Alone
. The word reverberated in his mind with stunning force. It was not a word that he used very often, because it made him think of true chaos.
He had often told himself that the word did not really apply to him. He was a solitary man, not a lonely man. There was a difference. A man of his nature functioned best in solitude.
He heard a droning sound nearby. He realized that he had just been asked a question by the spouse of one of his newest clients. He played back the last few seconds of his mental tape and caught the gist of it.
The woman had asked him a question about networks overseas.
“Yes, there are huge computer networks established in other countries,” he said politely. “Users in the United States can access them just as easily as they do the networks here in our own country.” He paused to assume what he hoped was a visionary executive expression. “When it comes to computers, there are no borders. Protecting proprietary or government-sensitive information is only going to become increasingly difficult in the years ahead. Good security is the key.”
In other words, he added silently, your husband is going to need Stark Security Systems.
He was definitely getting the hang of this, Stark told himself as he joined another cluster of guests. Socializing was difficult, but it was not impossible.
A few minutes later, the tiny vibration from the pager attached to his belt jerked him out of his newfound complacency. He came to an abrupt halt in the middle of a discussion of encoding techniques.
“Excuse me,” he said to the manager of a software company. “I'm being paged. I'll be right back.”
She gave him a curious look. “Of course.”
Stark started through the crowd. He caught a glimpse of Dane on the other side of the room and briefly considered letting him know what had happened.
But there was no time.
Desdemona gave him a quizzical smile as he went past. “Is something wrong?” she asked in a low voice.
“I'm just going to check on something in my study.”
“Oh. I thought you might have been overwhelmed by your own success as a host. This thing turned into a real crush, didn't it?”
“Yes.” Stark brushed past her.
He stepped out of the living room into the atrium foyer. There was no one around. He took the stairs two at a time to the second level of the house.
When he reached the upper landing he turned and went down the hall to the closed door to his study. He was relieved to see that it was still locked. Perhaps the pager had been triggered by an alarm malfunction. He punched in the security code that opened the door.
The lights came on as he stepped over the threshold. The study was empty.
For a few seconds Stark stood in the doorway, searching for some sign of an intruder. Then he walked across the room to where the computer was bolted to the steel frame of the desk.
At first he could see nothing wrong. But when he angled the halogen lamp so that the strong light fell directly on the back panel of the computer case, he saw the scratch marks around the key lock.
Someone had tried to use a metal tool to get inside the computer case.
“Damn.”
Whoever it was must have realized that an alarm had been set off. He had fled, closing the door behind him, before Stark had made it to the top of the stairs.
Stark had passed no one on the stairs, which meant that the intruder might still be somewhere on the second floor.
He went out of the study and methodically checked his bedroom and the one Jason and Kyle used.
Empty. As were the baths and closets.
The door that opened onto the deck was closed. Stark opened it and stepped cautiously out into the balmy night. There was no one about.
The only explanation was that the intruder had waited in the shadows of the upper hall or inside a bedroom until Stark had gone into the study. He had then either slipped back down the stairs while Stark was occupied with investigating the scratches on the computer case or gone out onto the deck. From the deck, the intruder could have gone down the outside stairs and reentered the house through the kitchen door.
All of the door and window alarms were off for the evening because of the presence of so many people in the house.
Stark went back into the study and looked at the computer case again. Those shiny little scratches told their story all too clearly. Someone had tried to open the case and steal the hard disk that contained ARCANE.
Stark realized that he had a whole house full of suspects.
“Shit.”
He took another, closer look around the study.
He was just about to leave when he spotted the tip of a toothpick sticking out from under the desk.
He went down on one knee and discovered a half dozen more toothpicks scattered about on the carpet. The intruder had obviously dropped them when he had fled the scene in panic.
A deep cold filled Stark's gut as he rose to his feet. He looked at the handful of toothpicks he held.
The list of suspects had suddenly been shortened.
Two hours later Desdemona watched uneasily as Stark tossed a handful of toothpicks down onto his desk. The little sticks bounced and skittered on the glass surface.
“It had to be one of your people, Desdemona. No one else here tonight would have had a reason to carry a bunch of toothpicks around in his or her pocket.”
Desdemona stared at the toothpicks. “I don't understand.” She was baffled, not only by the toothpicks but by the change that had come over Stark.
The last of his guests had departed a few minutes earlier. As soon as the car's taillights had disappeared down the drive, he had asked her to follow him upstairs. The icy cold emanating from him sent a frisson of alarm along all her nerve endings.
She realized that there had been only one other occasion when she had glimpsed him in this dark and dangerous mood. That had been the night Tony had greeted them at the door of her apartment dressed in the Exotica Erotica regalia.
Something was terribly wrong. Desdemona wiped her damp palms on her apron. Her stomach clenched.
“What don't you understand?” Stark watched her with a grim patience that was frightening in its intensity.
“Let me get this straight.” She took a breath. “You think someone tried to steal your computer tonight?”
“Not the computer. That's not worth more than a couple thousand at most on the secondary market, and there would have been no way to get it out of the house undetected.”
“Then what—?”
“The thief was after the hard disk inside. That's where the valuable stuff is stored. Any idiot knows that.”
Desdemona swallowed. “You mean he was after your new project? The one you call ARCANE?”
“Yes, Desdemona. That's exactly what I mean. Whoever it was knew that there was no other way to get it except by stealing the entire hard disk. I keep this computer completely isolated. No modem is ever used with it. It's not linked to any network system. That means that no one can get into it through another computer.”
“But why would anyone want to steal your special project? You told me it was locked in code.”
“Given enough time, a very good hacker can break any code. Even one of mine.”
She frowned. “But what would he do with ARCANE once he'd figured out how to break the code?”
“Sell it.”
“To whom?”
“Any one of a number of foreign corporations or governments. It's called industrial espionage, Desdemona. Don't pretend you haven't heard of it.”
“Well, of course I've heard of it, but it isn't something I worry about on a day-to-day basis,” she retorted. “If someone really wants to steal my tapenade recipe, he's welcome to it.”
“You may not worry about this kind of espionage, but I do.”
She winced. “Yes, I suppose you do. You've made a career out of it, haven't you?”
“The theft of high-tech information is the new ball game. It's replaced a lot of the old-fashioned political espionage. Several of the old players are involved.”
“What do you mean?”
“A lot of the pros who once stole and resold national security secrets have undergone career adjustments.” Stark said evenly. “They're working in two new fields, arms dealing and the international market for technological secrets. Do you know what that means?”
“Uh, not exactly.”
“It means,” Stark said, “that the game of industrial espionage is a lot more dangerous than it once was because the players are not amateurs.”
“Stark, if your aim is to scare me, you've succeeded. Please tell me what this is all about.”
“Someone on your staff is playing the game.”
“I don't believe it.”
“You'd better believe it. The thief used you as a cover to get at my computer.”
“That's crazy,” Desdemona whispered. “All you've got are a few scratches on the computer case and a handful of toothpicks. Even if you're right about someone trying to steal your hard disk, why suspect a member of my staff?”
“Because someone on your staff had opportunity and motive.”
“Now hold on just one minute here. There were a whole bunch of people in this house tonight. I'll bet a lot of them know more about computers than any of my employees.”
“It had to be someone who knew the layout of this house,” Stark said. “Most of my guests tonight had never been here before. They couldn't have known where my study is located, let alone anything about my security precautions.”
“Wait a second, what about Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson? I know they were at the other party. And so were the Blaunts.”
“Ferguson and Blaunt are old-style corporate types. Neither of them knows enough about computers to even contemplate stealing a hard disk.”
“Well, what about your friend, Dane McCallum?”
“What about him? He's a marketing and finance man, not a technical man. Furthermore, I saw him downstairs at the same time that I got the page. He couldn't have been up here because he couldn't have been in two places at once.”
“How about that guy with the little beard?” Desdemona was grasping at straws, and she knew it.
“Jessick?”
“Whatever. He's been here before. You said something about him being a software genius.”
“I saw him downstairs at about the same time I saw McCallum. Got any other suspects you'd care to run by me before we take a close look at your staff?”
Desdemona frantically tried to think of another approach. “None of my people knows anything about computers. They're all theater people, for heavens' sake. Except Vernon Tate. And he's an ice sculptor and a waiter. He's no hacker.”
“You're overlooking someone.”
“Who?” she demanded furiously.
“Your stepbrother.”
Desdemona stilled. She gazed wide-eyed at Stark. “No,” she whispered. “Not Tony.”
“Why not Tony?”
“He wouldn't do anything like that,” Desdemona said. “He
wouldn't
.”
“He knows something about computers. You told me yourself he put your business on-line. I understand he's installed business software for Kirsten, too.”
“Yes, but that doesn't make him a hacker or a thief.”
“No?” Stark's eyes gleamed in the shadows above the halogen lamp. “He's got a history, doesn't he, Desdemona?”
Desdemona stopped breathing for a heartbeat. “What are you talking about?”
“I'm talking about the fact that he was once under suspicion for embezzlement.”
“How do you know about that?”
Stark shrugged. “I did a quick background check on him the day after he turned up in your apartment.”
“You did
what
?”
“You heard me.”
She was stunned. “But you had no right to do that.”
“I'm a security expert, remember?”
“A
computer
security expert. You're not a private investigator. All right, all right, it's true that Tony was in some trouble a few years ago, but it was all cleared up.”
“You mean no one was able to prove anything so they dropped the embezzlement charges.”
“No charges were ever filed,” she hissed. “And no one actually accused him of embezzlement.”
“I believe the phrase was ‘mishandling of funds.’”
“He was young.” Desdemona flung out a hand. “He took some chances on a plan to finance a new theatrical production, and it all fell apart. It was a case of bad judgment, not a criminal act.”
“That depends on your point of view,” Stark said bluntly. “In my business, the disappearance of several thousand dollars looks like embezzlement.”
“Well, it would to you, wouldn't it? You take a suspicious view of everyone and everything. You don't even trust your own fiancées. You make them sign prenuptial agreements, for heaven's sake.”
“Leave my ex-fiancées out of this. They've got nothing to do with it.”
“Let's be logical about this.” Desdemona ignored Stark's derisively raised brows. “Tell me, how would Tony know that there was anything of value stored in your computer?”