Remember When

got the suppliers."
    "You'll need to hit those. We'll want a list of individuals and companies who've bought the sealant so we can cross-check them with the construction crews on these sites."
    "Going to take a while."
    "He's not going anywhere. He's right here." She scanned the street. "Thinking of his next move."
    ***
    He let himself into his apartment and immediately ordered the house droid to bring him a gin and tonic. It was so annoying to have to spend half the damn day in an office doing absolutely nothing that could possibly interest him.
    But the old man was tying up the purse strings, demanding he show more interest in the company.
    Your legacy, son. What bullshit! His legacy was several million in Russian whites.
    He couldn't care less about the company. As soon as he was able, as soon as he had what was his, by right, he'd tell the old man to fuck himself.
    It would be a fine day.
    But meanwhile he had to placate and coddle and pretend to be the good son.
    He stripped down, letting his clothes fall as he went, and lowered himself into the one-man lap pool built into the penthouse's recreation area.
    The fact that the company he despised and deplored paid for the penthouse, the clothes, the droid, never made a scratch on the surface of his ego.
    He reached up a hand for the g and t, then simply sprawled in the cool water.
    He had to get to Gannon now. He'd considered and rejected the idea of going to Maryland and just beating the information he needed out of the old couple. It could come back on him in too many ways.
    As it stood now, they could have no clue. He could be an obsessed fan, or a lover of the maid's who'd been in league with her to burgle the Gannon residence. He could be anyone at all.
    But if he went to Maryland he might be seen, or traced. He would hardly blend well in some silly small town. If he killed Samantha Gannon's grandparents, even the most dim-witted of cops might work their way back to the diamonds as the cause.
    If he could get to Gannon herself... It was so damn frustrating to discover she'd vanished. None of the careful probes he'd sent out had netted him a single clue to her whereabouts.
    But she had to surface sometime. She had to come home sooner or later.
    If he had all the time in the world, he could wait her out. But he couldn't tolerate dragging himself into that stupid office much longer, dealing with the idiotic working class or paying lip service to his pathetic parents. All the while knowing everything he wanted, everything he deserved, was just beyond his reach.
    He sipped the drink with one arm braced on the pool's edge to anchor him. "Screen on," he said idly, then scanned the news channels for any updates.
    Nothing new, he saw with satisfaction. He couldn't understand the mind-set of those who fed on media, on what they perceived as the glory. A true criminal gained all the satisfaction necessary by succeeding at his work, in secret.
    He liked being a true criminal, and liked-very much-raising the bar on his own exploits.
    He smiled to himself as he looked around the room at the shelves and displays of antique toys and games. The cars, the trucks, the figures. He'd stolen some of them, simply for the buzz. The same way he sometimes stole a tie or a shirt.
    Just to see if he could.
    He'd stolen from friends and relatives for the same reason, and long before he'd known he came by the habit... honestly. That thievery was in his blood. Who'd have believed it looking at his parents?
    But then, he'd gotten his interest in the toy collection from his father, and it had served him well.
    If his fellow collector and acquaintance Chad Dix hadn't bitched to him about his girlfriend, about the book she was writing that was taking all her time and attention, he wouldn't have known about the diamonds, the connection, as soon as he had.
    He might never have read the book. It wasn't the sort of thing he did with his time, after all. But it had been a simple matter to pry Dix for more details, then to wheedle the advance copy from him.
    He finished off the drink, and though he wanted another, denied himself. A clear head was important.
    He set the glass aside, did a few laps. When he pulled himself out of the pool, the empty glass was gone and a towel and robe were laid out. He had a party to attend that evening. He had a party of some sort to attend every evening. And he found it ironic that he'd actually met Samantha Gannon a few times at various affairs. How odd he'd had no