Always a Thief - Kay Hooper [42]
“We've discussed the matter.” Morgan smiled. “He wasn't happy, but when I pointed out that I'd be here whether I was getting paid or not, he gave in. I'm under orders to take long lunches and knock off early whenever possible, and I'm forbidden to darken the doors on Sunday. Why, do you need me for something tomorrow?”
“I'll let you know.”
“Okay,” she murmured, wondering if Wolfe felt uncomfortable discussing security business with her in the presence of Quinn. If so, it was certainly understandable.
Wolfe glanced at Quinn, then at Morgan, seemed about to say something, but finally shook his head in the gesture of a man who was acknowledging that a situation was out of his hands. “Have a nice evening,” he said, and left them to head for the hall of offices.
Gazing after the darker man, Quinn said meditatively, “Do you get the feeling Wolfe isn't entirely happy with any of us?”
“Yes, and I can't blame him. Anything happens to the Bannister collection and Lloyd's is on the hook for more millions than I even want to think about.”
Quinn took her arm and began guiding her toward the front doors. “True. Have I mentioned, by the way, that you look like a few million yourself today?”
It caught her off guard—damn the man for sounding unnervingly sincere without warning—but Morgan recovered quickly and was able to reply with commendable calm as they walked across the pavement outside the museum. “No, you haven't mentioned that.”
“Well, you certainly do. You look ravishing in jeans, mind you, but this is very elegant.” He guided her toward the low-slung black sports car waiting at the curb.
“Thank you.” Wondering if he did this kind of thing deliberately just to keep her off balance, Morgan remained silent while he installed her in the passenger side. She waited for him to join her and spoke only when the little car pulled away from the curb with a muted roar.
“Answer a question for me?”
He sent her a quick smile. “I'll have to hear it first.”
“Umm . . . Do you know the security layout of the museum—and the exhibit?” She had wondered about that only after Storm had made the observation that he “sensed”—or knew—the placement of all the security video cameras.
“Do you really think Jared would be so trusting?”
“That,” she commented thoughtfully, “is not an answer.”
Quinn chuckled softly. “Morgana, I get the distinct feeling I've somehow roused your suspicions.”
“That isn't an answer either. Look, Alex, we've agreed that the truth seems to be a slippery commodity between the two of us.” She half turned on the seat to study his profile. It was a good profile, which was inspiring—but not as regards clarity of thought. “So I'd appreciate it if you give me a direct answer whenever possible. If you'd rather not say, then tell me so—this habit you have of neatly evading various subjects is not calculated to persuade me to trust you.”
“Yeah, I was afraid of that.” Stopping the car at a traffic light, he glanced at her a bit more seriously. “I'll try not to do that so often.”
She noticed he didn't promise to stop doing it. “So . . . do you or don't you know the security setup of the exhibit?”
“I don't. I probably could have gotten it from Max—who does trust me, by the way—but I decided not to. I have a better chance of anticipating Nightshade if I have to study the museum and exhibit just the way he does. The only advantage I have is that I know there's a weakness in the defenses.”
“The trap? Is it Storm's security program?”
“You don't know?”
Morgan sighed. “I'm ashamed to admit it, but I haven't even asked.”
In an understanding tone, Quinn said, “The situation is a bit complicated.”
“Never mind. Do you know where the trap is?”
“Yes, I do. I told Wolfe in the lobby just before you joined us, and he confirmed my deductions.”
“No wonder he was frowning.”
“As I said, he isn't very happy with any of us. I did point out to him that the trap only looks like a hole in the defenses, expressly designed to lure Nightshade in and snare him before he can get anywhere near the collection.