The exhibit going on now was advertised as Treasures from the Nile and touted as being one of the best collections of artifacts and archeological finds from Egypt.

Lynn had been to the Markham Convention Center often in the past. Whenever there was an exhibit of something she found interesting, she attended. During those frequent visits she'd gotten a good feel for the layout of the place, and that was vital for her plans this evening.

There was little traffic on the streets at midnight despite the fact that it was a Sat.u.r.day night. It was too late for club-goers to be just arriving at clubs and far too early for them to be heading home.

She parked on a residential street three blocks from the convention center. There she left the car and started off on foot, the navy backpack slung over her shoulder and her stocking cap in her pocket.

The street she walked down was quiet, the houses dark while the occupants slept. Occasionally she'd see the flicker of dim lights and could imagine a couple in the house all cuddled up on the sofa watching a late-night movie on television.

What would it be like to have that kind of life? To have somebody beside you who cared about you, somebody who was there when you needed him? Not a G.o.dfather but a lover. That's what she often thought about in the dark hours of night when loneliness pressed so close against her.

She certainly wasn't going to find a romantic relationship through her e-mail or by surfing the Net. She was always conscious that those friendly relationships were built on a premise of anonymity. A person she thought to be a twenty-seven-year-old businessman could just as easily be a lonely ninety-year-old man or a hormone-driven teenager.

A block from her goal, she left the residential streets behind and walked behind a small strip mall. She would approach the convention center from the back.

She was guessing there would be no guards at the back of the building. A solid ten-foot-high concrete wall provided all the security needed at the back of the building.

At the front of the building there were two spotlights that shone day and night on the front facade, making a frontal attack dangerous. At the back there were no lights at all, and without moonlight it was a thick darkness that enveloped the area around the concrete wall.

Lynn crouched at the foot of the wall and used her acute hearing to a.s.sess her surroundings. Insects filled the air with night songs of clicking and buzzing, and in the distance a dog barked.

Lynn hoped there weren't any guard dogs in the convention center. She rarely encountered guard dogs and didn't want to ever encounter them again while doing this work.

Dogs scared her. It was a totally irrational fear, bred from a single incident that had occurred when she'd been ten years old. A friend of Jonas's had come to the house carrying his pet poodle in his arms. He'd put the dog down, and the poodle had taken one look at Lynn and run to her and bitten her on the ankle.

It hadn't been a bad bite, had barely broken the skin, but from that moment on Lynn had been frightened of dogs.

She placed her ear against the concrete wall. She heard no sniffing, no snorting, nor did she smell anything that would indicate there were guard dogs on the other side.

She stood and shrugged off the backpack. She pulled the stocking cap out of her pocket and pulled it on, hiding her hair beneath. Gloves came next, the thin latex kind that didn't impede movement but kept fingerprints from showing up.

She retrieved a penlight and Swiss Army knife from the backpack but ignored the rope and grappling hook. She would use those only if necessary.

She was hoping that by using the tremendous power in her legs she could spring to the top of the concrete wall without the aid of the hook and rope. She hid her backpack beneath a nearby bush, then returned to the wall.

Listening once again to make certain she heard no sounds that would portend trouble, she squatted, gathered her strength and sprang straight up the wall. Her hands grabbed the top of the wall and she hung for a moment, gathering her strength to pull herself up and over. One...two...three, she thought, then hoisted herself to the top.

The wall itself was about eighteen inches wide and four feet or so from the back of the building. She jumped to the ground below, once again crouching as she listened for anything amiss.

Just ahead of her on the back of the building was a vent cover. It was small, but not so tiny that she couldn't get through it. She knew from studying the plans for the building that the vent would lead into the mechanical room, the room that held the furnace, air conditioner and the hot water tanks. This was her way in.

Turning on her penlight, she shone it toward where she thought the vent should be. Sure enough, there it was, connected to the building by six Phillips screws. She pulled the Swiss Army knife from her pocket and shut off the penlight. Using her fingers to guide her, she carefully unfastened the screws and loosened the vent cover.

When she was finished, she replaced the knife in her pocket along with the screws, then once again pulled out her penlight. Shining it into the vent she saw that it was exactly what she'd been looking for. The vent led into a dark room where she could hear the hum of the air conditioner at work.

She slid through the vent without any problems and landed soundlessly on the floor inside. With her penlight she checked out her surroundings.

She was exactly where she wanted to be. A door was just ahead and she was pleased to see that it locked from the inside. Apparently the janitorial staff used keys to get in and out of here. Besides the furnace and water heaters, the room also held a small desk where apparently the janitors took their breaks and stole an occasional puff on a cigarette. She could smell the lingering scent of old tobacco.

The Markham Convention Center was comprised of six different rooms besides the kitchen and various rest rooms. Each room had its own name. The owner of the Markham Convention Center had a thing for the golden years of Hollywood.

The largest room, the Bogart Room, was the one typically used for huge gatherings. Next to the Bogart Room was the Hepburn Room, another large area. Doors between these two rooms could be opened to create a s.p.a.ce big enough to hold any group that might want to use this facility.

The smaller rooms, the Monroe, the Davis, the Crawford and the Gable were the ones usually used for the occasional exhibits. The Treasures from the Nile exhibit was taking place in the Gable room.

Lynn had been in that room several times for various displays and exhibitions. She unlocked the door that led out of the mechanical room and slipped a flat piece of metal out of her pocket.

Placing it against the lock mechanism, she went out into the hallway and allowed the door to close behind her, knowing the piece of metal would keep it from locking again. The last thing she wanted was to be locked out of her escape route.

The hall was dark, and she turned to the left, where the Gable Room was located. Once again she listened for any sound of human presence. The air conditioner was noisy, making it difficult to hear much of anything else, but she didn't sense anyone around.

Still, she kept her penlight off, knowing that somewhere in the building there would be at least one security guard. She didn't want a single, faint beam from the tiny light to give away her presence.

She smelled the air surrounding her, the scent a combination of floor wax and disinfectant and the odors of people who had pa.s.sed through the hallway in the past twenty-four hours.

Using her hands to guide her, she made her way down the long, dark hallway and entered into a large lobby. Here, lights from the front entrance flickered in, giving the lobby a ghostly gray light. This is the place she'd be most vulnerable, as she crossed the lobby to get to the Gable Room.

Once again a burst of adrenaline rushed through her. Within minutes she would have the vase in hand and hopefully be back in her car and driving home. She could do this. This was the one thing she did well.

It was odd, but she felt as if somehow, by completing this job successfully, she would make up for both her indiscretion the night before in the club and not answering Jonas's phone calls to her that morning.

Focused on the opposite side of the lobby, she left the deep black of the hallway behind and started across.

"Freeze! FBI!" The deep male voice came from someplace on her left.

FBI?.

She didn't freeze. She whirled on her heels and ran back the way she had come. Bang. Bang. Bang. Her heart crashed frantically, like ba.s.s drums thundering in her chest.

She raced back down the hallway toward the mechanical room. A flurry of activity and shouting came from behind her. Sheer panic ripped through her.

"Get him!"

"Go...go!"

Voices yelled from every direction.

Run! Run! A voice screamed in her head. She moved faster than she'd ever moved in her life. She'd just ducked into the mechanical room when she heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

Guns. Bullets.

Fingers fumbling, she locked the door behind her and raced to the vent.

Her mind was numbed, in shock.

Get out.

Get out. The two words screamed in her head. Get out and get away. Panic constricted her lungs, making each breath painful.

She slithered through the vent and to the outside, vaguely aware of the sounds of bodies slamming against the locked door behind her in an effort to spring it open.

She hit the outside and jumped at the wall, nearly sobbing with relief as her fingers gripped the top. In two seconds she'd pulled herself up and over.

She hit the ground on the other side, grabbed her backpack and ran for her life.

Lungs sucking air, feet pounding the pavement, she raced down the block, at any moment expecting the sound of pursuit or the whiz of a bullet speeding toward her.

Her head was devoid of any thoughts other than for her survival. By the time she reached her car she was out of breath and trembling uncontrollably. She slid in behind the steering wheel, yanked off the stocking cap and pulled off the gloves.

It took her three tries before she finally managed to get her key into the ignition.

Not too fast, she told herself as she pulled away from the curb. The last thing she wanted to do was draw any attention to herself as she left the area.

The trembling stopped within minutes of driving, but once she realized she was relatively safe, the events replayed in her head in horrifying detail.

When she felt she'd put enough distance between herself and the convention center, she pulled over to the curb, needing to pull herself together before continuing the drive home.

She'd been shot at! A shiver raced up her spine as she thought of how close she'd come to not only being caught, but to being killed or maimed.

They'd been waiting for her. And it hadn't been the local cops, it had been the FBI. What was the FBI doing there?

They'd shot at her, for G.o.d's sake. Jonas had always warned her that if she were caught on one of these work details, she'd be arrested and taken to jail until the appropriate authorities could arrange for her release. But n.o.body could arrange for a release if she was dead.

She drew deep, steadying breaths for several minutes, trying to still her trembling, the jagged nerves that roared through her. Finally she pulled away from the curb and headed home.

She had to talk to Jonas. Something wasn't right. She had to tell Jonas that the FBI had tried to kill her. Why had they been there? Surely they would know about the work she and Jonas did for the government.

By the time she got back to her house and was in her room, she was in a state of frenzy. She stripped off her clothes and buried them in the back of her closet, then pulled on a robe and sat on the edge of her bed.

At any moment she expected a knock on the door, an arrest warrant to be served. They had been waiting for her. How had they known that she'd attempt a heist tonight? And why were the FBI involved?

Maybe they'd been there to protect the display. It could be a coincidence.

She grabbed her cell phone and punched in the number to connect her to Jonas. His phone went directly to his voice mail.

"Uncle Jonas. Call me as soon as possible." She disconnected and threw the phone aside. Nervous energy raged inside her, and she stalked over to the window and peered outside.

For the past couple of months the questions about the work she did had been growing bigger and bigger in her head. The answers Jonas had given her the other night when she'd asked some of those questions hadn't really satisfied her, but because she loved Jonas, because she trusted him, she hadn't pushed too hard.

She stared out the window where the clouds still obscured the stars and the moon. The only lights shining were the ones for security purposes on the property.

She leaned her forehead against the gla.s.s windowpane and wondered if Nick was working. She doubted it. He'd mentioned that he was on duty at noon today. By now he'd be home.

The fear that had chased her home was dissipating, leaving in its wake only confusion. How she wished she had somebody to talk to, somebody other than Jonas.

Somebody like Nick. But of course she couldn't talk to him about what had happened tonight. Even though he'd rescued her from her own stupidity at the club, she didn't know him well enough to tell him her secrets. She didn't trust him enough to tell him about her work, about herself.

She'd been lonely all her life, but at this moment she felt more isolated and alone than she'd ever felt in her entire life.

The phone rang and she whirled from the window and grabbed it from the bed. "I went after the vase tonight and the FBI was there waiting for me. They even shot at me. I could have been killed." The fear that had momentarily quieted now shouted from her. "Why was the FBI there? You always told me that all I had to worry about was local cops and security guards."

"Slow down, Lynn. Take a breath," Jonas said calmly.

His calm only fed the flames of her anxiety. "Take a breath? I was almost killed tonight. Didn't you hear what I told you? They shot at me."

"Calm down, Lynn." She drew a deep breath, at the same time sitting on the edge of her bed. "Now, first of all, I'm a.s.suming you aren't hurt or in jail."

"No, I managed to escape."

"Did anyone get a good look at you?"

She frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think so. As I was running, I heard somebody shout, *Get him,' which means they didn't realize I was female."

"Did you get the vase?"

The question irritated her. "I barely got out with my skin intact. No, I didn't get the vase. They were on to me the minute I stepped into the lobby. Since when is the FBI involved in all this?"

Jonas was silent for a long moment. "I don't know," he finally said thoughtfully. "There must have been a breakdown in communication somewhere. The Feds shouldn't have been involved in this at all."

"Yeah, well, they were. I want to talk to your contact. I want to know exactly what happened tonight that almost got me killed."

"Calm down, dear. We'll discuss all this further when I get home. I'll talk to my contact and see if I can get some answers. In the meantime, perhaps we should lay low until this is all resolved."

"Trust me, I don't intend to try another recovery until I know you have things under control at your end."

"I'll make some phone calls and see what's going on. You might want to think back and see what you might have missed when you went in."

Lynn frowned thoughtfully. Had she missed something? "When will you be home?"

"I won't be there until Monday or Tuesday. In the meantime, I understand you've been dating Nick."

It took a moment for her to follow the jump in topic. "So, Richard is doing double duty, not only working as your partner but also as your spy." She heard the edge in her voice and knew if she weren't so upset she'd never use that tone with her G.o.dfather. "For your information, I'm not dating Nick. We just went for a drive together this morning. It was no big deal."

"He's a good man, Lynn. The idea of seeing two people I care about getting together certainly doesn't upset me."

The night was filled with surprises. She never would have expected this kind of reaction from Jonas, who'd always cautioned her about dating and getting too close to any one person.

"Of course, I would expect you to be circ.u.mspect about sharing with Nick anything about our work or your particular skills," Jonas continued.

"Of course," she replied, and stretched out on the bed. Now that the fear had been spent and her anger vented, she was exhausted.

She didn't want to think about Nick, or her work, or anything else. At the moment she just wanted to drift into sleep and put this nightmarish night behind her.

"Lynn, honey. Don't worry. I'll get everything straightened out and we'll discuss it all when I get home. In the meantime you just relax and enjoy the next couple of days."

"All right," she agreed.

"And remember, baby, that I love you."