F. Paul Wilson - All the Rage

"That was what I thought," he said, running a hand through his thinning hair. "So I checked. Sutton Square is a little cul-de-sac off Sutton Place at the very end of East Fifty-eighth Street. Eight town houses at most. Very exclusive."

"But didn't you tell me the call was made from a pay phone in the East Eighties?"

Mihailo shrugged. "That's where the trace went."

Milos remembered the drab Buick on the tape last night. "A very ordinary car for someone at such a fancy address."

"I know. Could be a live-in maid."

"Could be."

Milos pondered this. If the owner had been from Jackson Heights or Levittown, he'd have dropped it. But if this Gia DiLauro was rich enough or connected to someone rich enough to live in an exclusive spot on the East Side—only thirty blocks from where that arrogant shit called last night—she easily could be connected to someone with a place out here. So she or someone close to her could be involved with the so-called protection committee.

"Tell Vuk and Ivo I want to see them."

They'd seen the couple on the beach. He'd send them into the city to check on this Gia DiLauro. If she was the same woman, they'd find out the name of the man.

And if he or she was in any way involved…

Milos ground a fist into his palm until it hurt.

The phrase scorched earth lingered in his mind.

7

"… Until then, think about hocking everything you own, begging, borrowing, and stealing every dime you can lay your hands on, and putting it all into GEM stock. Love ya. Bye."

The words echoed in Nadia's head as she walked down a sunny Park Avenue South—a different Park Avenue from the Waldorf neighborhood farther uptown. The sidewalks here were lined with office buildings and businesses instead of luxury residences.

She'd listened to the message twice on her voice mail before deleting it. Doug had sounded so strange. He'd probably been up all night, and that would explain it, but still… she wasn't sure she liked this manic side of him.

And worse, this was distracting her from her work. Not that she was getting anywhere. She'd spent yesterday and all this morning reviewing Dr. Monnet's failed approaches, and it seemed to her that he'd exhausted every possible route. Then she'd reviewed her predecessor's notes and seen that Macintosh had come up with new approaches, but none of those had worked either. Where to go from here? It was frustrating the hell out of her.

Nadia walked along tree-lined Twentieth Street until she came to the Gramercy Tavern. She wound her way through the crowded front room with its bar, wooden floors, and bare tables, and spotted Doug waving to her from the rear dining area. Carpeting and tablecloths back here.

She smelted scotch on his breath as he kissed her and pulled out her chair. His eyes were bright with triumph.

"How did you ever get a table?" she said as she sat.

The Gramercy was one of the city's hotter restaurants.

"Holiday weekend," Doug said. "All the regulars are out of town, I guess. Can I order you a chardonnay?"

Nadia shook her head. "Just an iced tea." She was heading back to the lab after this.

"Aw, come on," he said, grinning. "We're celebrating."

"Celebrating what, Doug?" she said, feeling an edge creep into her voice. "You call and leave this strange message, then when I try to call back I can't get through on any of your phones—"

"I pulled an all-nighter and was trying to get some sleep."

"I figured that, but meanwhile I'm left in the dark."

Doug reached across and took her hand. "Sorry. I've had tunnel vision for the last couple of days. A hack isn't something you can snack at-—you know, do a little bit now, take a break, come back and do a little bit latter. It's like a supercomplex juggling act where you keep trying to get more and more balls into the air. Once you've got them moving and you've found the rhythm, you've got to stay with them. If you stop, even for a short nap, you lose the cadence and they all come crashing down. Then you've got to go back and start again with ball one."

The waiter arrived with their menus and a bread basket. Doug ordered Nadia's iced tea.

"But why go to all that trouble?" she said when they were alone again. "You're risking—"

"Because I've been lied to," he said, his mouth taking a grim turn. "They were keeping things from me and I was determined to find out what."

"And are you satisfied now?" Nadia said, squeezing his hand and praying he'd say yes.

He shook his head. "Not completely."

"Oh, Doug," Nadia said, feeling her heart sink, "you're not going to keep this up, are you?"

He grinned. "Nope. It's too wearing. I still don't know why the company's paying me commissions on sales I'm not making, but at least they're not cheating me, so I can let that go. And I did learn one answer I was looking for—the one that concerns you—so I feel I can back off with my pride intact."

A twinge of alarm ran down Nadia's neck. "Me? What concerns me?"

"Your subsidiary. I found where all the research and development money is going."

Nadia couldn't help but ask. "Where?"

"Stock." Another grin. He looked like a little boy who'd found pirate treasure. "They're using every spare penny to buy back company stock." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "And let's not mention the company by name, OK? Just in case."

Nadia glanced around. In case what? He didn't think he was being followed, did he?

"No, I'm not paranoid," he said, as if reading her mind, "but you never know." He straightened. "Anyway, I matched the timing of the stock purchases to a graph of the stock price, and it seems that every time the price takes a little dip, they buy up a bunch of it."

"Propping up the price? Why would they do that?"

"I can't imagine. But I can imagine why they'd be secretly hoarding a load of stock. Think about it: if you had insider knowledge that the stock price was going to jump, wouldn't you want to pick up as many shares as possible—without tipping anyone off, of course."

"But that's not only illegal, it's stupid. And as the principals in the company, they each must hold a ton of shares already."

He shrugged. "Since when does greed know limits? The important thing is that they must think the stock is going to be very valuable. And that, my dear, is a good thing to know."

Nadia caught herself running through the sources she might tap for a loan and pulled up short.

"Why?" She couldn't keep the note of reproach out of her tone. "So we can use this stolen information and load up on shares?"

Doug glanced away, then back at her. "Does sound tacky, doesn't it." He sighed. "Easy money… it's such a high. I suppose I'm as vulnerable as the next guy. Seemed like a great idea… get that start-up money and go to work for myself. Now, sitting here with you, it seems kind of sleazy."

"I can't quite take on the holier-than-thou role. For a few moments there I was thinking about how a windfall from a sure thing like that could affect my mother's standard of living—and my own."

"What's that make us?"

"Human, I guess. Though some people would call us stupid humans for not jumping on it."

Doug caressed the back of her hand. "I'll never feel stupid if I'm with you."

She laughed. "How many scotches have you had?"

He only smiled and she knew the love in his eyes was reflected in her own.

They sat in silence for a while. Finally Nadia voiced a question that had been bothering her. "What I'd like to know is what do they have up their sleeves that makes them so sure the stock is going to jump?"

"Only two things I can think of." Doug held up a finger. "They're expecting a takeover bid." Another finger popped up alongside the first. "Or… they're expecting a major breakthrough, like a new product that's going to take the market by storm." He pointed both fingers at Nadia. "Hey… maybe it's the project you're working on. Maybe you're the key to the company's future."