“Vaguely.”

  “My leg cramped and—”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember.”

  “Dr. Alfred Fox might be our best lead in tracking down the mole. It’s worth us driving to Glasgow and talking to him.”

  “Are you going to let me drive?” she asked.

  “I’d better. You’re the only one with a valid driver’s license. There’s no reason to get hauled to jail over a simple thing like that.”

  They arrived in Glasgow well past nine in the evening. The drive had been long and slow with a wreck on the M5 just outside Bristol and the detour around Carlisle. When they arrived in Glasgow, Jon called Diamond from a phone booth.

  “Were you able to set up a meeting with Dr. Fox?”

  “Yeah, and it cost me all my markers. Dr. Fox is expecting you. Use your P.I. cover. Mention the Jensen Brothers, and he’ll know it’s okay to talk to you. Also, the professor knows about the thefts.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be in contact soon.”

  Jon hurried back to the car and they drove to Dr. Fox’s house.

  “I want you to wait in the car,” Jon told Lauren.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve got a plausible cover story for me. I don’t have one for you.”

  She pursed her lips, and her fingers tapped on the steering wheel. “All right.”

  Dr. Alfred Fox was a short man with keen brown eyes shielded by his bifocals. He looked like a man who lived in a world of theory and atoms, as evidenced by the plaid shirt he wore with houndstooth check pants. His wife looked to be no help in the wardrobe department, since she wore a faded housedress with black socks and oxford shoes.

  “Dr. Fox, my name is Sam MacKinnon. I’ve been hired by Jensen Brothers to investigate a theft at their Amsterdam plant a couple of days ago.” Jon whipped out an identification card that confirmed he was Sam MacKinnon, private investigator, offices in London and Amsterdam.

  The older man gave Jon and his cane a suspicious look. “Who’s waiting out in the car for you?”

  Just what he didn’t need, a curious professor. He was sure that Dr. Fox hadn’t been briefed about Lauren. “My wife.”

  He peered out the door. “What’s she doing out there?”

  “We were taking a second honeymoon when my company called and asked me to come talk to you. We drove straight from Exeter.”

  “Have her come in. She must be hungry. The missus would like the company, wouldn’t you, Beth?”

  Mrs. Fox nodded her head. “I just baked shortbread.”

  The less people involved, the less chance something would go wrong. But from the stubborn look on the Scotsman’s face, Jon knew he didn’t have a choice. “I’ll get her.”

  Jon walked out to the car. Lauren rolled down the window when she saw him.

  A frown knitted her brow. “What’s wrong?”

  “Dr. Fox wants you to come inside and have shortbread with his wife.”

  Lauren’s jaw dropped.

  “My sentiments exactly. But at this point we don’t have a choice.” He opened the door for her. “Lauren, we’re playing a game here. I need for you to follow my lead. Don’t act surprised at anything.”

  He didn’t have time to say anything more because the Foxes were standing on the walkway to their modest house.

  Jon stopped and pulled Lauren forward. “Lauren, darling, this is Dr. Alfred Fox and his wife, Beth.”

  “Oh, my dear Mrs. MacKinnon,” Mrs. Fox said, stepping forward. “I’m so sorry that your second honeymoon was interrupted by business. But isn’t that the way with men. Always business first, never love.”

  Jon winced inwardly when Beth called Lauren “Mrs. MacKinnon.” Lauren, to her credit, didn’t so much as bat an eyelash, but smiled sweetly at the other woman. Lauren was learning much too quickly how to play the game of lie and learn.

  “You hit the nail on the head, Mrs. Fox,” Lauren replied.

  “Call me Beth. And may I call you Lauren?”

  “Of course.”

  Mrs. Fox grasped Lauren’s arm. “You men go and talk business. Then join us for tea and shortbread afterward.”

  Alfred Fox nodded. “Come on, Sam, let’s get business out of the way so we can join the ladies for the treat.”

  Lauren gave Jon a piercing glance. “Yes, Sam, hurry. We still have to find a hotel for the night.”

  “Oh, Al, we can’t let these honeymooners wander around the city looking for a room. We have an extra room. They can stay with us.”

  Jon didn’t know whether he should laugh or cry. It was a dream come true to be able to spend the night at the Foxes and have the run of the place. But he didn’t think Lauren would sit still for him slipping out of their room and snooping around. She could be so cranky when it came to spying.

  “Thank you, Beth,” Jon said. “But I’ve arranged a surprise for Lauren at a little out-of-the-way inn just north of the city. The Black Boot.”

  Beth beamed. “Oh, how romantic.” She turned to Lauren. “Al and I have been there. It’s a wonderful place with cozy little rooms that have fireplaces.”

  Jon breathed a sigh of relief that he remembered one of the women at the embassy talking about the weekend she and her husband spent at the Black Boot. It usually paid to listen to chitchat around the embassy. One never knew when a stray piece of information would come in handy.

  Beth leaned close and in a stage whisper said, “And they have the best stock of Scotch in the entire country. Of course, with your husband, I don’t think you’ll need anything more to warm your blood.”

  Lauren’s cheeks colored. She gave Jon what others thought was a smoldering look, but in the depths of her eyes, Jon saw her vexation.

  Alfred Fox motioned him down the hall. When they entered the study, Al grinned at Jon. “You’re a lucky man.”

  So lucky Jon hoped he would live through it. “Lauren is quite a woman.”

  Al sat behind his desk. “Now, what is it I can do for you?”

  “Jensen Brothers had a theft of a part they were manufacturing for NATO.”

  “Still, I don’t see how I can help you.”

  “The part was a piece of the radar system you developed for NATO.”

  The man stood. “I don’t know how the radar system was broken up.”

  “So, once you developed the prototype, you handed it over to NATO officials.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Where did you develop this prototype? Was it at the university or your office at Teltex?”

  “Teltex.”

  “Could anyone have seen it there?”

  He shook his head. “That lab is high security.”

  “Mind if I see the facility?”

  “Tonight? With your wife waiting?”

  This was getting more and more complicated.

  “I don’t think I could get you past the guards this late without prior notice. But tomorrow morning shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Jon wanted to go right now, but it wasn’t going to happen. “Could we meet at Teltex at ten tomorrow morning?”

  “That’s agreeable with me. Now, let’s join the ladies.”

  Lauren set down her toothbrush and rinsed her mouth. After she spit out the water, she raised her head and stared into the mirror. Confusion and turmoil darkened her green eyes, making them appear nearly black in the weak overhead light. Earlier this evening, when Jon had come out to the car and told her to follow his lead, she knew that she’d have to call on her poor acting abilities to get through the meeting. What she hadn’t counted on was the Foxes calling Jon “Sam MacKinnon.”

  Sam MacKinnon. The name of the detective in her mystery, How Tall is Red? Why had Jon used that name? The doubt that had crept into her mind when she watched him easily deceive the Foxes was negated by the use of the fictitious detective’s name.

  She picked up her toothbrush and toothpaste and headed back to their room. They’d been lucky again with the room; the Black Boot Inn had one left, a cancellation. When she entered the room, Jon was lying in bed, his arms crossed over his chest.

  She placed her things in her bag, then slipped off her robe and climbed between the sheets.

  “All right, Lauren, tell me what’s bothering you,” Jon commanded, a tired note in his voice.

  It didn’t surprise her that he had read her disquiet. He had proved himself time and time again the past few days. “I think you know, Sam.”

  He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Lauren, the main objective of a spy is to gain information without the party you’re spying on knowing that you are doing it.”

  She pursed her lips. “But Dr. Fox is on our side.”

  “We think. Besides, I couldn’t have walked into his house and said I’m.CIA, flashed a badge and asked if he knows—or if he is the one—who is double-crossing us. CIA doesn’t issue badges like the FBI. Our main objective is to remain behind the scene and when we go out, we have a cover story. Sam MacKinnon is one of my covers.”

  “So our government sponsors lying?”

  He gave her a piercing look. “You’re smarter than that, Lauren. All governments lie. It would be foolish for the US. to run around telling the truth, when all the other countries are lying on a daily basis.”

  Lauren sat up and wrapped her arm around her knee. “No matter who does it, or how many people or nations do it, lying is wrong.” She turned her head toward him. “And when you willingly lie, the only one you hurt is yourself.”

  His hand stroked down her hair. “You’re right, Lauren. Each time you lie, you lose a little part of yourself. I know.”

  “Has it been worth it?”

  His expression was sad. “No.” He reached up and turned off the lamp.

  “Why did you use Sam’s name?”

  “Do you need to ask?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because it brought me closer to you.”

  Enclosed in the darkness, Jon’s aching soul reached out to Lauren. He was hurting, and she couldn’t ignore his pain. Her hand groped over the bed until she found his hand. She laced her fingers through his and brought his hand to her lips.

  “Lauren.”

  It was a call for help. A drowning man grasping for a lifeline. She scooted across the space that separated them and slipped her arm around his waist. Her mouth settled on his, giving to him all the tenderness that was in her heart.

  There was nothing tame in Jon’s response. His arms clamped around her, and his lips devoured hers. The heat and passion coming off him singed her, but she didn’t care. This was right. This was something she could do to fight against the darkness that Jon lived and worked in.

  She wrenched her mouth free, then trailed soft kisses down the scar on his cheek. He didn’t try to fight her, but instead understood that she wanted to be the one to give this time.

  Her hands soothed over his chest. Her fingers traced the scar that curved over his side and ended at his hip. Her lips followed the path of her fingers.

  When she reached the end of the scar, Jon’s hands grasped her waist.

  “I can’t take any more.” With that, he settled her on himself.

  Lauren felt as if she’d been thrust into the heart of a furnace, tongues of flames surrounding her, eating her. She gave in to the consuming heat, crying out her joy. Jon followed her into the inferno.

  Afterward, in the ashes of that passion, Lauren felt a new peace.

  Jon listened to Lauren’s even breathing. His mind still reeled with the power of their lovemaking. He felt Lauren’s heart calling to him, pulling him out of the night that he knew so well, calling to a soul that was lost.

  He knew Lauren had been upset by the cover story he had used. It had been in every line of her body that the lies bothered her.

  What troubled him was Lauren’s attitude toward his business. She was a smart enough woman to know that deceit was an integral part of covert work. The question that gnawed at him was why wouldn’t she acknowledge and accept it? Her problem could be due to the fact that in Lauren’s past, she’d been hurt deeply by several stepfathers who’d lied through their teeth and hurt her and her mother.

  But if he was honest with himself, he would have to admit that he didn’t like involving Lauren in his lies. As a matter of fact, this time his cover hadn’t fit as well as it had in the past.

  Combined with the other things, Jon knew he was going to have some hard thinking to do about his future.

  At ten the next morning, Jon and Lauren met Alfred Fox at the front gate of the Teltex plant. Dr. Fox okayed their passage through the gate and past the guard. He then took them on a tour of the main plant and his lab. Jon couldn’t fault the security. It was tight and efficient.

  As they were leaving the building, Jon was still puzzling how anyone could have stolen secrets from Teltex. The theft had happened three years ago, but a review of Teltex procedures had concluded that the theft was not an inside job.

  “Jon, look.” Lauren pointed to a truck parked by a loading dock. “Blake Catering must have the contract for this site.”

  Like a bolt from the sky, the possibility of how the theft from Teltex occurred came to him. A catering company or other outside contractor. Like another bolt of lightning, he realized that the Teltex file he’d been reviewing made no mention of an outside catering firm holding a contract for an on-site cafeteria. What if all the plants that had been burglarized had outside catering companies? What if they all had the same catering company?

  “Does Blake Catering hold the contract for your cafeteria?” Jon asked Dr. Fox.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know for how long?”

  The older man rubbed his chin. “Let me see, they first came the year I had my gall bladder out. That was—” he scratched the side of his head “—almost four years ago.”

  Jon shook Dr. Fox’s hand. “Thank you, doctor, for all your help.”

  “What help?”

  “I think, doc, you gave me the key to the thefts.”

  Lauren waited until they were in the car before she asked Jon, “What key did you uncover?”

  He leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. “It was you who gave me the idea.”

  Her startled gaze flew to his. “How?” Unfortunately her hands followed her head, and the car veered to the left.

  “Whoa.” Jon grabbed the wheel and straightened them out.

  “Sorry,” she murmured.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

  His finger traced down her neck, and that familiar wanting that he called forth sprang to life. “You were going to tell me how I gave you the key to this—” she waved her hand “—situation.”

  “Tony and I were looking for a common thread that ran through each theft. Well, maybe each of these companies has Blake Catering running their on-site cafeteria. What would be easier than to use the cover of a catering company to gain access to the plant? No one would question you being there. And if they found you there after-hours or in the early-morning hours, you have a logical excuse for being in the building.”

  She glanced away from the road. “So what are you going to do?”

  “I want you to drive us back to the Black Boot and we’ll keep the room for another night. Then I’m going to call every one of these companies and see who has

  their cafeteria contracts.” “And if Blake Catering is the one serving them all?”

  “Let’s wait and see. One thing I’ve learned in this business is to go cautiously and never count your chickens before they hatch.”

  Lauren stared at the list of companies Jon had jotted down on a piece of paper. Blake Catering, or some subsidiary of it, had been the contractor at five of the eight facilities. Also, Blake Catering helped on occasion with NATO functions in Brussels.

  What caught her eye was the set of odd notations Jon had made by the last four companies—the ones that had the radar system?

  “Base, trigger, red, code.” She’d seen that list before, but where?

  “Jon, what is this by these companies?” She held up the piece of paper.

  He took the list from her. “What?”

  “The words that you’ve scribbled by the last four companies on this list.” She pointed it out to him.

  “Those are the parts of the radar system that each of those companies manufactured. Why?”

  She tapped her lips with her forefinger. “I’ve seen this list before.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Where?” Excited tension rolled off him in waves.

  It was right there at the edge of her memory, hovering. Where had she seen that odd list? It had been in an unusual—“I know. I saw that list on a piece of paper in the library at the Blake house.”

  Jon’s hands grasped her shoulders. “It was out in the open?”

  “No. It was the night of Donald’s and my engagement party.”

  Jon’s face clouded over like a spring storm in central Texas.

  “Do you want to hear this?”

  He nodded.

  “As I was saying, that night I was upset. It seems that a man turned up in my apartment claiming to be my dead husband.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “I didn’t feel much like socializing, so I escaped into the library for a few minutes. The light was on at the desk, and I thought someone might be in the room, but when I called out, no one answered. I sat behind the desk and…stewed.”

  A grin tugged at his lips.

  “Don’t look so smug. Anyway, when I got up to return to the party, I knocked a book off the desk. When I picked up the book, a piece of paper fell out. At first I thought it was just a scrap, but then I saw that list of parts.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I put the paper back in the book and went back to the party.”

  “Did anyone see you coming out of the library?”

  “I don’t think so.” She tried to recall if she’d seen a person in the hallway. “I didn’t run into anyone.”

  Jon stood and began to pace. “Well, I think our chickens have hatched.”

  “Meaning you think Blake Catering is involved in this mess.”