Susannah tried to cry out, but she was dazed. He was moving more quickly. The paper lanterns flashed by in the trees overhead. A scream rose inside her, but the only sound that passed through her lips was a weak whimper. "Paige…"

A flash of pink appeared at her side, a cloud of blond hair. "I'm here, Suze. I'm here. Don't try to talk. Oh, sweetie, don't try to talk."

"Stop him…" Susannah tried to force out the syllables. Cal's fingers dug more deeply into her ribs. "Don't let him… take me… inside," she gasped.

Paige stroked her head. "Stop who, sweetie? It's all right."

"She's in shock." Cal picked up his pace. He was at the back of the house, stepping onto the patio. "See to the guests. Make certain no one was hurt."

"Stop… him. He tried… to kill…"

"What's she saying, Cal?" Her sister brushed her arm. "Suzie, I can't understand you."

"She's hysterical, Paige."

"What's wrong, honey?" Paige murmured. "We'll take care of you."

Susannah pushed the words out. "He… tried to kill me."

"Don't listen-"

Paige's voice was flat. "Stop for a minute, Cal."

Cal kept moving. "She's been hurt. I have to get her inside. Go see to the guests."

"I said to stop!" Paige threw herself at him, the mother lioness protecting her cub.

Men appeared at her side. Cal let Susannah go, and Paige pulled her down onto a patio chaise. The world gradually steadied.

A crowd was forming around her. Through a breach she saw the buffet tables covered in rose-colored linen. Ice falcons with their wings spread in flight dripped into silver trays. Nicole Theroux, frightened and bewildered, was standing at Cal's side. Cal looked frantic, and people were staring at him. He tried to disperse the crowd, but no one moved. Susannah recognized several of the FBT board members and their wives, many of the same people who had witnessed her disastrous wedding.

Paige held her bleeding wrists and told her to lie down, but there was no time. Susannah turned to Paul Clemens, her father's friend. "Paul…" Her voice was as weak as an old woman's. "In the library. There's a tape recorder…" She told him where she had hidden it. The effort exhausted her.

Cal started toward the back door.

"You stay right here," Paul said sternly.

The men at the gathering were accustomed to taking command, and without a word being spoken, they began to step forward in a silent cadre. Cal looked at them, his face haggard as he tried to comprehend the fact that his world was being ripped apart. Before they could get close to him, he broke away and dashed toward the side of the house.

Several of the men gave chase, but Cal was running with a strength born of desperation, and he eluded them.

Paul had fetched the recorder, and he rewound the small tape. No one in the crowd spoke. Susannah held her sister's hand as the tape began to play.

Later there was a doctor and the police. Paige tucked Susannah into Joel's old bed, murmuring over the white bandages that encircled her wrists. The doctor had given her a sedative, but Susannah struggled to tell Paige something before she fell asleep.

"I saw him."

Paige gently stroked the damp, clean hair back off Susannah's forehead. "Who did you see?"

"Daddy." Susannah's eyes clouded with tears. "He came to me when I was dying. Oh, Paige, Daddy came to me."

Paige patted Susannah's hand. "Go to sleep, Suze. You go to sleep now."

Chapter 32

"I'm going to kill her!"

Pain had taken over every part of Susannah's body. She squeezed her eyes tight and wished that whoever was making so much noise in the hallway would be quiet. The sedative was powerful, and it took her a while to realize it was Mitch talking. Only a faint gray light seeped through the window. Why had he come to visit so early?

"How could she have done something so stupid?" His voice sounded like a jackhammer at dawn. "I mean it, Paige. As soon as she wakes up, I'm going to kill her."

"Shhh," Paige hissed. "You're acting like a wild man. Yank, make him be quiet."

After Mitch's angry bellow, Yank's murmurings were like a soft breeze. Susannah drifted back to sleep.

When she awakened several hours later, bright sunlight was streaming through her window. Intermingled with the stiffness in her muscles was a piercing sense of joy. She was alive for a new day.

The mattress sagged. She turned her head and saw Yank lowering himself to sit next to her. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair rumpled, his face lined with worry. At the sight of that dear sweet face, everything inside her broke apart. "Oh, Yank…"

Mitch had his hand on the doorknob when he heard Susannah's moan. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair standing in spikes on his head. He had been by her bedside all night and had just stepped out for a moment to help Paige deal with an overly aggressive reporter. Now he yanked open the door, overwhelmed with the irrational notion that her soft moan was a death rattle. He shouldn't have left, not even for a moment. He hadn't watched her carefully enough, and now she was going to die.

As he rushed into the bedroom, the scene in front of him gradually came into focus. She was curled up against Yank's chest as if he were the only man on earth. Mitch felt as if someone had given him a sucker punch right in the gut.

Yank lifted his head and saw him. He smiled his gentle smile. "Susannah's awake."

"Yes," Mitch said, his voice cracking with emotion. "Yes, I see."

Susannah stiffened against Yank. He laid her back on the bed. She turned toward Mitch.

"Hi, Hot Shot," he said, trying to make it easy for her by keeping his voice light.

She held out her hand. "Mitch."

He walked over to her, sat down on the side of the bed and curled her fingers through his. At the sight of the bandages on her wrists, he wanted to weep.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," she murmured.

He squeezed her hand tighter, pressed his eyes shut. "No more detective work, honey. Promise me."

Paige came into the bedroom leading a housekeeper and maid, all of them carrying trays ladened with food. "The police picked Cal up at a private airfield an hour ago, and the house is surrounded with three more television crews. No one is talking to anybody until everybody's had breakfast."

They didn't feel like eating, but none of them had the nerve to argue with Paige when the feeding urge was upon her.

In the aftermath of the scandal, FBT had a public relations nightmare on its hands, while Susannah became the Valley's Joan of Arc. Before a month had passed, her face had appeared on the cover of three national magazines. She sparred with Ted Koppel on Nightline and appeared on all three network morning news shows.

Would you buy a new computer from this woman?

You bet.

The publicity brought in an avalanche of orders for the Blaze III, and SysVal scrambled to get back to full staff to process them.

In the meantime, FBT struggled to extract itself from a public relations nightmare. Having its former CEO in jail waiting to go on trial for industrial sabotage and attempted murder definitely wasn't good for a company's image, and the corporation's stock tumbled to the price of a haircut. The state of California canceled its contract for the Falcon 101 and ordered the III. Investment money poured in to SysVal, as well as the initial payment on a huge financial settlement from FBT.

Although it was early evening, the SysVal parking lot was still half full as Sam pulled in. He turned off the ignition and sat in the car for a few minutes without moving. Six weeks had passed since Theroux had tried to kill Susannah. Sam had stayed away from SysVal while the worst of the media circus had gone on, but time was running out, and he had to make his move.

Since early spring he had devoted every minute to launching his new company. The concept was so beautiful, he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it years ago. One night he had been handing over his credit card at a restaurant when it had hit him. He had stared down at that slim piece of plastic and felt as if the top of his head had blown off. What would happen if credit cards were embedded with microchips?

Aw, man… He had almost started to cry as he envisioned the beauty of it. The way the world did business would change forever. Ideas had flashed through his mind like lasers at a rock concert. An electronic credit card could handle bank transactions, dial a telephone, take care of parking meters and vending machines. A person's entire credit history could be stored on the card, their medical history, their fucking life history. The card could function as a door key, an ignition key, a security pass. His head had reeled. Jeezus…

He had more investors waiting in line to bankroll him than he needed. Money was no problem, but people were. He had gone on a raid, picking up some of the bright youngsters that SysVal had laid off, stealing a few programmers from Bill Gates at Microsoft, a top executive from Intel. He had seduced a marketing whiz away from Apple. The Valley was churning with bright, young talent, and he had gone after the best. By mid-summer, he had money and he had a staff.

Now he needed Yank.

As he pocketed his keys and began to walk across the lot toward the building, he thought how sweet life had turned for his former partners. Hardly a week passed without another story in the newspapers about them. He tried not to resent the fact that the press had cast him as a villain because he'd bailed out of SysVal when it was in trouble. Since he'd sold his partnership at a deflated price, the bail-out had cost him millions, but he'd still made a fortune and he didn't care. Money wasn't the game. The game was vision. SysVal had gotten old and respectable. He wanted a challenge, a new adventure. He liked to be in on the beginning of the game, not the end. Some people weren't capable of business as usual, and he was one of them.