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pronunciation would barely be noticed. Money had been supplied to him
along with various pieces of identification.
One thing Falcon did
not care for was the bag he needed to carry. Outerworld did not have
supply stations that provided fresh, disposable clothing by making a
verbal request, and Romulus assured him he would not enjoy the
experience of shopping out there. He would have to take along clean
clothing and grooming aids if he wished to be comfortable during his
search.
It appeared that he had everything he needed with the
exception of a working knowledge of Outerworld. He intended to spend
the rest of that day and the next steeping himself in Americana. Then
he would depart, ready or not.
Falcon allowed himself a moment to
analyze something that he had set aside earlier. When Romulus relayed
the facts of the ship's disaster, Falcon felt his friend's grief, but
he himself was strangely affected by the news. Moisture accumulated in
the corners of his eyes, and an unfamiliar tightening occurred in his
stomach before he reestablished his usual firm control. Perhaps desire
was not the only emotion simmering within him these days. He would have
to maintain a very tight rein if he was to complete this job
successfully. His personal problems would have to be put on hold.
    Chapter Two
    San Francisco, California
The great fault in women is to desire to be like men.—Joseph Marie, Comte de Maistre
"Well, if it isn't Lady Stephanie!'
"Ooh, Stephanie, we missed your pretty face so-o-o, my dear."
"Hey, Stephanie, we all have to attend a kung fu seminar this afternoon. I hear you're the instructor!"
She
held back the usual retort and let their raucous shouts and laughter
wash over her. She hated the prissy name she was given at birth, and
these guys knew it. Her father had always called her Steve, and that
was the only name she answered to, that or Barbanell, her ex-husband's
surname.
If her coworkers did not like her, however, they would not
tease her, so she let them get it out of their systems. After all, it
was she who insisted that they treat her as an equal rather than their
employer, or worse, a woman. It would never do to let them see they
could get to her. Nose in the air, shoulders back, Steve marched past
them to her office as if she was six feet five instead of twelve inches
shorter. Her private office was the only concession she made to her
position in the firm.
Stopping in the doorway, she turned and looked
each of them in the eye—Harris, Pollock, and Wang: a black, a gay, and
an Oriental. No one could say the Dokes-OHara Private Investigative
Agency was not an equal opportunity employer. Out of respect for her
father and disrespect for her ex-husband, she had not changed the
agency's name after she inherited her father's half of the business.
Steve batted her eyelashes and smiled innocently. "By the way,
gentlemen, I'm replacing all three of you with superwomen just like me!"
Her
low sultry voice remained another source of teasing, but at times like
this she used it to her advantage. The men broke out in another round
of laughter. The bad thing about her voice was that she never sounded
very convincing when she meant to be. The last dirtbag who thought she
did not mean what she said was still in the hospital. Of course, that
was also part of what got her an unplanned week's vacation.
"Barbanell!" Lou Dokes's stern voice preceded him into the bullpen.
Steve
smiled quickly at the gray-haired, big bear of a man, knowing he had
little resistance to the familiar gesture. "Good morning, Lou. Glad to
be back."
"My office," he said curtly, turning away before he gave in to the urge to return her smile.
Steve
settled into the chair on the opposite side of his desk and waited for
the lecture to begin. He had been too angry with her to deliver it in
its entirety when he insisted she take a week off to unwind.
"You
may be interested to hear that your latest victim has regained
consciousness and has agreed not to press