play it the
same."

One sleeve of her gold jacket had split loose from
the shoulder seam to hang raggedly. She took the
jacket off and swung it over her shoulder.

"Have a comb?" She began to remove the few pins left straggling from her hair.

"Do I look like Max?" He grinned. "Never carry
one."

Licking the inside of his wrist, he reached out to
wipe the worst of the smudges from her temple.

"Cleaner than my hands," he said. "Don't worry.
I've had all my shots."

He felt linked to her, briefly light and sure of himself despite their situation. They were starting to click like a team, a very different team from the
one he and Sam had been. He rested his hand on
her shoulder.

"You're damned good," he said. "I don't think
I've ever told you that."

She smiled.

Ellery started to wonder how much attention he was likely to attract getting into the lodge and up
the elevator. His shirt was torn and he wore
ground
in
dust from collar to sneakers. His jacket was wrapped around his hand to hide the .38 he held in
readiness.

Over Channing's shoulder he surveyed the lobby.
No sign of anyone who should put them immedi
ately on their guard ...

He stopped, irritation flaring and waning again,
as he realized it probably wasn't her doing. Not any
more than
Serafin's
stowing away. The woman in
front of him simply inspired loyalties on a different
level than most people did. He'd have to accept it.

"One thing," he said slowly, amusement nudging
against the tension inside him. "Could you at least
spare me the white rabbits?"

She frowned in puzzlement, then turned to fol
low his gaze. Ellery heard her teeth grind as she
spotted the bent, hook-nosed form of her house
man.

Eighteen

Rundell
unfolded his stooped frame from a
lobby couch with amazing alacrity. By the time
Channing heard the entry door whoosh shut behind
her, he was tottering in a beeline toward her, his expression more puckered than usual, a critical
glint in his eye. She felt, for some reason that mysti
fied her, like a kid caught skipping school.

"
Rundell
!" she said in a hiss. "What the hell are
you doing here?"

"Finding out what the hell you want with a card
shaver, madam." His teeth snapped shut. He
scowled. "When has a Stuart ever cheated at cards?
When has a Stuart ever needed to mark cards for a
trick- -"

"I ought to can you!" Channing said, interrupt
ing, almost as annoyed by his misjudgment of her as
she was by his appearance here. "I need it to repair
a piece of apparatus - - and I needed it this morning,
dammit
!"

From the corner of her eye she could see Wilbur
peering out the door to his office. No doubt
Rundell
had cut quite a figure inquiring for her.
Serafin
, his
expression one of commiseration, scuttled past Wil
bur and started toward them.

"Rubbish," said
Rundell
. His teeth clicked again.

At least he had the decency to keep his voice to a whisper, Channing thought. She held out her hand. With a sniff
Rundell
handed her the small envelope
she knew to be the card shaver.

Serafin
scooted to a stop behind her elbow.

"I tried to tell him everything was mellow, but he
wouldn't leave," the boy said desperately.

He and
Rundell
glared at each other.

"I'm due a vacation, madam."
Rundell's
tone was
truculent. "It's been eight years since- -"

"Yes. Fine. Stay, by all means."

The best way to deal with
Rundell
had always been to keep him off-balance. Arguing would get
her nowhere. Sobered by the knowledge of what
she and Ellery were facing, and aware that she was losing time that could be vital, she pressed ahead.

"Check in if you haven't already."

There was always the chance
Rundell
could
prove useful. He kept his head about things. She'd
feel more certain of
Serafin's
safety with him
around too. Crooking her arm through
Rundell's
,
she started toward the elevators.

"I want
Serafin
to stay with you tonight. Don't do
anything or go anywhere without clearing it with
me. And don't say anything about seeing one of the men who came to the house. It could cost him - - or
me - - our lives. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, madam."
Rundell's
hooked nose had raised majestically. He was practically smirking.
"Why do you think I showed up here? Only a blith
ering idiot would believe that crap about a charity
gig. I knew you were getting yourself into some sort
of mess."

*
  
*
  
*

"I didn't hear a thing," Walker mumbled. "Had those earphones on - - is he going to be okay?"

He was holding his head, the plump lines of his
face like the underbelly of a thundercloud. Ellery
knelt over Max's prostrate form, a cold washcloth
pressed to the back of Max's head.

"Yeah, looks like just the same as you got. I don't
suppose you found anything in
Ballieu's
room?"

Walker scowled.

"Not
diddly
-squat. And no one showed up for a
pickup, either."

He sounded defensive.

Ellery nodded. He'd found them both sprawled
unconscious. It had taken several minutes to bring
Walker around. Now there was a knock at the door.
Muttering under his breath, Walker rose to check
the peephole and let Channing enter.

"How'd we do?" she asked almost gaily. "I stayed
for a drink with somebody after the show. I thought
it might look better than coming straight up. My
God, you're filthy, Ellery! What did you get into out
there?"

Somehow the dishevelment of her hair seemed
deliberate, Ellery marveled. She carried her jacket
slung casually across her shoulder. Substantial as it
had been, the ripped seam wasn't apparent. For
half a second Ellery wondered if she'd switched the
garment or turned it inside out or actually had some
trick for restoring things. Then he recognized it
must have something to do with the way she'd
folded it, and her inherent showmanship.

"Max and Walker both got
beaned
on the back of the head, and things didn't go much better for me."
Ellery thought they played well together. He
shared a look with her, wondering how much of what he'd found here was true. Beneath the outer
brightness of her eyes he could see she was thinking
the same.

A groan gurgled out as Max began to come to.

"Take it easy," Ellery said.

Max's eyes fluttered open. He saw Ellery,
squinted, then blinked in confusion.

"What- -?"

Once again Ellery felt his gaze being drawn to
Channing's. Could either of the men in this room be acting?

"Looks like we got ambushed all around," he said.
"I was first prize in a shooting gallery out there."

"I told you I should back you up," said Channing.
The tone she adopted now was one shade short of cross. "How'd you get out?"

"Some kid who'd been out taking his girl home."
Ellery grinned. "Saw one too many movies, I guess.
Heard a couple of shots and headed his truck right
in to see the action."

Infrared was good enough to pinpoint a vehicle
but not to identify it beyond a vague shape. His
story should hold.

"A kid in a truck?" sputtered Walker.

Max was pulling himself to a sitting position, a
hand to the base of his skull. Channing pointed sud
denly to the monitor showing the door to
Ballieu's
room.

"Look!"

His profile to them,
Ballieu
was unlocking the
door. He went inside. Max was squinting again. He
stared at the screen. His mouth was agape.

"You trying to tell us
Ballieu's
on to us?" he asked.

No eye contact, Ellery noted. He hated watching men he'd worked with as though they were crimi
nals.

"Looks like it," he said.

"Then why would he come back?"

"Because he's smart, man." Walker sounded irritable. "He can't get the film because it's locked up
somewhere with a time bomb. He's waiting us out."
Taking a fresh cigar, he stuffed the end into his
mouth. "
Ballieu
figures even if he'd picked one of us
off tonight, we'd leave him be until he led us to that
film."

"Crazy bastard," Max grunted, staggering to his feet. "Must have nerves of steel." He winced and gave Ellery a glum look. "Now what?"

"I'd say we might as well sleep on it," said Ellery
mildly. Too mildly? he wondered. Both men were staring at him. "I'll be in at four to take the graveyard shift."

Channing shrugged as though concluding noth
ing of consequence was likely to happen and drifted
out ahead of him. She deserved double credit, Ellery thought, first for what she'd done tonight and
then for not having it recognized.

"We'd better get rid of my car," she said when
he'd closed the door and they started down the hall
in step together. "If someone gets a good look at the
shape it's in, they're likely to call the police."

"I've already put in a call about it," he said. “While I was waiting for Walker to come around.
Somebody will take it away and bring mine in."

His mind was moving in other directions as he spoke.
Ballieu
must be feeling pressured to have sprung the ambush, and with time slipping by and
the knowledge he was being watched, he might
strike again.

Ellery slanted a look at the woman beside him, hardening himself with a discipline he knew was
necessary. He watched her eyes darken as he spoke.

"Come get the gun."

Nineteen

They moved across the now nearly deserted terraces and down the path to Ellery's bungalow in silence. On a bench a pair of lovers were scanning the stars for the Big Dipper. Cool night air permeated the plants and shadows. The noisy resort had
changed personalities, becoming soft and
oasislike
,
and Channing felt the irony of knowing the world
she and Ellery moved in was a world apart.

Beside her Ellery moved at an easy, unhurried
pace she sensed was deceiving. The wadded jacket
was carried too casually in his hand. Despite her
own sharpened alertness, she felt almost light.
Oddly, the weariness that should be settling in after
tonight's wear and tear had evaporated in a strange flow of energy. She stopped as Ellery motioned to
her. His eyes analyzed every detail of the bungalow
door before he opened it. For a moment she shiv
ered, alone, while he slipped inside.