The diary and rosebud fell from her nerveless fingers. “No,” she moaned, staggering backward and collapsing on the bed. She drew her knees up to her chest, curling into a tight ball.

  The intensity of the betrayal flayed her heart. Tears began to seep out from beneath her closed eyes.

  Had it all been an elaborate charade to sucker her into believing Jonathan Michaels was still alive? But why? Why would anyone want to pull so cruel a trick on her? What advantage would it be to anyone if she believed Jon alive?

  “Lauren, are you ready yet?” Donald impatiently called out.

  Donald. His name rang through her brain. So lost had she been in her misery that she’d completely forgotten him, sitting in the other room.

  “Not quite,” she answered, struggling to sit up. “Give me a few more moments.”

  “Lauren, it is very important I be on time.” Now, instead of a sulky boy, he sounded like a father reprimanding an errant child. “I have to meet this Polish businessman who is wanting our firm to service several of his operations.”

  Good old Donald. Business before anything else, even his heart. Or maybe his work was the true love of his life and she was simply an afterthought.

  “If I’m not ready in five minutes,” she called out, anger quickly replacing the raw pain, “leave without me.

  “Really, Lauren,” came his indignant reply.

  Wiping the tears from her face, she stood. She saw the diary and the rosebud lying on the floor. Picking them up, she paused, then brought the rosebud up to her nose. The sweet smell of the flower remained trapped within the dried, pressed petals. That day had been so special, one of the happiest days of her life. She shook off the memory. She felt like that rose, drained of all life and a shell of herself. Placing the rose inside her diary, she returned them to the drawer.

  With a steely determination, she promised herself she’d make it through this night, just as she had the countless other times when the pain in her heart had been achingly intense.

  As for Donald and the Jon impostor, they would get what they deserved.

  Nine minutes and thirty-four seconds later, she stepped out of the bedroom, dressed in a black chiffon sheath with spaghetti straps. Her hair was twisted into a French roll, a pearl comb holding her style in place. Rhinestone earrings were the only jewelry she wore. Her evening jacket was folded over her arm.

  Donald surveyed her from head to toe and nodded his approval. He helped her on with her jacket, then brushed a sexless kiss across her cheek. “We need to hurry.” He headed for the door, expecting her to follow like a well-trained dog.

  Irritation spurted through her veins. She had nearly killed herself to get ready, and all he could do was nod?

  She’d had enough of men at the moment and wished they all would vanish off the planet.

  Pausing at the door, he glanced over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

  He was definitely peeved with her, but it was filtered through his proper British upbringing. Well, too bad.

  “Yes.” And you’ll probably wish I hadn’t.

  Donald’s dark green Jaguar was parked in front of her building. He opened the passenger door and waited patiently for her to be seated.

  “Buckle your seat belt,” he commanded as he shut the door.

  As they drove through the city to the embassy, Lauren acknowledged to herself that Donald didn’t deserve the lion’s share of her anger. She had been well aware of his passion for business when she agreed to marry him, so she deserved part of the blame.

  “Lauren, why haven’t you mailed the invitations for your bridal shower? I saw them on the table. Weren’t they supposed to be posted by Wednesday at the latest?”

  Her life was crashing down around her ears, and Donald was worried about invitations. “I forgot.”

  “You know, you’ve been acting strangely lately.” Donald’s voice seemed excessively loud in the small confines of the car. “Why, even Father has commented on your odd behavior.”

  “It’s just stress, Donald. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  “But how could you have forgotten our appointment with the jeweler?” he asked as he pulled into the driveway of the Swedish embassy.

  Believe me, it wasn’t hard. The thought popped into her head. Lauren glanced at him. He deserved an explanation, if not an apology. “I’m sorry, Donald. I’ll admit it was rude of me not to call. But it simply slipped my mind. The accident did shake me up.”

  “Accident?” He frowned, then said, “Ah, yes, the one your cook told me about.” He pulled up to the front door, got out, motioning for her to do the same in order to allow the attendant to park the car. “Well, I hope this tendency of yours disappears quickly,” he muttered as he took her arm to walk her to the door.

  Lauren stared at him in disbelief. He wasn’t concerned for her safety or glad she wasn’t hurt. No, he was simply annoyed she’d missed their appointment. That did it.

  “Donald, we need to talk.”

  Unaware of her reaction, he continued moving her into the building. “In a moment, dear. I have to see if Mr. Kowalski is here.” He dashed through the crowd, leaving her by the front door.

  The temptation to turn around and walk out was enticing for Lauren. But that would be cowardly, she told herself. It would also put off her confrontation with Donald. And she wanted that over as soon as possible.

  A waiter strode by with a tray of drinks. Lauren grabbed a glass of champagne.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Donald asked, suddenly reappearing, taking the drink from her hand. “You know alcohol makes you sick. I don’t need you disgracing yourself in front of Mr. Kowalski like you did with Mr. Reins.” He spoke to the waiter. “Do you have any ginger ale?”

  “At the bar.”

  Donald placed his hand on her back and steered her through the crowd to the corner bar. The feel of his hand on her bare skin made her muscles stiffen. Never before had Donald’s touch made her want to draw away from him. It was an intimacy she should’ve welcomed. She didn’t.

  Apparently her reaction got his attention. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Donald, I need to talk to you.”

  “Not now, Lauren. After you meet Mr. Kowalski, we’ll have time to talk.”

  “No, now.”

  “Lauren,” he urged, taking a step closer to her. “That’s Kowalski coming toward us. Smile.”

  Lauren tried to make polite small talk with the handsome young man through her brittle smile. But each time Donald put a hand on her, her shoulder, her back, her waist, she stepped away from his touch. She tried not to make it obvious, but finally Kowalski commented.

  “Is something wrong, Ms. Michaels?”

  Lauren felt Donald go stiff and out of the corner of her eye she saw his cheeks turn an unbecoming shade of red.

  “No, of course not. Donald is a wonderful businessman. You’ll be very satisfied with his company.”

  They chatted courteously for a few more minutes before Kowalski excused himself. Donald grasped her arm and led her out the French doors onto the balcony.

  “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my entire life as I just was a moment ago in front of that man. Would you care to explain your behavior?” Donald demanded. His eyes bulged with his anger. “You could’ve cost me Kowalski’s business.”

  His response floored her. “Is that all you can think about, Donald? Your business?”

  “What would you have me think about?” he countered. From his expression he probably didn’t have a clue as to why she was upset.

  “I’ve been trying to tell you something since the moment we stepped into the embassy, only you’ve refused to listen.”

  “Well, I’ll say your timing is most inappropriate, Lauren. Why couldn’t it have waited until we went back to your flat?”

  She had tried to wait, but he had kept touching her and her body had reacted without consulting her brain. “Donald, I can’t marry you.”

  His expression didn’t change. “Quit kidding. Now, tell me what is troubling you.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “Of course not. Why would you want to end our engagement?”

  “How about the fact that you don’t love me as much as you love your precious catering business? I come in a poor second to canapés.” Her voice rose with each word.

  He glanced around to make sure they had not attracted a crowd. “Lauren, please, lower your voice.”

  “That’s a perfect example. You’re more worried about creating a scene than about the fact I just told you I don’t want to marry you.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Am I?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, then let me make it perfectly clear. You don’t love me. But that’s okay, because I don’t love you.. .not the way I should.” She couldn’t meet his eyes at that moment, not after what she’d just said. She tried to push past him, but he caught her arm.

  “Lauren,” he chided, “you’re being too emotional about this.”

  She glanced down at his hand on her upper arm, then at his face. “Let go of me, Donald, or I’ll not be responsible for what I do.”

  The threat in her voice got through to him. He abruptly released her and stepped away. It was then that Lauren noticed they had drawn a crowd. With her head held high, she marched through the onlookers.

  She called a cab and waited for it outside the embassy gate. She hadn’t meant for the gathered throng to hear her break her engagement, but they had. Donald was probably more upset by the fact others had heard than by the fact that she’d ended their relationship.

  She glanced up into the clear evening sky. It had been a jim-dandy day. If the sky fell down on her, it wouldn’t surprise her.

  The taxi honked. Shaking off her depressing thoughts, she climbed into the back seat.

  “Where to?” the cabbie asked.

  She should go back to Jimmy’s flat and confront her impostor with her diary. But she was too tired for that right now. She wanted to go back to her own little flat, crawl under the covers and go to sleep. Tomorrow would be soon enough to cross swords with the man who claimed to be Jon.

  She gave the cabbie the address of her flat.

  Jon paced around the small confines of the living room. He had given up trying to concentrate on the computer files a half hour ago. Jealousy and worry had eaten at him like battery acid, burning away every other thought but Lauren.

  He paused and glanced at his watch for the tenth time in the past five minutes—1700 hours. Lauren had been gone four hours and thirty-seven minutes.

  He was tempted to go over to the Swedish embassy and pluck Lauren out of Donald Blake’s clutches. Then he would take her back to her apartment and make love to her until her mind was so full of him that there was no room for any other man.

  “You’re thinking like a trained idiot,” he muttered sarcastically to himself. What use was he to anyone when all he could think about was Lauren? Was she safe? Was she enjoying herself with Donald?

  The thoughts were driving him crazy. Since he wasn’t making any progress here, he might as well go to Lauren’s flat and wait for her fiancé to bring her home. He would check out the flat and make sure it was safe, he told himself.

  Before he left, he decided to call his boss. Maybe this time Diamond would be there.

  Luck was with him, because Diamond picked up after the first ring. “Hello.”

  “Diamond, this is Sapphire.”

  “I’m glad you called. Did you get my package?”

  “Yeah, it’s been delivered. What’s been going on? I’ve tried for two days to contact you.”

  “All hell has broken loose. You want to know about the disaster in the Middle East? Or how about the singleton I had to pull in Beijing? Or about the Central African—”

  “I get the idea.”

  “Give me your number.”

  Until now Jon hadn’t felt safe leaving his number and location on a recorder. Anyone with access to Diamond’s office could have gotten the information, and enough had already gone wrong in this investigation. He didn’t need any more problems. He rattled off the number. “Were you able to get someone to check out Lauren’s apartment?”

  “You lucked out, partner. You remember Carol Holland?”

  He remembered Carol from the time they were stationed together in Poland. “Yeah.”

  “Well, she was en route to Washington from her latest posting. She was at Gatwick so she checked out Lauren’s place. It was free of any bugs, and Carol didn’t see any signs that the place was being watched. But she did report she ran into a woman coming out of Lauren’s apartment. After Carol described the woman, we discovered it was Lauren herself. That wasn’t smart of you to let her go there before it was checked out.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. I told her not to go. She didn’t listen.”

  There was a long silence at the other end. Finally Diamond asked, “How hard did you try?”

  The question slammed into Jon with the force of a high-speed train. Had he tried hard enough to stop Lauren? Or had he on some deep, unconscious level let her go out as bait? It was a sickening thought. “You must think I’m a sorry SOB if you think I didn’t try to stop her.”

  “Vengeance is a powerful motivation.”

  “Vengeance against who? Lauren? You’re out of your ever-loving mind if you think that.”

  “Against the mole.”

  “And you think I would put Lauren in an unsafe position just so I could use her as bait.”

  There was a long pause. “No, but I had to ask.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have to like it one damn bit.”

  “Sapphire. Sapphire?”

  “What?”

  “There’s been another theft from a NATO contractor.”

  That information snapped him out of his dark thoughts. “Who?”

  “Jensen Brothers, headquartered in Amsterdam. This theft didn’t occur on sight. It happened when the part was shipped to its final destination to be put together with—”

  “The other components that were missing?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Tony and I wondered if those parts went together, but the people in the companies didn’t know.”

  “That’s because they weren’t told. I’ve got a friend in naval intelligence. We went to lunch today. While he was in my office, he saw the name of the company in Amsterdam and asked me about it. After we did some dancing around, he fessed up that that manufacturer was working on a new radar system for NATO.”

  Jon grinned at the thought of Diamond trying to pump his friend for information and vice versa. It must have been quite a sight.

  “The program was designed by a man named Alfred Fox. After the numerous thefts of NATO technology, the program director decided to break up the new radar system into key components and parcel them out to different manufacturers. None of the manufacturers knew of the others and none knew what they were making.”

  “No wonder we had so much trouble.”

  “Apparently our mole obtained the plans and started systematically stealing the individual parts. With this last theft, he now owns one complete system.”

  Jon cursed, a crude Anglo-Saxon profanity.

  “My sentiments exactly. Now the only question is, to whom is our mole going to market the system?”

  The feeling of helplessness that had settled over Jon while he was in the hospital rested again on his shoulders.

  “How long ago did the burglary occur?”

  “A couple of days.”

  “How did you find out about it?”

  “It was reported to NATO officials.”

  “There’s a common thread that ties all these thefts together—I know it, Diamond. Tony found it and died because he knew. And when I discover what it is, I think we’ll be able to pinpoint who is working with our mole and how their ROSES network operates.” Tony had originally come up with the moniker for the spy ring using the first letter of the name of each of the first five companies that had had secrets stolen. The acronym had stuck. “Who at London station knew about the radar system?”

  “I don’t know. Since naval intelligence was the one guarding the plans, I’ll have to contact my friend.”

  “So while we are losing agents and trying to figure out what’s going down, the brains in the Office of Naval Intelligence are sitting on their butts, guarding their information.”

  “You know how this game is played.”

  “Yeah, and it sucks.”

  “When humans change their basic nature, then things will change.”

  Jon knew exactly what Diamond was talking about. Count on the worst from a person, because you usually got it. “Can you get me Alfred Fox’s address and number? Maybe the mole stole the plans at their source.”

  “All right. And I’ll check and see who in London had access to the radar plans.”

  “I’ll keep looking through the files I have to see if I can find the common link. Also, can you find out for me how that last robbery took place?”

  “Sure. Take care.”

  Jon hung up the phone and leaned back against the sofa. It was a radar system that was the cause of the latest thefts. Had Tony known that or had he simply discovered how the prototypes were stolen so easily from each of these high-security plants?

  Why hadn’t the ONI come clean with them and told them how the thefts had been connected? They might have been able to prevent this last one. Too bad all the intelligence agencies in the U.S. government didn’t realize they were all working for the same goal.

  Jon’s knuckles gripped the head of his cane with such force that the metal cut into his skin. He wrestled with his anger against the petty men who had to have their little empires at the cost of Tony’s life.

  He stood, fighting the building rage. Suddenly it erupted, and he smashed the lamp on the end table with his cane. Why did Tony have to be sacrificed?

  What about Lauren? a voice in his head asked. Would she end up like Tony, the victim of the spy game he played? Was he any different from the men responsible for Tony’s death? Hadn’t he inadvertently contaminated Lauren by contacting her?