Free Deep Breath by Alison Kent Page B

reluctant to leave. The champagne wasn’t much of a help. By the time they’d made their way around the entire room, she was holding her fourth flute. And she wasn’t walking so well.
    Neither one of them had eaten anything since she’d bought the Cokes and peanuts this afternoon, so he took the drink from her hand and herded her forcefully toward the food.
    He loaded a plate with shrimp things and crab things and puffy ham and cheese things before following her back to the original table and forcing her to eat.
    “What makes you think this dossier you’re looking for is in this lockbox?”
    “Where else would it be?” she hedged.
    Avoidance wasn’t going to cut it. He had to pin her down. “Unless you’ve actually seen it in there, then it could be in almost any city in any country in the world.”
    “Don’t be silly,” she said. “General Duggin lived here. In Texas.”
    “He traveled all over the world, didn’t he?”
    “He lived here,” she said, her words measured, clear, and sharp.
    Harry was seconds from writing off this exercise as a huge waste of time. And if not for the innocent people being held at the diner, he would.
    But until they were out of harm’s way and he picked up another lead to follow, he didn’t have much in the way of options but sticking this one out.
    That didn’t make him any happier. “What you’re saying, then, is that you really don’t know.”
    She swallowed a cheesy quiche thing almost whole. “What I’m saying—”
    “Georgia? Georgia McLain?”
    Both Harry and Georgia turned at the interruption. The man who had butted into their business was older, probably the general’s age, and dressed in a three-piece tweed complete with a watch fob and wire-rimmed glasses.
    When Georgia didn’t respond except to frown, Harry stepped in. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe the lady knows you.”
    “She wouldn’t, of course.” The older man smiled, held his lapels, and laughed. “I only recognize her from a photo I once saw. It was a long time ago, so I wasn’t sure. It’s just your eyes. They still look the same.”
    At Harry’s side, Georgia was shaking her head. “Where would you have seen a picture of me?”
    “Your father showed it to me. He always carried pictures of both you and your brother.”
    “You knew my father?” she asked, sagging into Harry’s side. “When? How?”
    “Oh, I apologize. Let me introduce myself.” He removed his glasses, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “My name is Paul Valoren.”
    “You were the symposium speaker,” Harry said, taking in the other man’s head of thick white hair and his even thicker waistline. What else had the invitation said? “You’re a professor…”
    “Political science, yes. At Stanford.” Valoren returned his clean glasses to his face. “I take it you didn’t attend my speech.”
    “We were late getting into Dallas,” Harry said, a weak explanation but all that came to mind, and true enough. He was still waiting for Georgia to react. Valoren seemed to be doing the same.
    She finally did, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “I’m sorry. I don’t recognize your name. Then again, I have had way too much champagne.”
    Valoren laughed, a strangely deep twitter. “Don’t worry, Miss McLain. I knew Stanley a very long time ago. I doubt he would have had reason to mention me to the little girl you would’ve been.”
    “You served with him in the military? Or did you know him when he worked for TotalSky?”
    “Actually, both,” he said, scuffing the sole of one shoe over the carpet.
    Harry wondered what the other man was thinking because the nervous gesture was a dead giveaway that his mind wasn’t in the moment. “If we’d known that, we would’ve made an effort to get here in time to hear you speak.”
    “Oh, who wants to hear an old man blather on about politics in the military, uh, I didn’t catch your name…”
    “Harry.” He extended his hand. Valoren’s grip was firm,