Hunting Eve

It took another fifteen to get into the house through the French doors.

He paused, waiting in the darkness for a motion detector to signal his presence. He had disabled two outside, but there could always be another.

No alarm.

He closed the door.

“Please, don’t move. I have a gun, but I’m not overly familiar with them, and I’m afraid that I’ll discharge it by mistake if I get nervous.”

Joe froze, his gaze searching the darkness. “I’m not moving … yet.” He could make out a tall, male silhouette framed against the drapes of the window. He hesitated, trying to decide if he should drop to the floor while drawing his own gun.

No, big mistake. He wasn’t here to blow anyone away. He had wanted to make contact and get information. “I take it you’re not Zander?”

“Good God, no.”

“I didn’t think so. Stang?”

“Venable told you about me, Detective Qui

Joe’s eyes narrowed on him. He couldn’t detect any hint of menace in Stang’s demeanor, but that could be deceptive. Stang was somewhere in his late thirties, a little over six feet, with brown hair and hazel eyes. He was dressed in a brown turtleneck and khakis and appeared to be fit without being particularly muscular.

He was also holding the Beretta revolver in his hand with an awkwardness that made his first statement about being unaccustomed to weapons ring true.

“You know who I am? You recognized me?”

“Yes, you’re Joe Qui

“Dossier? Then you know I’m a police detective and not likely to attack you. It might be wise if you put down that gun.”

He sighed. “It’s not doing me much good anyway, is it?” He put the gun down on the table. “You’re an ex-SEAL. You could probably take it away from me in a heartbeat. When I saw you on the verandah, I just thought that it might intimidate you for a time until I could see whether you were a danger to me.”

“And not to Zander?”

“Zander? That’s almost fu

“You saw me on the verandah? I take it I set off an alarm?”

“Yes, you disabled most of them, but Zander always makes sure there’s one more that you don’t suspect. That’s when I came into the library and looked to see who had come calling.” He frowned. “Should I offer you a drink or something?”

“I just broke into your employer’s home.”

“But you didn’t mean to burgle or hurt anyone. You probably only meant to talk to Zander and try to find Eve Duncan. Isn’t that right?” He went to the bar and poured himself a scotch. “Well, if you don’t want one, I believe I do. This isn’t my forte.”

“You appear to be very well informed.”

He shrugged. “For some reason Zander wanted me to know about Eve Duncan. I found it very unusual.” He lifted his glass to his lips. “I didn’t want to know. I didn’t like the idea she might be killed or hurt.”

“But Zander wasn’t upset at the prospect?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never been able to read Zander.” He took a drink. “Well, perhaps a little, but it’s mostly guesswork. I never wanted to delve past the surface. I always felt it could be … lethal.”

“Then why did you work for him?”

“I had my reasons. The pay is good, and Zander can be fascinating.”

“And where is Zander now?” Joe asked grimly. “I have a few questions I need to ask him.”

“I don’t know.”

“Shall I repeat the question?” Joe asked softly. “I intend to talk to Zander, Stang.”

“You see, that’s why I got the gun out of the desk. Yes, you’re police, but I think the way you feel about Eve Duncan probably overrides your respect for the law. From what I’ve learned about you, I should have kept the gun handy.” He grimaced. “You can shoot me or beat me up or waterboard me or whatever. I still wouldn’t be able to tell you where he is. He never talks to me about assignments.”

“And was this an ‘assignment’?”

He was silent. “Not exactly. But he still—” He met Joe’s eyes. “He went after James Doane, Detective Qui

“And where did he go hunting?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then you’d better get one,” Joe said softly. “Fast.”

“I told you, he doesn’t talk to me. Never about specifics. I like it that way.”

“I find your relationship with Zander both bizarre and a

He shrugged. “I’ve lived on the edge for long enough to accept it as a fact of life. I’ve told you the truth. You should be happy that Zander is going after Doane. Eve Duncan has a better chance that way. Zander is exceptional at what he does.”

“Why will Eve have a better chance? Is he going to try to get her away from Doane?”

Stang shook his head. “That’s not what he said. He was only concerned about Doane.”

Joe muttered a curse. “And what’s to prevent Doane from killing his hostage if he thinks he’s going to die anyway? That’s what happens in situations like this.”

“He said that Doane was his focus.”

“And screw the fact that Eve is his daughter?”

Stang’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You didn’t know? Venable said that Zander knew.”

“No, I didn’t know.” His brow wrinkled in a thoughtful frown. “But that might explain a few things. He’s been behaving rather…” He looked at Joe. “But you can’t count on that having any impact on him. Zander’s not like other people.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Joe asked between set teeth. “I don’t even know if Venable is right, and he is her father. I don’t know, and I don’t care. If I could use it to persuade him to tell me where I can find her, then I’d do it. Otherwise, he can fade back into the shadows where he’s been all her life.”

“He may not know where to find her,” Stang said quietly. “I told you, he went hunting.”

“But you think that he had an idea where to find Doane. She’s with Doane, dammit.”

Stang was silent.

“Answer me, Stang.”

“I’m thinking about it. Zander would look upon it as a betrayal and he doesn’t tolerate traitors. He always expects to be betrayed, but he’d still tend to set an example. I’ve lasted this long because he has a minimum degree of trust in me.”

“Which must make your life hell.”

“Sometimes.”

“Then why do you stay? Venable says you could get a job anywhere, that you’re some kind of financial genius.”

“I have reasons.”

“Your brother, Sean?”

Stang went rigid. “You know about Sean?”

“Venable has as big a report on you as he does Zander. On the plane here, I accessed every bit of information I could on both of you.”

“Very clever. Just what I’d do. I’d bet there wasn’t much on Zander.”

“No, even Venable couldn’t pull more than a few lines on him.” He paused. “But on you…”

“I’m very ordinary.” He smiled. “Just your typical genius next door. All brain but with no larger-than-life characteristics. I’ll leave that to you … and Zander.”

“You can’t compare me to Zander.”

“Yes, I can. I see a few similarities. You will, too, once you make his acquaintance. But only a few, he’s something of an enigma.”

“And so are you. For instance, you were born Colin Daklow, in South Africa of American parents, missionaries who ran a medical facility there. You had an older brother, Sean, with whom you were very close. He was a doctor at the hospital. You spent most of your time in New York. First at Harvard and then at Merrill Lynch. You were the golden boy there, but you still made frequent trips back to South Africa. You and your family were very close.” He paused. “But you weren’t there when the village and hospital were attacked by rebel insurgents who killed your parents and fatally injured your brother Sean. He died two hours after you saw him the morning you flew back there from New York.”