~ All That Glitters ~

by

Gini Wilson

One

A blinding flash of lightning filled the elegant showroom. Paste replicas of diamonds and sapphires sparkled in the aftermath of nature’s fury. A millisecond later, an earth-shattering clap of thunder sent ominous vibrations through the building. As the rolling noise trailed away, Kate wished she had made arrangements to meet the man from the Justice Department in some nice friendly, well lighted, restaurant where people are always interested in what is going on around them.

But no, she had to play the woman in control, insisting that if there was going to be a meeting, it would be held on her home-turf or not at all. She hadn’t given a thought to the fact that the other businesses in the building were closed this time of night. Her nerves jumped at every sound. And damn the man, he was late.

Kate glanced uneasily up at the clock for the third time in as many minutes. At that very second, the front door burst open, bringing with it a gust of damp wind. Startled, Kate turned just in time to see a rain-soaked man, muffled to the ears in trench coat and fedora hat, hit the floor. His body splayed itself over the largest possible area, as if to say, this piece of earth is mine.

Kate, frozen to the spot, heart pounding furiously, stared in fascination. The man’s hand slowly started to open as he slipped into unconsciousness. She thought she saw a hint of glitter between his fingers just before the showroom lights blinked, then failed in another blinding flash of lightning. Thunderous reverberations shook the floor beneath her feet. Stranded in total darkness after such light-play, Kate’s sense of direction vanished.

An eerie green outline of the body reflected against the lids of her tightly closed eyes. She couldn’t move. What if she stumbled over him? For the first time in her life, she knew the true meaning of fear. The sound of her own heart pounded in her ears. Was this the man from the Justice Department? Why had he collapsed?

The showroom lights blinked once then came back on.

Nothing had changed. Glass showcases with their artistically arranged scarves, fans and paste replicas of the crown jewels of Europe still waited for their matching pieces of heirloom jewelry that were safe under lock and key. The elegant gray-on-gray wallpaper was still the perfect foil for her prized, eighteenth century, hand-carved, jade clock. And there was still a body lying at her feet. She must have conjured the sparkle she thought she’d seen shining between his fingers. The outstretched hand was empty.

The toe of his left shoe, lying on the threshold, kept the automatic door from closing properly. The heavy glass door bounced back open to its limit, letting in a new blast of wind and rain. Drops of water beating against the front windows gleamed as lightning lit the night sky once again. The strong odor of exhaust riding on the damp air invaded the showroom. The door repeated its opening and closing exercise against the man’s foot while wind driven raindrops made spots on the pale-blue carpeting. Kate was sure she was living in some terrible dream where everything was slightly distorted and yet continued to be familiar.

Icy fear clawed its way up her spine. Moving in what felt like slow motion, Kate hooked her fingers in his pants-cuff. She lifted his leg high enough to move the casually shod foot off the threshold, being very careful not to touch his skin. The door finally closed with a pneumatic sigh, shutting out the surging rain. Kate dropped his leg with a shudder of distaste.

She swallowed a giggle of fear. This couldn’t really be happening. Maybe if she thought of him as a piece of storm flotsam it would be easier to handle. She didn’t think he was the Justice Department representative. He wasn’t dressed like any agent she’d ever known. The question now, was why had this guy come into her store? Had her showroom been his goal or was her doorway simply a target of opportunity?

"You’re draining all over my new carpet, buddy," she said to the unconscious man, trying to soothe her snarled nerves with the familiar sound of her own voice. "You had better not be dead, mister, I don’t think I could handle that. Are you dead?"

As she hunkered down, gingerly reaching across the body to check the pulse in his neck another clap of thunder rolled away in the distance. "Oh my God! You are dead. Oh God, oh God, what now?" Kate hugged herself, tears of fright filling her eyes.

"I’ll take it from here," a deep masculine voice answered out of nowhere.

Startled, Kate sat down on the floor with a bruising thump, her heart pounding wildly against her rib cage. At first, she thought the body had spoken, then realized the voice had come from the direction of her workroom at the back of the shop.

"Well, don’t just sit there," the deep voice commanded. "Lock the door and close the drapes."

She cringed, wanting to scream in fear at the voice, but heard herself respond. "Who... I... What?" She stumbled over the words, her heart locked in overdrive. "And... and how did you get in here?"

"I’m your ten o’clock appointment. How I got in isn’t important at the moment. What is important is that you obviously need my help and the only way you’re going to get it is to do as I say."

"It might not be important to you, but--"

"You’re wasting time. Close the drapes and lock the door."

Exasperation won over caution. "I don’t know who in the hell you think you’re talking to, but--"

The voice rumbled out of the darkness again. "You are Kathleen Lynette Storm Anderson, widow of James William Anderson. You are thirty-two years old. A European-Russian antique jewel and artifact expert. Now close the damn drapes!"

Too stunned to argue with the authoritative tone, Kate got up from the floor, shot home the front door’s two dead bolts and closed the drapes. More than a little frightened, but unwilling to admit it, Kate turned toward the workroom.

It took a few seconds for her to spot him standing to just to the right of the darkened opening. When she finally located him, she stepped to the doorway and flicked a switch flooding the back room with light.

Large was the first word that came to mind followed closely by the phrases, animal quiet and deadly efficient. She had expected a forceful person, but not this hulk of a man. Cold, unforgiving eyes in a hard, ill used face looked back at her. He wore a black shirt, black jacket, black pants and black suede boots. There was nothing on his person to reflect light or catch the eye. Not even his hair. If he were standing against a black wall and turned around, he would disappear.