Always a Thief Part 12

It caught her off guard-d.a.m.n 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." 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 ravis.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.senger 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 antic.i.p.ating Nightshade if I have to study the museum and exhibit just the way he does. The only advantage I have is that I know know there's a weakness in the defenses." 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 is a bit complicated." 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 looks like a hole in the defenses, expressly designed to lure Nightshade in and snare him before he can get anywhere near the collection." like a hole in the defenses, expressly designed to lure Nightshade in and snare him before he can get anywhere near the collection."

"And was he mollified by this reminder?"

Quinn smiled. "No. He seemed to feel that Nightshade might be suspicious enough to avoid the trap and find his own way in."

"Why would he be suspicious?"

"Because of me, I'm afraid." He sighed. "Morgana, thieves don't normally follow one another in the dead of night. But I followed him the night he was casing the museum, the night he shot me. He has to wonder about that. He knows he didn't kill me, because no unexplained shootings have been reported in the city, so he knows I may still be a potential problem."

"But he doesn't know who you are," Morgan said slowly.

"I'm an unanswered question all the way around-and a man like Nightshade hates unanswered questions."

She frowned a little as she studied his face. "You know, every time you talk about Nightshade, I get the feeling there's more to this. You say you don't know much about him . . . but I think you do."

"Morgana, you are full of questions today."

"Is that a warning?"

"It's an observation."

It may have been only that, but Morgan decided to drop the subject anyway. Quinn had already been more forthcoming than she had expected, and she preferred to quit while she was ahead. In any case, they arrived at the restaurant just then, and a number of speculations filled her mind.

She didn't comment until he had parked the car and come around to open her door. "So Tony's is the best restaurant this side of Naples, huh?"

"I think so," Quinn replied innocently as he closed her car door and took her arm.

"And I suppose the fact that it tends to be a kind of hangout for art collectors and dealers as well as museum people is a coincidence?"

He sent her a glance, amus.e.m.e.nt in his green eyes. "No, is it? Fancy that."

"You can be maddening, you know that?"

"Watch your step, Morgana," he murmured, probably referring to the uneven flagstone steps leading up to the restaurant's front door.

Though it was just after seven in the evening, the place was already three-quarters full; many of the museums in the area closed at six, and this was, as Morgan had said, a favorite place to unwind as well as dine. The food was not only excellent, it was also served generously and priced reasonably, and the casual but efficient waitresses knew your name by the third visit.

Or, in Quinn's case, the second.

"I ate lunch here Sat.u.r.day," he told Morgan, after the friendly waitress had conducted them to a window booth and asked "Mr. Brandon" if he wanted coffee as usual.

Morgan-who was also known to the waitress and who had ordered coffee as well-accepted that somewhat ruefully with a nod and then glanced around casually, curious to see if she could spot whoever it was that Quinn wanted to keep an eye on.

The one glance told her it would be impossible. There were more than a dozen people scattered about the room who were in some way involved in the art world either as collectors, patrons, or employees of the various museums, galleries, and shops in the area. Even Leo Ca.s.sady, their host for the party the other night, and Ken Dugan, head curator of the museum housing the Mysteries Past Mysteries Past exhibit, were present, both with attractive female companions. exhibit, were present, both with attractive female companions.

"Give up?" Quinn murmured.

Morgan unfolded her napkin and placed it over her lap, making a production out of it. "I don't know what you're talking about," she told him politely.

"You mean you weren't trying to guess who it is I'm keeping an eye on?" He smiled wickedly. "Nice try, sweet, but you should never try to play poker with a cardsharp."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

She scowled at him. "Thanks for yet another warning. Obviously, you could look as innocent as a lamb with both sleeves full of aces." warning. Obviously, you could look as innocent as a lamb with both sleeves full of aces."

Leaning back to allow the waitress to place his coffee before him, Quinn said, "I didn't know lambs had sleeves."

"You know what I mean. Your Your sleeves full of aces." Morgan reached for the sugar and poured a liberal amount into her coffee, then added a generous measure of cream. sleeves full of aces." Morgan reached for the sugar and poured a liberal amount into her coffee, then added a generous measure of cream.

Quinn watched her with a slightly pained expression on his handsome face. "American coffee is filled with flavor; why do you want to turn it into dessert?"

Since he'd stayed at her apartment, Morgan knew how he took his coffee. "Look, just because you macho types think drinking something incredibly bitter is a gourmet experience doesn't make it so."

"Is the coffee bitter?" the waitress asked anxiously. "I'm so sorry."

Morgan looked up at her rather blankly, then realized the attractive redhead was hovering, pad in hand and pencil poised, to take their orders for the meal.

"I can make a fresh pot-"

"No, it's fine." Morgan glanced at Quinn, who was studying the menu with one of those maddening little smiles of his, then returned her gaze to the distressed waitress. "Really, it is. I was just . . . trying to make a point." She hastily picked up her menu.

A couple of minutes later, their meal ordered and the waitress departed for the kitchen, Morgan frowned at her companion. "It didn't work."

"What didn't work?"

"Trying to lead me off on a tangent. Maybe I should start guessing who it is you're watching."

"So I can tell you if you're hot or cold?" Quinn shook his head. "Sorry, Morgana-no deal."

She felt frustrated but not terribly surprised, and since he was was a much better poker player than she was, she knew there was no use in hoping he'd tell her anything he didn't want her to know. "Well, h.e.l.l," she said in disgust. a much better poker player than she was, she knew there was no use in hoping he'd tell her anything he didn't want her to know. "Well, h.e.l.l," she said in disgust.

Quinn smiled, but his eyes were suddenly grave. "Suppose you found out that I believed someone you knew was an international thief and murderer. Could you look at them, speak to them, with the ease you had yesterday? Could you be sure that you wouldn't inadvertently give away your knowledge or somehow put them on their guard-which would certainly ruin our plans and likely put you in danger? Could you, Morgana?"

After a moment, she sighed. "No, I don't think I could. I'm not that good an actress."

"If it makes you feel any better, that's the major reason I haven't told any of the others. Because it takes a certain kind of nerve-or a devious nature, I suppose-to lie convincingly even under the stress of facing a killer. I know myself; I know that I can can do that. And since I can't be so sure of anyone else, I prefer not to take the risk." do that. And since I can't be so sure of anyone else, I prefer not to take the risk."

"But it is someone I know? Nightshade is?"

"Someone you know-if I'm right."

Morgan gazed at him soberly. "I get the feeling that no matter what you say-you don't have any doubts."

Quinn's humorous mouth quirked in an oddly self-mocking little smile. "Which ought to teach me a lesson. I'm obviously not the poker player I thought I was."

"Your face didn't give it away. Or even what you said," Morgan answered absently. "Just something I felt. But you are sure, aren't you? You know who Nightshade is."

"I can't answer that."

"You mean you won't."

"All right, I won't."

"Well, that's clear enough." Morgan sighed.

"You're better off not knowing, believe me."

"If you say so."

Quinn didn't comment on her reservations; he merely nodded, still grave. "Good. Then why don't we enjoy the meal, and you can fill me in on whatever was going on in the museum's bas.e.m.e.nt."

"Ah." Morgan nodded. "Then tonight is definitely more business than pleasure."

"I thought that was the way you wanted it."

"Oh, stop pretending. You know exactly why I walked off that dance floor."

He didn't hesitate. "Because I was an idiot and you decided to teach me a lesson."

"Did it work?" Her tone was rueful.

Quinn smiled slowly. "It worked. Probably even better than you could have hoped."

"Meaning?"

"Let's just say I've reconsidered my options."

Morgan wasn't at all sure she liked the sound of that. "And?"

"And I need you on my side, Morgan. So whichever way you want to play it is fine with me."

"Play it?" She could have sworn there was a gleam in his eye at her tart response. It made her even more wary. it?" She could have sworn there was a gleam in his eye at her tart response. It made her even more wary.

"Well . . . our public relations.h.i.+p. If showing little or no interest in me publicly is the way you'd rather go, that's fine. I can play the lovelorn swain."

"Did you have the powder room at Leo's bugged?" she demanded.

"Excuse me?" He appeared honestly baffled.

"Never mind." Morgan got a grip on herself. "So your plan is to hang around the museum looking wistful while I play hard to get?"

"It seems to be your plan."

Morgan trusted his solemn tone about as much as she trusted her own ability to fly without a plane. "Uh-huh. So if that takes care of the public show, what about the private one?"

"Morgana, I'm surprised at you. As if I would put on any kind of show show with you in private." with you in private."

"So you're going to be completely honest with me in private?"

"I'm going to be . . . completely Alex."

Morgan stared at him for a long moment, silently admitting just which of them was the master manipulator. Then she said mildly, "Well, it ought to be interesting. I guess I get you until midnight, huh? Until you turn into Quinn?"