Midnight Jewels

under control. Whatever was destined to happen, she would be able to handle it better if she could find some strength and serenity. She needed to find the kind of calm Croft could find when he meditated.
    Surely it couldn't be that hard.
    A few more minutes passed. Mercy was not aware of any great tranquilizing sense of serenity descending upon her, but her mind, for some reason known only to itself, began to play with stray thoughts.
    Gladstone's words hounded her. The vault was a trap for others but not for him. What was it Croft had said? Something about Gladstone always leaving an escape route for himself.
    The vault locked on the inside. The only logical reason for such a bizarre arrangement was that Gladstone had constructed it with the idea that someday he, himself, might be in there.
    And if he had planned for the eventuality of having to lock himself in he would most certainly have provided a way out.
    Mercy took a deep breath and got to her feet. With no idea at all of what she was searching for, she started systematically going through the books on the shelves. Carefully she pulled each one off and stacked it on the floor.
    She decided to start with the section of shelves Gladstone had not had an opportunity to show her on her previous trip into the vault.
    Once or twice the book lover within her paused in wonder. She studied the elegant Latin on one title page and decided she was looking at a work by Thomas Aquinas. Mercy was awed by the precious book in her hand until common sense reminded her the volume was not going to do her much good in her present situation.
    It was when she bent down to carefully place the volume beside the others on the floor that she lost her balance slightly and had to reach out to steady herself. She grabbed the upright support on the section of shelving and was startled when it moved a fraction of an inch.
    Mercy released it instantly and stepped back. Then, tentatively she tried to move the upright again. This time nothing happened.
    Maybe she was starting to hallucinate.
    Mercy was giving serious consideration to that possibility when the vault door opened without any warning. The next instant the lights inside the small room were doused with a flick of the switch. Mercy whirled around, biting back a scream, and found herself confronting a solitary dark shadow.
    "Croft?"
    "Hush," he said in the softest of whispers, "not a sound, Mercy."
    She went toward him instantly, a vast relief welling up inside her. There were a thousand things she wanted to say, most of them variations on the theme of how glad she was to see him, but she obeyed his instructions and kept silent.
    He took her hand and turned to lead her out of the vault room.
    They got three paces before the lights went on all around them. Isobel stood in the doorway that opened onto the garden room, the gun in her hand pointed not at Croft, but at Mercy.
    "Did you think I would depend only on the electronics? Not a chance. Not when it comes to a man like you, Mr. Falconer. I've been waiting for you. Don't move or I'll kill your sweet Miss Pennington."
    The warning came too late. Croft was already moving. It happened so fast Mercy didn't have time to think. She found herself spun around and shoved over the threshold into the vault. Croft was throwing himself in behind her, yanking the door closed behind him.
    The heavy steel door clanged shut just as the sound of the gun exploded in the outer room. Croft found the light switch and bent quickly over the inside locking mechanism. "Isobel is going to have to learn that if she wants to make a success of herself in this line of work, she's going to have to shoot first and brag later."
    "What are you doing?" Mercy demanded.
    "Locking us in and Isobel out." He pushed against a bar and when it didn't give, he pushed a little harder. The metal bolt moved ponderously into position.
    "I hate to point this out, but we're trapped in here." Mercy rubbed her shoulder. It was bruised from where she had hit a bookshelf when Croft had tossed her back into the vault. She decided this was not the time to complain about that point. She had another, more serious complaint to lodge. "Croft, you shouldn't have taken the risk of trying to rescue me. Now we're both stuck inside this damn vault."
    He turned around to face her, his gaze hooded and enigmatic. "Are you all right?"
    She winced at the neutral tone of his voice. She hated it when he talked in that remote, detached manner. "I'm okay. I'm