aul was waiting in the foyer when Sloan came downstairs, ready to face what Paris happily described as a day of pampering. "I was going to drop you and Paris off and then do my errands," Paul told her, "but Paris said this beauty routine she has in mind for the two of you is going to take a lot longer than an hour or two, so I'm going to take my car, and you're supposed to ride with her. They've already brought the Jaguar around in front."

"I'll walk you to your car," Sloan said with a meaningful nod toward the front door.

Paris's car was parked in front of the porch, but Paul's car was a little further down the drive, and Sloan waited until they were standing beside it before she spoke. "There's a computer in Carter's office networked to his bank. Paris said I could use it, and she gave me her password."

"Don't get your hopes up. He's way too cautious to ever allow Paris to access his files or log onto the bank's computers," Paul said. "He'll have his own password."

"I know. I'm simply reporting what I learned to you."

"I'd like to have a copy of that list of names and addresses Paris gave Maitland for the party."

"I'll ask her for a copy," Sloan said. "I could honestly tell her that it would make a nice souvenir and help me remember everyone's names."

"Good." He glanced toward the front door as it opened. "Paris just came out of the house. By the way, in case you haven't figured it out yet, Maitland is the one who forced the issue of a party for you. I thought you might want to know."

"I could tell Carter wasn't eager to do it, but how could Noah possibly 'force' him to have a party for me if he was dead set against it?"

"You would have to have been there to fully appreciate how he accomplished it. I was impressed," he admitted.

Sloan lowered her voice as Paris approached. "Yes, but why would it matter to Noah if Carter didn't want his friends to meet me?"

"I think," he replied with a knowing smile, "you already have the answer to that. Noah Maitland is smitten."

Sloan felt a rush of pleasure because Noah cared and an even bigger one because he'd been able to outmaneuver Carter Reynolds.

"We'll be gone for hours!" Paris exclaimed happily, walking up to Paul's car. "Sloan, we're going to have 'the works'—a facial, manicure, pedicure, massage, and then hairstyling. We'll have to hurry, though, because they're fitting us in, and we have to be there on time."

"Better get going, then," Paul told them; then he got into his rented car. He waited until he was several blocks from the house before he unlocked the glove compartment and took out his cellular phone. He dialed a number and the phone was answered by another FBI agent who was sitting on the pier, wearing a cap with fishing lures stuck in the visor and holding a fishing pole in his hand. "Can you talk?" Paul asked.

"Can I talk?" the other man repeated in angry disbelief. "You're the one who'd better do some talking, Paul. You didn't tell me you're down there on your own time and your own initiative. I got a call last night from the man in the big office as soon as he found out, and he's on a rampage. He thinks you've let a personal grudge cloud your judgment and that you're obsessed with this case. I'm serious, buddy, your ass is on the line. You're going to blow your career, and even if you do turn up evidence, Reynolds's lawyers will get it tossed out of court because of the way you're gathering it—"

"But I'm not looking for evidence, and when it turns up, I won't be the one who gathered it," Paul interrupted in the weary, patient tone of someone who is being forced to explain the obvious. "I am here merely as Sloan's 'facilitator.' I had nothing to do with Carter Reynolds's decision to invite his daughter here. And if his daughter happens to come across something incriminating during her visit, it's only natural that she would turn it over to the authorities whether I was here or not. After all, she's a cop."

"I'm not the one you have to convince; you need to call the old man and convince him."

"I'm on vacation at the moment. When I make him a hero, he'll calm down. In the meantime, I'm here and conducting myself like a perfect guest who is vacationing at someone's home. I play tennis, lounge around by the pool, have dinner, go dancing. I haven't opened a drawer or even a photo album without being asked to look inside it. I'm not telling Sloan where to search or what to look for. I've never told her Reynolds is using his bank to launder money, and I've never told her whose money he's laundering. I won't have to, because fate has stepped in and put her exactly where I wanted her."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that my gorgeous traveling companion has acquired a very persistent admirer, and no federal judge alive could rule out any evidence she gets on him, because I had absolutely nothing to do with it."

"Who is he?"

"Noah Maitland."

The agent drew a long breath and expelled it in a triumphant whisper. "Bingo!"