The FBI Thrillers Collection(101)

“What will happen to Doctor Beadermeyer?”

“Ah, Norman Lipsy. If only we’d thought to put Dillon on him earlier. That man can make a computer tap-dance. We all laugh that he’s not a loner like Quinlan because he’s always got his computer tucked under his arm, a modem wrapped around his neck like a stethoscope. He can get into any system on the planet. He’s amazing. We kid him that he sleeps with the bloody thing. I think that even if someone gave him a turn-of-the-century telephone, he could invent a modem that would work. Agents in the bureau don’t have partners like cops do, but Quinlan and Dillon, well, they always do well together.

“Good Lord, why’d I get off on that? You wanted to know about Norman Lipsy. He’ll go to jail for a very long time. Don’t spend any time worrying about him. He refused to say a thing. Said that Holland was a moron and a liar. But it doesn’t matter. We’ve got the goods on him.”

She shivered, her arms wrapped around herself. He wanted to comfort her somehow, but he didn’t know what to do.

He said, “Believe me, Lipsy is going down hard. We don’t as yet know all the people he’s holding there against their will. Our people will interview each one, look at each one’s file, speak to all the relatives. It’ll shake out soon enough. I think when it’s all over, lots of very rich, very famous folk aren’t going to be happy.

“Also, Lipsy’s an accessory to murder. He’s gone for good, Sally. No need for you to worry about him.”

Jesus, what had that man done to her? He couldn’t imagine. He really didn’t want to be able to.

When Quinlan walked up, his eyes alight with pleasure at the sight of Sally, all skinny and pale, her hair mussed, her own eyes bright with the sight of him, Marvin Brammer wandered back into his office thinking that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked so much.

She would pry every secret out of Quinlan and he wouldn’t even know what she was doing. Better yet, she didn’t even realize the effect she had on people.

Good thing she wasn’t a spy, they’d all be in deep shit. He was also mighty relieved that her mama hadn’t been in on the nastiness.





25




QUINLAN BROUGHT HER home, to his apartment, to his bedroom, to his bed, and now he was holding her, lightly stroking his hand up and down her back.

She was so very thin. He could feel her pelvic bones, the thinness of her arms through her nightgown. He had the urge to phone out for Chinese food—lots of sugar in Szechwan beef and pot stickers—but he decided he’d rather be doing what he was doing. Besides, he’d already stuffed her to the gills with spaghetti, lots of Parmesan on top, and hot garlic bread that wasn’t nearly as good as Martha’s.

“James?”

“You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“Mr. Brammer was very nice to me. He told me a thing or two about you, too.”

Quinlan stared at her. “You’re kidding. Brammer is the biggest closed-mouth in the FBI. If they gave awards for it, he’d win hands down.”

“Not tonight. Maybe he was tired or excited, like you were. Yep, he told me lots of things. You’ve got a big family. You’re a lot like your father, just for starters.”

This was interesting. Quinlan cleared his throat against her hair. “Um, was all he talked about—it was all the case and the players?”

“Most of it, but not all.” He felt her fingers playing over his bicep. He instantly flexed the muscle. A man, he thought, he was just a man who wanted his woman to know he was strong. He nearly laughed aloud at himself.

“What was the ‘not all’?”

“You. He told me about you and your father and Dillon.”

“Brammer and my father go way back. I wish you could have known my old man. He was a kick, Sally. I wish he hadn’t died—just last year. It was a heart attack, all of a sudden, so he didn’t suffer—but still, he was only sixty-three. He’d make you so mad you wanted to punch his lights out and then in the next second you’d be clutching your stomach, you’d be laughing so hard.”

“A lot like you. That’s what Mr. Brammer said.”

She was caressing his bicep again. He flexed again. A man was a man. He guessed there was just no getting away from it.

“He also said that you liked to play a lone hand but that he always knew what you were doing even if you would swear he didn’t know a thing.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, that old con man. He’s got moles everywhere.”

“Maybe now he’s got a mole who’s living with you.”

“That’s okay,” Quinlan said and kissed her.