Midnight Jewels

sorry, Croft."
    "What happened?" No accusations, no anger, just curiosity, as if he were a stranger inquiring about how she came to be there.
    Croft was working, Mercy realized. When he was working that was the way he was. It was silly and dangerous to expect any sign of emotion from him at this stage of events.
    "I got a message from Gladstone and Isobel through Dorrie," Mercy explained quickly. "The implication was that you'd been captured and were being held until I brought the book. Like an idiot, I took the threat at face value and came running."
    "How did they know you still had the book?"
    Mercy frowned. "I don't know. They hadn't got hold of you, so they couldn't possibly have known… I guess it was my fault. When they said they had you I just assumed they knew you hadn't brought the book. So I, uh, offered to trade it for you."
    "They wanted to get you here so they could use you to get their hands on me."
    "Yes. I figured that out on my own eventually."
    "Then they planned to kill us both. Gladstone learned last time not to leave any loose ends."
    "That's one of the things I admire about you, Croft. You don't mince words in the crunch."
    "Not much point."
    "I guess not." She watched him, wishing she could throw herself into his arms but sensing this wasn't the moment. "What now?"
    "Now we wait. It will be easy enough for us to open the vault but we can't risk it until we know Isobel has gotten tired of sitting out front with her Smith & Wesson."
    "Well, if we're just going to stand around and chat for a while, there's something I want to show you." Mercy put a hand on the shelf upright that had moved earlier. She told herself she would be just as cool and professional about this as he was. "I don't know if it's important, but it's a little unusual and if this doesn't work, I've got something else to tell you. Something about
Valley
. You'll never guess—"
    "Mr. Falconer. You have accepted my hospitality for the last time." Erasmus Gladstone's disembodied voice blared into the small room through a tiny speaker in the ceiling.
    Mercy and Croft both looked up at the small grill. Mercy started to say something, but Croft silenced her by the simple expedient of putting his hand over her mourn. When her questioning eyes met his over the edge of his palm he silently shook his head. She nodded her understanding and he dropped his hand.
    "I know you can hear me, Falconer. I also know you think you are at least temporarily safe from Isobel's gun. But there was never any intention of killing you with a bullet. Even our local sheriff might feel obliged to investigate thoroughly if you and Miss Pennington were found to have died from bullet wounds inside the vault. Fire is so much cleaner, don't you think? I've had some experience with fire."
    Mercy's eyes widened as she stared at Croft. He glanced at her and then answered Gladstone.
    "Apparently fire wasn't clean enough last time, Graves. I found you again, didn't I?"
    "Ah. So you do indeed know who I am. I was afraid of that." There was a wealth of sad satisfaction in Gladstone's voice. "While I waited for you this evening I gave a great deal of thought to that unfortunate incident on the island. And I had come to the probable conclusion that you might have been involved in that episode. Was it you? If so, you destroyed several million dollars' worth of free enterprise three years ago. I still don't understand how you did it. My men reported no. sign of an assault force, no evidence of high speed government chase boats, no helicopters or planes. It would have been impossible for any sizable group to have landed on my island and escape detection."
    "It's dangerous to think in terms of impossibilities," Croft said toward the intercom. He motioned to Mercy and mouthed the words, a question about what she was going to show him.
    "You're wrong, Falconer. I think in such terms all the time. I also think about possibilities. And I have analyzed what might have happened that night in the Caribbean. A large group could not have infiltrated my estate. Not without giving themselves away long before they got inside the walls. But it is just barely conceivable that one man might have gotten inside. You were that one man, weren't you?"
    Mercy pointed to the shelf upright and soundlessly explained that it moved. She took hold of it and tried to demonstrate. The upright stayed rigidly in place.
    "Falconer?" Gladstone's voice rang imperiously from the intercom grill. "You were the