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soon, and once we reached her apartment she really did make coffee.
Which was fine with me. It was good coffee, and we sat together and sipped it. Plenty of time . . .
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One thing finally did lead to another. We found ourselves in the bedroom a bit later, our clothes on a
nearby chair, and I was congratulating myself that the meeting for which I had returned had not come off.
She was smooth and soft and warm, and there was just enough of her in all the right places. A vise in
velvet, with honey . . . the scent of her perfume . . .
We lay there, much later, in that peaceful state of temporary fatigue on which I will not waste
metaphors. I was stroking her hair when she stretched, turned her head slightly, and regarded me through
half-lidded eyes.
"Tell me something," she said. "Sure."
"What was your mother's name?"
I felt as if something prickly had just been rolled along my spine. But I wanted to see where this was
leading. "Dara," I told her.
"And your father?"
"Corwin."
She smiled.
"I thought so," she said, "but I had to be sure."
"Do I get some questions now? Or can only one play?"
"I'll save you the trouble. You want to know why I asked."
"You're on the ball."
"Sorry," she said, moving her leg.
"I take it their names mean something to you?"
"You are Merlin," she stated, "Duke of Kolvir and Prince of Chaos."
"Damn!" I observed. "It seems everybody in this shadow knows who I am! Do you all belong to a
club or something?"
"Who else knows?" she asked quickly, her eyes suddenly wide.
"A fellow named Luke Raynard, a dead man named Dan Martinez; a local man named George
Hansen, probably, and another dead man named Victor Melman . . . Why? These names ring any bells?"
"Yes, the dangerous one is Luke Raynard. I brought you here to warn you about him, if you were
the right one."
"What do you mean `the right one'?"
"If you were who you are - the son of Dara."
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"So warn me."
"I just did: Don't trust him."
I sat up and propped a pillow behind me.
"What's he after? My stamp collection? My traveler's checks? Could you be a little more specific?"
"He tried several times to kill you, years ago-"
"What? How?"
"The first time it involved a truck that almost ran you down. Then the next year-"
"Gods ! You really do know ! Give me the dates, the dates he tried it."
"April 30, always April 30."
"Why? Do you know why?"
"No."
"Shit. How do you know all of this?"
"I was around. I was watching."
"Why didn't you do something about it?"
"I couldn't. I didn't know which of you was which."
"Lady, you've lost me completely. Who the hell are you, and what's your part in this?"
"Like Luke, I am not what I seem," she began.
There came a sharp buzzing around firom the next room.
"Oh my!" she said and sprang out of bed.
I followed her, arriving in the foyer as she pushed a button beside a small grating and said, "Hello?"
"Honey, it's me," came the reply. "I got home a day early. Buzz me in, will you? I'm carrying a bunch
of packages."
Oh-oh.
She released the one button and pushed another, turning toward me as she did so.
"The husband," she said, suddenly breathless. "You've got to leave now. Please! Take the steps!"
"But you haven't told me anything yet!"
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"I've told you enough. Please don't make trouble!"
"Okay," I said, hurrying back to the bedroom, pulling on my pants and slipping my feet into my
loafers.
I stuffed my socks and underwear into my hip pockets drew on my shirt.
"I'm not satisfied," I said. "You know more and I want it."
"Is that all you want?"
I kissed her cheek quickly.
"Not really. I'll be back," I said.
"Don't," she told me. "It won't be the same. We shall meet again, when the time is right."
I headed for the door.
"That's not good enough," I said as I opened it.
"It will have to be."
"We'll see."
I tore off up the hall and pushed open the door beneath the EXIT sign. I buttoned my shirt and
tucked it in on my way down the steps. I paused at the bottom to draw on my socks . I ran a hand
through my hair then and opened the door to the lobby.
No one in sight. Good.
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