The First Billion

Cate who was trustworthy.

Cate who was loyal.

Cate who was the most sensuous lover he'd known.

Unable to restrain himself, he ran a hand across her cheek and let it glide through her hair. "I miss you."

"Jett, no," she whispered, her eyes fluttering. It was a plea, a denial, a memory.

"Come on," he said. "Let's dance." And before she could answer, he grabbed her hand and led her to the parquet floor. Continuing its tribute to "Old Blue Eyes," the orchestra launched into "A Foggy Day." Gavallan drew her closer. In seconds, their hands had found familiar places, their bodies secret havens.

"So what do you want to know?" he asked.

Cate looked taken aback. "You're serious?"

"Have I ever kept anything from you?"

"That was when we were… That was before," she said.

Before. He hated the word. "You will, however, have to recite the sacred oath."

"Oh, Jett, come on."

"Sorry. You know it's important to me. I am an Eagle Scout, you'll remember. The oath, please."

Cate looked uncertainly to her left and right, then raised her right hand to her shoulder, arranging the fingers in a familiar salute.

"On my honor I will do my best

To do my duty to God and my country

and to obey the Scout Law;

To help other people at all times;

To keep myself physically strong,

mentally awake, and morally straight."

Gavallan nodded his approval. "At least I know your time with me was not completely misspent." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I guess the first thing you should know is that I'm pretty much tapped out. That much of the rumors is true."

And with that he launched into a recitation of the entire day's events: Byrnes's disappearance, the meeting at Sten Norgren's, his taking out the second mortgage, the particulars of his personal and professional liquidity crunch. He left nothing out.

"So, I guess you had a pretty dull day," she said afterward.

Seeing the mischief in her eyes, he laughed. For the first time since he'd woke, he felt as if things might turn out okay.

17

They'd danced three songs in a row. The entree was being served, and suddenly they were the last couple on the floor. Gavallan didn't need to look toward his table to know that Nina was staring daggers into his back. Let her, he thought. I'll take Cate. She can have Giles. Only Tony will be the poorer off.

"So let's get this straight," Cate was saying, "you floated Mercury a fifty-million-dollar bridge loan with no collateral- I mean, other than their stock? Shoot, Jett, I'd be worried, too, about what the Private Eye-PO says."

"Don't be ridiculous," Gavallan countered. "Mercury earned sixty million in profit last year on revenues of three hundred ninety million. No one's disputing that. They couldn't have earned it without the Moscow market. It's one of their biggest."

"I hope you're right, Jett. I really do. Because God forbid that Mercury isn't every inch the company your prospectus says it is, and you bring a fraudulent company public. And in this case I mean 'public' with a capital P. Two billion dollars' worth. Because your life will be over as you know it and everything you hold dear will be taken away from you. Your money. Your company. Everything. The only good news is that you won't have to worry about that second mortgage anymore. You'll have rent-free accommodations for the next seven years or so. Depends on the judge."

Gavallan listened to her assessment, his worry growing because it was the same one he'd made himself. Earlier, he'd told Tustin and Llewellyn-Davies they had to be true to their client. But Cate's skepticism, coupled with his partner's lingering silence, lent him second thoughts, Cisco receipts and Jean-Jacques Pillonel's word notwithstanding.

"A guy I know is tracking down the Private Eye-PO," he said. "Once we find him, I plan on having a heart-to-heart, just him and me, find out why he's going after Mercury before I have a judge slap an injunction on his ass."

"Why do you think he's going after Mercury?" Cate demanded. "Because he has the goods on them."

"Actually, we were looking into the possibility it might be personal, a grudge or something against Black Jet, or maybe even me."

"Oh, come off it. A grudge? Sometimes you really piss me off." The voice had hardly risen, but her eyes had narrowed and a rigid control had taken hold of her body. Dropping her hands, she turned and walked off the dance floor, weaving through the maze of tables to the hallway outside the ballroom. Gavallan knew she meant for him to follow.

She was waiting outside the ballroom, hands on hips, head cocked defiantly.

"Jett, I want you to listen to something I have to say. And I want you to promise me you won't get mad. You sent Graf to Moscow to check on Mercury's operations there and now you can't find him. Gone from the hotel. Not calling back. Whatever. Point is he's disappeared while he was supposed to be looking into Mercury."

"Yeah?"