Both seemed to have forgotten that Jade was still inside her. Without hesitation, he pulled himself out, quickly stood, and ran for his car. Travers immediately dug herself from the mud and followed, yanking together the ripped remains of her clothing. The car was moving when she got there and she had barely jumped in before Jade sped away.

Once they were on the freeway, he looked over at her mudtangled hair, her tattered garments, her smeared face, and started laughing. She tried not to smile but couldn't resist, and then they were both laughing, almost uncontrollably. Travers reached over and painted a line of mud on Jade's cheek with her finger. Her smile faded, her lips pursing ever so slightly, just enough to betray her thoughts.

Jade took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at her. "Jennifer, huh?" he said gently.

She nodded.

He glanced at the clock and the softness faded from his face. He took 85 to 17 and exited in San Jose, racing over curbs and through red lights.

He berated himself for not thinking of the fund-raiser earlier. Closing his eyes, he remembered the drum roll opening the cla.s.sical piece he'd heard when he'd interviewed Thomas in the living room. Darby's story about the fund-raiser dinners. Charity. Our road back to sanity.

The shower had ended by the time the BMW squealed to a halt at the Atlasias' home. The FBI agents down the block were out of their cars before they recognized Jade.

The door swung open to reveal Darby's startled face. She looked at Jade's clothes and the mud shot through his hair, and then at Travers's ripped shirt.

"Oh. No thank you. We didn't order a stripper," she said, and feigned shutting the door.

"Are you going to the symphony dinner tomorrow night?" Jade asked.

"Of course we are."

Jade put his hand on the door and pushed it open. "Then we have to talk." He brushed past Darby and into the house. Travers waited outside, a procedure they had discussed.

"Well, Jade Marlow, before you floor me again with your plans and calculations, there's something you need to see." Darby pointed to the kitchen.

On the kitchen table was a second envelope. Same block print. Jade reached inside and pulled out a lipstick container.

"We got the mail about a half hour ago," Darby said from the doorway. "I just left a message on your machine."

"Speak no evil," Jade said softly.

Darby raised her hand and let it clap to her thigh. "What's next?" she said, her voice cracking in a mock laugh.

Jade looked up at her, holding her eyes for a moment. "Probably an earring," he said.

"How . . ." Her words trailed off into a silent sob before she regained her composure and continued in a horrified whisper. "How can you stand this? Day in, day out." Her voice rose angrily. "How can you deal with it all day, every day? When you don't even have to?"

"Because that's what I do, all right?" Jade replied sharply. His voice rang around the room. He looked down at the floor sadly, tracing the pattern of the tiles. "That's what I am," he said softly.

When he raised his eyes to meet Darby's, he was surprised by how suddenly pale she was. She staggered to the side as if she were about to faint, leaning on the table for support. Pulling herself erect, she squared her shoulders, her eyes lit with their familiar determination.

"Darby. Are you all right?" Jade asked, genuine concern in his voice.

She nodded, then turned and left the room.

Jade started to follow her, but stopped when he got to the doorway. Although time was of the essence, he could give her a few minutes. He sat down and turned his eyes to the clock on the microwave. Five minutes. He could give her five minutes.

She was standing at the edge of the square lawn with her back to the house. She appeared to be gazing at the neat rows of flowers and plants that const.i.tuted her garden. Jade approached her cautiously and halted next to, but slightly behind, her.

"I'm sorry," she said, still not turning to look at him. Then she laughed her sad laugh, and Jade realized how accustomed to it he had grown. He wondered how often she had laughed like that before she'd met him.

"It feels like I'm doing that all the time now," she said. "Apologizing. More than I ever have." She finally turned to look at Jade. "Believe it or not, I usually have a difficult time with it."

"I can empathize," Jade said.

"I can imagine." She laughed and he joined her.

The garden was small, but extremely well cultivated. Two rosebushes flanked the smaller plants like monoliths, one on each side of the bed of rich soil. Jade slowly became aware of a loud buzzing sound.

"What's that noise?" he asked.

Darby pointed to a tube hanging from the larger of the two rosebushes. About the size of a tennis-ball can, the tube appeared to have an inverted funnel at its base. Through the clear plastic, Jade noticed at least a dozen bees flying nearly in place, trapped inside the device. The buzz of their wings vibrated inside the tube, giving off an eerie hum.

"Thomas is allergic to bees, and this keeps them out of the backyard. There's a nectar scent that attracts them," Darby said. "They fly up through the funnel at the bottom and can't figure out how to fly down out of it."

They watched the bees fight against the plastic for a few moments, their buzzing amplified by the container. Though it was not easy for him, Jade raised his hand and placed it on Darby's shoulder. She swayed a bit toward him, but didn't turn her head.

"I will protect you," he said. The words came with such conviction that his uneasiness departed. "On my life, I will protect you."

His hand rose with her shoulder as she breathed deeply. Darby squeezed his hand briefly before lifting it off. "Well, I've had my wounded moment," she said. "Let the planning commence."

She walked back to the house without waiting to see if Jade was following. She was not wearing shoes, and Jade found something distressing and wonderful about watching her bare feet on the gra.s.s.

Placing one shoe delicately between two rows of pansies, Jade moved closer to the rosebush and looked down into the bee trap. A piece of yellow plastic plugged the tube around the funnel, and Jade noticed the dead bees that it ordinarily hid from view, their sh.e.l.l-like bodies forming a grotesque bottom layer. As he watched, a b.u.mblebee that had been struggling against the clear plastic fell to the pile, exhausted, fanning its wings in ineffective short bursts. Jade watched until the wings no longer blurred, then headed back toward the house.

52.

S I N G S P I E L ' S Restaurant was in a stylish converted brewery located across the street and up the block from the symphony hall on Van Ness. The entrance was narrow, like a hallway, but the building widened into a dining area with about thirty tables in the back, positioned around a large vat left over from the brewery.

An elegant bar where customers bought drinks to take to the tables in the back ran along the corridor of the restaurant. Mirrors covered the wall behind the bottles, reflecting the s.p.a.ce's bra.s.s-and-marble design. The bar ended just where the bottleneck of the entrance opened up to the table area. A stack of kegs marked the start of the restaurant proper, lining the edge of the bar, just beside the wooden Dutch door of the coat-check closet.

It was to be a very early dinner, since it was to be followed by a concert at the symphony hall. The Atlasias were to arrive at 5:05.

Jade sat inconspicuously at a table largely blocked from view by the brewing vat. He, however, had excellent visibility of the entire seating area, and he could also lean slightly and look straight down the length of the bar.

Jade felt more keyed up than usual, the increased tension brought on by growing pressure for him to end the terror that had begun to spread through the city. If he couldn't lure Allander in tonight, he wasn't sure he ever could. It was doubtful that another opportunity this promising would come along. Jade relaxed in his chair and tried to calm himself. There was a high probability that Allander would show up. After all, the fund-raising dinner was something of a family tradition.

Jade had pulled back all the agents a.s.signed to the Atlasias so that Allander wouldn't be scared off. The couple would be dropped off by a cab (with an agent disguised as the cabdriver) right at the front door. Jade and Travers would cover the restaurant. He was using only one other agent, the woman he had disguised as the ticket vendor at the movie theater. She would be working the coat check tonight, which placed her in position between the table area and the front door. Jade had instructed her not to involve herself at all unless he signaled. Despite all efforts, undercover agents tended to stand out at high-society affairs, and Jade just didn't want to run the risk of frightening Allander away. He barely trusted Travers to play her part.

Jade expected Allander to hit early, intent on killing Thomas and either killing or kidnapping Darby. Maybe he'd let Darby go for now so he could catch her in a more intimate setting later.

Since Allander wouldn't recognize Travers, Jade put her at the bar to keep an eye on the front of the restaurant. Wearing a simple black dress, sitting at the bar with her legs crossed, and sipping a gla.s.s of Burgundy, she blended in perfectly with society's elite. She glanced up from her position between two girls who looked like debutantes and winked at Jade. He nodded seriously and leaned back out of view.

Travers had agreed to back him only after learning that the Atlasias were already planning to attend the event. She tried briefly to talk Jade into ordering them not to come, but she realized early that her protests were falling on deaf ears-Jade's and the Atlasias'. They were three of the most determined people she'd ever met.

Thomas and Darby were intent on not letting their son dictate how they lived their lives, and they were willing to use themselves to catch him; they had already proved that. They trusted Jade more than Travers had realized. There seemed to be an element of faith between them, something unspoken yet understood.

"I want it to end," Darby had said to both Jade and Travers earlier in her kitchen. She had looked up at Jade, keeping her eyes steady on his. "Just make it end."

The Atlasias' Singspiel entrance was beautifully natural. They walked in and ordered a drink at the bar, standing only about four feet from Travers, never making eye contact.

Thomas looked very sharp in his tuxedo, complementing the sweeping black sequined dress that Darby wore. She carried a small clutch purse, having denied Jade's request that she put a gun in it for the evening.

Jade smiled to himself as he remembered something Darby had told him. "We'll do fine," she had said. "We're good actors. We've had lots of practice."

She proved that now as they walked to their table, pretending not to notice the hushed silence that fell around them, the hands covering whispers, the curious glances that lingered a beat too long. They smiled and nodded at the people they knew as they threaded their way gracefully through the tables to their own.

They were seated in front of the brewing vat, to Jade's right. He leaned out from behind the vat and scanned the restaurant, focusing on the Atlasias' table from time to time. Once in a while, he caught Travers's eye at the bar and she shrugged, raising her shoulders and eyebrows just slightly. The agent working the coat check was doing well-she wasn't so much as looking at Jade and Travers. Jade didn't let down his guard, but he started to relax.

Travers gave him another half shrug and he frowned, bringing his hands up in frustration. What do you want me to do? he thought.

The first part of dinner was over and Jade couldn't smell any danger in the air. At this point, another fruitless evening out might be devastating for the Atlasias. Glancing over, he checked on Darby and Thomas.

Darby laughed boisterously, raising one hand to cover her mouth. An elegant pearl bracelet hung from her wrist, swaying with the force of her laughter. She sat at a table full of grinning men who looked at her with expressions of delight and amazement.

It had taken some doing, but she had won over the table. She was used to the routine. It started with awkward glances and pointed questions: Well, how are you, Darby? How are you holding up? But she had done it again. She had won another small social victory for herself and her husband. A moment of normalcy to hold in their memories and cherish.

She smiled and continued with her story. "And so I didn't know that Thomas had just washed the floor, so here I come, walking in with bare feet and-" She burst into fresh peals of laughter and some of the men began to chuckle prematurely, antic.i.p.ating the rest of the story.

"-two cartons of eggs (I mean, what are the odds of all the things I could be carrying in-not one, but two cartons of eggs?), and Thomas was at the sink peeling carrots and he said he just heard this enormous THUMP!"

Darby banged the table with a fist to punctuate the thump and all the water gla.s.ses jumped. One fell over into the lap of a man with a carefully manicured mustache and Darby burst into laughter all over again.

"Oh my G.o.d, I'm sorry. I'm a nightmare. See what a nightmare I am?" Her voice was high as she strained to speak through her laughter. "And during my eggs story."

The mustached man a.s.sured her that he was fine and that the water would soon dry.

"But my feet went out, and I swear to G.o.d I hit the floor flat on my back. I mean, every part of my back hit the ground at the same time. And the eggs, the eggs . . ." She covered her mouth, her shoulders heaving again with laughter. "I mean, it was like a cartoon. Up in the air." She imitated her frantic attempt to locate the eggs above her, and then the exaggerated expression of shock that crossed her face once she did. "All over me. My face, my hair, my neck. All over."

Everyone at the table laughed.

"And so Thomas turns around to me slowly and says, 'Darby, honey, if you need more attention from me, all you have to do is ask.' " She laughed and pounded the table again. The men all grabbed their water gla.s.ses.

Thomas leaned over, draping his arm across her shoulder. "Dear, why don't we see if the Lawrences have arrived yet? We told them we'd catch up."

"Sure, sure." Darby pushed back from the table and laid her napkin gracefully across her place setting. "Gentlemen, it was a pleasure horrifying you with stories of my inept.i.tude." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Now you know the truth," she added to smiles all around.

She followed Thomas through the cl.u.s.ters of tables, the self-a.s.sured patrons of the arts, the lipsticked smiles, the jeweled fingers, until they were alone by the bar. Glancing over Thomas's shoulder, she caught Jade's eye.

"How are you, love?" Thomas asked.

She rolled her eyes. "What a ch.o.r.e. I swear to G.o.d these people all have large sticks up their a.s.ses. I feel like I'm talking to a bunch of corpses." She imitated a wide-eyed stare with an excessive head nod. "'And how are you, Darby? You look great-I mean fantastic. And Thomas is all right? Good, good. And has your son embalmed anyone this week? Oh. Good, good.' " She made a quick gagging gesture, bringing one finger to her open mouth.

Thomas smiled at her, shaking his head. "I recognize that the strain of being charming must wear you down considerably," he said. "But, you know, you do look quite lovely."

"Thank you, honey. I don't mean to be ungrateful, it just seems like there are no real people here. You know what I mean?" Her shoulders dropped. "Not many real people anywhere for us anymore."

She ran her open hands over the lapels of his tuxedo. "And you look very handsome. Are you here with anybody?" Rising to her tiptoes, she kissed him gently on the lips.

53.

J A D E watched the Atlasias from across the restaurant. They had agreed that they should move to the bar area if nothing happened during the first half of dinner. They'd be more visible there, more vulnerable.

Now that they were in position, Jade was having second thoughts. There was so much activity at the bar that there was no way he could keep an eye on everything. He drummed his fingers underneath the table and grimaced. It suddenly felt wrong again, like it had in the theater. It felt risky.

He moved to a table that was closer to the bar, signaling Travers to head outside and watch the street. He was convinced that everything was safe among the tables behind him, so he wanted to shift their coverage to the front of the restaurant and outside. Travers exited the bar casually, turning a few heads on her way.

With Travers outside, it was up to him to cover the entire restaurant. The other agent, who was casually watching the crowd above the bottom half of the Dutch door, was not to leave her post. They were daring Allander to strike. The Atlasias were dangling like bait on a hook.

After Travers left, Jade felt a sinking in his stomach. The early taste of panic flooded his mouth. As he watched the smiling faces moving in all directions, he felt his control of the situation slowly slipping away.

His sweat seemed to come in waves, as if his hammering heartbeat was pushing it through his pores. He thought of Darby outside the movie theater, her smeared makeup and tired eyes, trying to face the crowd of jostling cops and reporters. We're more than this.

One of the waiters b.u.mped into Thomas, and Jade almost left his seat in a sprint, but the fellow righted his tray, apologized, and moved on.

Once they got to the bar, Darby and Thomas knew not to return to their seats. The front door opened and swung closed slowly, and Darby felt a breeze blow across her shoulders. "Honey, I'm a little chilly. Would you mind getting my coat?"

Jade had told them not to separate, but force of habit made them forget their instructions. A crowd of women headed for the bar to refresh their gla.s.ses of wine, blocking Darby and Thomas from view. Jade sat up straight in his chair to keep his eye on them. He felt a tingling down his spine as he waited for his view to clear. When the women parted, he saw only Darby.

Jade stood up, knocking his chair over clumsily and scanning the restaurant for Thomas. Darby looked over at him, concern written in the furrows of her brow. With a tilt of her head, she indicated where Thomas was. Jade turned and saw Thomas heading for the coat closet.

The restaurant flooded in on Jade, and he pivoted to try to hold the scene together, to keep control of the surroundings. The Atlasias were split apart, people hustled at the bar, the waiters and bartenders clamored around noisily. The glow of cigarettes flicked through the air, and for a moment Jade saw only the cigarettes, tracing orange lines through the smoky air. The necklace around his neck felt like an albatross.

For the first time, Jade felt doubt lower, like a cloud, over his intentions. He couldn't do it. He couldn't risk the Atlasias like this, even to catch Allander. He knew something was wrong-in his gut, in his bones, in the raised hair on his arms he felt it. Then he realized. The top and bottom of the coat-closet door were both shut.

As Thomas placed his hand on the doork.n.o.b, Jade sprang forward shouting, "BACK OFF. IT'S NO GOOD." He wanted the Atlasias side by side, and he wanted himself in front of them. He ran toward them.

All the people in the restaurant turned to stare at Jade. He could have sworn the crowd took in a huge collective gasp of air. Then, they were still.

Thomas froze. He noticed a slight movement at his feet. Blood seeped slowly out from beneath the door, the edge of a growing pool. It rippled slightly, and as it reached his shoe, Thomas saw the reflection of the ceiling fan in its gla.s.sy surface. He released the doork.n.o.b, its click echoing through the silent restaurant.

He took a cautious step back and then the door swung open, crashing against the wall. A silver arc slashed through the air and a neat slit appeared across Thomas's tuxedo jacket and shirt. He stumbled back, a vacant look in his eyes, his hands clutching his chest. Blood oozed from beneath his fingers as he fell to his knees.

And then Allander was on him, an arm around his neck, a hand gripping the back of his head. Thomas felt the coldness of a blade at his throat, pushing the skin as far as it could go without breaking. He knew he was going to die.

How did I beget such a cursed thing? he thought.