Chapter Three.

The sign on the high stone wall read, "My Father's Mansion."

Zanita stopped her car before the heavy wooden gate. Looks like something out of the Middle Ages, she thought. The high wall and copious trees and bushes beyond obscured whatever form My Father's Mansion took.

So how did one gain entrance through these imposing walls?

Spotting a grilled intercom at a level with the driver's side window, she reached over, pressing the red button.

It was obvious by the security measures she had already witnessed that no one could enter Tyber's lair unless he wanted them to. Since he conducted all of his research behind these stone walls, she supposed it was a wise precaution, although she suspected that he was the type of man who guarded his privacy as carefully as his work.

The sudden loud squawk of the intercom made her jump in her seat.

"Blast and damnation!" a strange raspy voice boomed. "Who be ye? Friend or foe?"

Zanita stared dumbfounded at the box. Who on earth was that?

"Speak up, I say, or I'll blast ye where ye stand!"

Good God! Was there a weapon trained on her? Zanita tensed and peered warily at the stone structure in search of a gun port.

"Well?" the impatient voice demanded.

"It-it's Zanita-Zanita Masterson. Dr. Evans invited me to the party. I'm from the class?" This last part ended in a tone which conveyed her doubt not only of being let in, but also of her sanity in wanting such a thing.

"Come aboard then, lass."

The solid wooden doors swung slowly open.

Zanita sat in her car, hands clutching the steering wheel as she cautiously surveyed the scene opening up in front of her.

A cobblestone drive surrounded by heavy foliage lay directly before her. She had a momentary sense of deja vu.

For an instant, she knew, just knew, that once she went down that road, her life would be forever altered. It was an eerie sensation.

Do I really want to do this?

She shook herself, dispelling the strange feeling. What was she thinking? Of course she wanted to do this. She needed this interview.

The car rolled forward to follow the road. As soon as she cleared the gate, the heavy doors swung shut behind her with a dull, final thud.

Zanita looked up into the face of a dragon.

The giant topiary beast stood guard by the right side of the road. It seemed to watch her in silent scrutiny as her car inched forward. All ye who enter here abandon reality, she mused. This definitely promised to be an interesting experience.

The cobblestone drive twisted and turned through the woods. All she could think of was "follow the grayish brick road, follow the grayish brick road," while keeping a wary eye out for techno-munchkins sleeping under fallen leaves.

The woods opened up onto a glade followed by a labyrinth of mythological topiary creatures: gnomes, winged cats, dragons of all shapes and sizes, what appeared to be the Loch Ness monster, a three-headed beastie, and a giant wizard arrogantly presiding over all.

"This is incredible," she mumbled to herself.

Beyond the mazes were breathtaking gardens. From the distance of the road, she could see that each garden was separate in theme and mood. Many of the smaller gardens had beautiful fountains or little ponds.

Since it was fall, there weren't many plants still in bloom. She tried to imagine what the gardens would look like in full flower, knowing it must be a breathtaking vista. Perhaps sometime today, she would have the opportunity to walk through the hidden gardens, the little nooks and crannies that were so appealing.

She passed a large white gazebo with silken paisley curtains fluttering in the breeze.

When she rounded another bend in the road, a massive Victorian mansion came into view. Seven turrets jutted into the air.

In true Victorian opulence, the house was painted in multiple shades and colors. Gingerbread trim hung from every available edge. Several different styles of wood trimming and carvings adorned the intricate woodwork. Hand-carved flowers, ropes, and bows decorated doorways. Window boxes were filled with fresh pastel flowers. The wrap-around porch was designed with intricate fretwork banisters. Several stained-glass windows reflected the afternoon sun.

Zanita didn't know whether to label it a dream or a nightmare.

She parked her car in the circular driveway in front of the house. When she had closed the car door, she leaned back against it to gaze up at the facade of the painted lady in front of her. The house was a fabulous example of Victorian architecture, brilliantly restored and lovingly maintained. She decided it was definitely a dream and was now very eager to see the interior.

Climbing the few steps up to the wide veranda, skirting the hanging swing, she approached the wooden double front doors, wondering where on earth Tyber had found these beautiful stained-glass panels. She had no doubt that they were by Tiffany. The scenes depicted were celestial in nature, showing stars, comets, heavenly bodies, a few angels, and Cupids cavorting amongst the stars.

Before she could ring the bell, the door swung open to a smiling Tyber Evans. He was barefoot, in faded jeans and an old white tee shirt. His long gold-streaked hair swung free around his shoulders.

So that's what torture looks like.

As usual, his sexy appearence was licensed to kill.

"Hi-glad you could make it." He held the door open for her, gesturing to her to enter.

"You know, Tyber, you really should make an effort to break out of your introverted mold," Zanita quipped as she walked past him.

He rubbed his ear. "I take it you don't appreciate the nuances in my subtle foray into design?"

"Subtle? Tyber, next to you, an elephant wearing a pink pinstriped suit dancing on two legs down Wall Street is subtle. I love it."

He gave her an ear-to-ear grin. "Somehow I knew you would, Curls. Come on, let me give you a tour of the house." He casually draped his arm around her shoulders as he led her out of the foyer into the living room. She was soon to find out that it was one of the few rooms in the house that looked normal.

The room was a tastefully recreated late-1800s drawing room decorated with dark maroon carpets, heavy emerald-green upholstered chairs sporting antimacassars, tables in dark woods, a large pouf, lots of hanging fringe, and elaborate drapery composed of yards and yards of rich jacquard material. On the highly polished wooden mantel of a large fireplace was set an inlaid cabinet containing a collection of antique music boxes.

It was altogether lovely and she told him so.

"Did you design and decorate the entire house, Tyber?"

"Most of it. I love Victorian architecture-the flights of fancy, the imagination run amuck appeals to me. When I found this house several years ago, I was intrigued. My real estate agent tried to talk me out of it. You should've seen it then- it was a real mess, but I knew the house was structurally sound. When I saw that most of the original fixtures and detailing were still intact, I immediately put in an offer. The main house was restored, then I let my imagination loose on the twenty-five acres of grounds. After that, I decided to let my own flight of fancy take over. I added several wings decorated in what I call Neo-Victorian Evans." He smiled at her engagingly. "It was a lot of fun."

Tyber's own version of Victorian turned out to be peculiarly fascinating. Rooms led into rooms, corridors took strange twists and turns, and stairways led into solid ceilings or around corners before going down or up.

Every room they passed in the wings had a different theme; there was a cave room with rock walls, a medieval room with a bed hanging from the ceiling on chains, an observation deck with a telescope on one part of the roof, a room done all in black except for the ceiling, which had tiny phosphorescent stars painted on it, and other rooms all unique in theme.

The feature he seemed most proud of was a doorway on the third floor that led to nowhere; it opened up to the outside with no supporting structures around it, like a window in space.

Zanita stared out the open door, careful not to lean over too far. "I don't get it."

"You'd have to be a physicist to understand-it has to do with the Uncertainty Principle."

She looked at him strangely. "Uh-huh."

There was an enormous English conservatory to the rear of the house, nicely decorated in white wicker. Zanita sank down into a cushioned chair, admiring the flowering plants around her.

"So, where do you work, in your laboratory in the dungeon?" she joked. Tyber nodded quite seriously. "You're not joking, are you?"

Tyber raised his eyebrows, shaking his head slowly back and forth.

"Whyever would you work in a musty old cellar?"

"I'm a traditionalist. All us mad scientists have a certain reputation to maintain." She laughed outright. The corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile, then he held his hand out to her. "I want to introduce you to a few... friends. Then, if you like, we can go sit out by the pool."

She placed her hand in his large palm; his skin was warm and dry, the strong fingers enclosing her hand, gentle.

"We are going to venture into forbidden territory, Ms. Masterson," he whispered. "We are about to enter into the outer limits known as Blooey's kitchen." He led her down several corridors.

"Do you ever get lost here?"

"No, but others have. Until I can get you a map, don't go anywhere without either me or Blooey leading you. I once lost a colleague for two whole days in the south wing. He hasn't visited us since." He grinned wickedly.

"You didn't by any chance engineer this occurrence, did you?"

"I'm surprised at you, Ms. Masterson. Just how unchivalrous do you think I am?" He mocked her with the term, recalling the moment she had awakened in his arms.

She flushed faintly. "As a guest in your home, I won't answer that question."

He pushed a swinging wooden door open with his bare foot, pulling her behind him into a very large, sunny kitchen.

An island with a malachite surface stood in the center of the cooking area. Copper pots dangled from rack above the island. The cabinets were rich cherry wood. All the appliances seemed to be restaurant-style equipment. Even the chrome gas stove, although designed to look like a turn of the century appliance, was completely modern. Several kinds of herbs grew along the base of the windows. The kitchen table was nestled in an alcove of floor-to-ceiling windows.

In the center of the floor stood a chubby little man and a very fat cat.

The man wore a red-and-white horizontally striped shirt, baggy brown pants, and old, scuffed hiking boots. Around his head was a red kerchief, which was tied in a knot behind his left ear-the ear that held a large gold hoop. He was whipping a batter to a frenzy in a stainless steel bowl.

The cat, an enormous orange tabby, watched the man cooking with a greedy gleam in his golden eye. He was a tough old customer, that cat. Zanita noted with some amusement that a piece of his right ear was chewed off. A black eyepatch covered his left eye. He looked like a rogue.

"Blooey!" Tyber's voice boomed in the kitchen, making Zanita jump. He leaned down to explain in a lower voice, "Blooey won't respond to me unless I speak to him in a certain-ah, tone."

The odd man spun around, squaring his shoulders. "Aye, Captain?"

Zanita immediately recognized the voice as the one she had heard on the intercom. Captain? He called Tyber Captain. Had Tyber been in the military? If so, this was a piece of information that could be useful in an interview. So far as she knew, no one had ever mentioned his being in the service. And just what were his government ties?

"I want to introduce you to someone. Zanita Masterson, this is Arthur Bloomberg, known to his friends as Blooey."

"Hi. Nice to meet you." Zanita put her hand out.

Blooey squinted, examining her through one eye. "She be yer lady, what ye mentioned, Captain?"

Tyber seemed distinctly uncomfortable. "Ah... she is a lady, Blooey."

Blooey nodded, then clasped her hand, giving her a quick, rough shake. "Fair enough, I say. Welcome aboard, Lady Masterson."

Zanita wasn't quite sure how to respond to the strange little man. "Um-thanks."

A loud, indignant meow came from the floor.

"I'm getting to you; keep your whiskers on."

Tyber was talking to his cat. And the cat seemed to understand; he sat back on his haunches, peering out of his one eye at Zanita expectantly.

"And this is Hambone." The cat raised a chubby paw.

Zanita knelt down to shake his paw. "Hi, Hambone, pleased to meet you." She swore the cat grinned at her.

Tyber clasped her shoulders, bringing her to her feet. "If you need us, we'll be out by the pool."

"Aye, aye, Captain. Supper will be at six bells."

As soon as they cleared the doorway, Zanita asked him as casually as she could, "When were you in the military?"

He looked puzzled. "The military?"

So, he was hiding something! "Yes, the military. Don't deny it, Tyber, it's too late. That man in there called you Captain."

A laugh line curved the left side of his mouth. "Oh, yes, I'd forgotten all about my illustrious military career."

She fumbled around in her bag, pulling out a bent reporter's notebook and a pencil. "Now this is interesting. Tell me all about it."

He crossed his arms and looked down at her. "Well, let me see. In those days, there was a lot of strife between... you know."

Zanita nodded eagerly. "The cold war. Go on." She scribbled in her book.

"I had commandeered my own ship, of course."

"Of course," she agreed, not looking up and therefore missing the grin that broke across his face.

"I sank and pillaged twenty ships-"

"Pillaged?" She looked up at him aghast. "The government condoned that sort of thing?"

"I had a letter of marque," he answered her seriously.

"A letter of-Tyber, what are you talking about?"

He gave her an innocent look. "What are you writing?"