Okay. The window glided up soundlessly and the music faded out.

I hope you dont mind, Logan said.

No, I have trouble with sad songs. But I cant imagine you crying in your beer over one.

He shrugged. Im human. Those country-song writers know exactly how to hit you.

Her gaze shifted to the back of Gils head. Hes nice. Not exactly what I expected in one of your employees.

Gils not what anyone expects, but hes a good driver.

And bodyguard?

That too. He used to be in the Air Force Military Police, but he doesnt respond well to discipline.

Do you?

No, but I usually try to work my way around it instead of punching people out. He gestured out the side window. Well be on my land in a few minutes. Its pretty country with lots of woods and meadows.

I suppose so. It was too dark to see more than shadowy trees. She was still absorbed with the com-parison Logan had made between himself and Price. And what do you do when you cant work around anyone who tries to discipline you?

Why, punch them out. He smiled. Thats why Gil and I get along. Were soul mates. They turned a curve in the road, and a twelve-foot-tall elaborate wrought iron fence loomed before them.

She watched Gil press a control on the dashboard, and the gates swung slowly open.

Is the fence electrified too? she asked.

He nodded. And I have a security man moni-toring the grounds by video camera from the carriage house.

She felt a sudden chill. Very high-tech. I want my own remote to open those gates.

He looked at her.

Gates that keep people out can also keep them in. I dont like the idea of being in a cage.

Im not trying to keep you prisoner, Eve.

No, not if you can get what you want any other way. But what if you cant?

I cant force you to work.

Couldnt you? Youre a very clever man, Logan. I want my own remote to open those gates.

Tomorrow. It will have to be programmed. He smiled sardonically. I think its safe to assume I wont try to bulldoze you in the next twenty-four hours.

Tomorrow. She leaned forward as the house came into view. The moon had come out from behind the clouds and lit the place. Barrett House was a sprawling two-story stone building that looked like the nineteenth-century inn Gil had said it had once been. There was nothing pretentious about it, and the ivy covering the walls softened the stone. As Gil stopped the car in front of the front door, she asked, Why buy an inn that you had to restore? Why not just build a new house?

Logan climbed out of the car and held out his hand to help her. It had a few unique features that appealed to me.

Dont tell me. It had its own graveyard.

He grinned. The Barrett family cemetery is just over the hill. But that wasnt why I bought the inn. He opened the tall mahogany front door. There arent any live-in servants. I have cleaning people come in from town twice a week. Well have to fend for ourselves in the kitchen.

It doesnt matter. Im not accustomed to ser-vants, and food isnt a high priority for me.

His gaze ran over her. I can tell. Youre lean as a greyhound.

I like greyhounds, Gil said as he carried the luggage into the hall. Graceful and those great, big wistful eyes. I had one once. Nearly killed me when he died. Where do you want her bags?

The first door at the head of the stairs, Logan said.

Right. Gil started up the steps. Pretty boring. My quarters are in the old carriage house, Eve. You should ask him to put you out there. More privacy.

This will be more convenient to the lab, Logan said.

And more convenient for Logan to keep tabs on me, Eve thought.

Margaret must have gone to bed. Youll meet her in the morning. I think youll find everything you need in your room.

I want to see my lab.

Now?

Yes. You may not have equipped it properly. I may have to supplement it.

Then by all means come with me. Its one of the added rooms in the back. I havent seen it myself. I had Margaret get you everything she thought youd need.

The efficient Margaret again.

Not only efficient. Exceptional.

She followed Logan across a huge living room with a fireplace large enough to walk into, plank floors covered by woven hemp carpets, and oversized leather furniture. It looked like a lodge, she decided.

He led her down a short hall and then opened a door. Here you are.

Coldness. Sterility. Gleaming stainless steel and glass.

Oops. Logan grimaced. This must be Mar-garets idea of scientific heaven. Ill try to warm it up for you.

It doesnt matter. I wont be here that long. She strode over to the pedestal. It was sturdy and ad-justable. The three video cameras on tripods next to it were top-notch, as were the computer, mixer, and VCR. She moved over to the workbench. The mea-suring instruments were high-grade, but she pre-ferred the ones she had brought with her. She took the wooden box from the shelf above the bench, and sixteen sets of eyes stared up at her. All variations of hazel, gray, green, blue, brown. Blue and brown would have been sufficient, she said. Brown is the most prevalent eye color.