Free The Lady Vanishes by Nicole Camden Page A

it. He stopped, making all the balls disappear, and waited for her response.
    She blinked rapidly and took a startled breath. Shaking her head slightly, she turned away from him and quickly jogged up the steps. “I’m just not interested, Mr. Shaw. Find someone who is. I’m sure there’s a line of woman dying to be your inspiration.”
    Milton shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her climb the steps. If this was disinterested, God help him if she ever decided she really wanted him. He was liable to start writing bad poetry and building avatars that looked like her.
    Whistling softly, to no particular tune, he strolled back toward the street, where Shane waited. He might just do that, anyway, but he didn’t think it would convince her to go out with him. So what would?
    “Sir?” Shane said gruffly.
    “Yeah.” Milton nodded and walked around the limo to the back passenger seat, getting in quickly. Shane had left the car running, so it was warm, but Milton didn’t pay that much attention to it. Shane opened the partition and met Milton’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
    “The office?” he asked, his South Boston accent making the word sound like “ahhfice.”
    Milton nodded, then shook his head. “No, Harvard Square.”
    He didn’t have to explain to Shane why he wanted to go to Harvard Square, an intersection across from Harvard Yard popular with buskers and street performers. Shane knew that if Milton was headed there, he intended to perform. It was about lunchtime, and even in the cold, the businesspeople, tourists, and college kids would be out and about watching the shows. There was snow on the ground, but it had stopped raining . . . mostly.
    “You’ll freeze,” Shane pointed out. A man of few words, Shane, and always to the point.
    Milton nodded.
    Shane headed northeast, toward Beacon Hill, while Milton pulled out his phone and texted a friend of his, a private investigator named Burris Miller, a ridiculously tall man who liked to make beer. A former cop turned tech junkie, he did most of his sleuthing over the Internet. He didn’t give the man any details, just a name, Carter Burke, and a question mark. Burris would figure it out.
    He wasn’t sure it was a smart idea to see if he could find Regina Burke’s father, but he was curious if he could. The man had used his encryption software to evade the government and steal millions. Milton was interested to see if he could get it back. And if he could . . . maybe Regina would think well of him.
    The thought plagued him as Shane drove toward Harvard Square. Milton pulled out a small black mask and a top hat from another cabinet in the limo, and held both in one hand. When they were a few blocks away from the square, he had Shane pull up to a corner a few blocks away so he could walk the rest of the way, not putting on the mask or the hat until he was closer.
    Regina Burke and her beautiful mouth lingered in his head as he negotiated with a sharp-eyed kid running a game of three-card monte for a small table and an extra deck of cards. He hadn’t brought a table or any of his normal supplies, so he’d have to rely on sleight of hand for most of the tricks. It wasn’t his best skill—Roland was actually much better—but it would do, especially today, when his mind was occupied with thoughts of the beautiful doctor.
    He shuffled the cards rapidly in his hands, then made one levitate, grabbing it out of the air as if keeping it from escaping. He pretended not to notice the glances he received, and unlike the kid, he didn’t keep up a constant patter. He smoothly moved into another trick, spreading the cards like a fan and then pretending to drop them, scattering cash instead, much to the delight of the audience.
    A small group of women bundled tightly against the weather stopped to watch him, their cheeks pink from the cold.
    “Ladies.” He swept them a bow. “You look like visitors to Boston. Are you sightseeing?”
    They nodded, already