Part 21 (1/2)

”Some of Len was worth admiring, worth remembering.” The rest wasn't, but Hannah knew that even better than Archer did.

She hesitated, then sighed and laced her fingers more deeply with Archer's. ”Yes, some of Len was worth remembering.” She lifted his hand and brushed her lips over his knuckles. ”Thank you.”

”For what?”

”Giving the best of Len back to me.”

Archer lifted Hannah's chin, kissed her very gently, and hoped that both of them lived long enough to enjoy the gift.

Thirteen.

Archer opened the small duffel bag that some nameless agent had left in the rental car while he and Hannah walked through Chinatown's windswept graveyard. If April had followed directions, there should be at least two changes of clothes for them.

”This should do it for the first round,” he said.

He pulled out uncrushable white slacks and a colorful floral s.h.i.+rt of the kind favored by tropical tourists. The wig that went with the clothes was black and breast length. A stiffened straw pith helmet again, a tourist favorite and black-rimmed sungla.s.ses completed Hannah's outfit. He added a handful of makeup for the finis.h.i.+ng touches. Ruthlessly he stuffed everything into the pith helmet.

”Have you ever worn a wig?” he asked, holding helmet and all out to her.

She stared at the black hair trying to crawl out of the pith helmet. ”No. It looks hot.”

”It is.”

She glanced around. The coffee shop they were in held a few hardy tourists whose vacations hadn't coincided with Broome's cool, dry season. The rest of the people were locals who apparently had nothing better to do than smoke cigarettes and drink coffee or beer until the sun gave up its grip on the land. Seash.e.l.l ashtrays overflowed, testament to the patrons' grim dedication to killing time.

”Bathrooms are back and to the left,” he said. ”I'll meet you out on the sidewalk.”

Silently Hannah got up, leaving her coffee and a half-eaten roast beef sandwich behind. Archer stretched lazily, though his gray-green eyes searching the room were anything but indolent. No one so much as glanced in Hannah's direction. He stood up, paid the bill, and went outside to wait.

A flock of sulfur-crested c.o.c.katoos burst from a nearby tree and swooped upward, spinning and swirling like noisy white leaves on a storm wind. After a few minutes the birds vanished into the part of the sky where the sun's burning disk transformed humidity into a blinding curtain of light.

”The hat is too big,” Hannah said from behind him. ”When my turn comes it will be too small.” She was still thinking that over when Archer led her to the front window of a tourist store, straightened her wig with a tug, and smiled at her haphazardly applied makeup. ”You don't wear makeup much, do you?”

”In the rain forest, men wore the paint, not women.”

He smiled. ”And after the rain forest?”

”Why bother? Makeup lasts about two minutes in the tropics.”

”Not this stuff,” he said, holding up the duffel. ”It's waterproof.”

”Miraculous,” she said with a total lack of interest. ”How do you get it off?”

”Oil. When we go in, pretend to be interested in the junk. But keep your sungla.s.ses on. Your eye color is too unusual. Someone might remember it.” He thought of giving her the contacts now, and rejected it. There would be time enough later to introduce her to the tearful joys of contact lenses.

Not to mention the basics of using makeup as both art form and disguise.

Before Hannah could ask Archer why she was wearing bad makeup, a wig, and pith helmet, he walked two doors down another bar and vanished inside. He took the duffel with him. Dutifully she walked into the tourist trap and looked through the goods. There were the usual kangaroo and koala designs on everything from T-s.h.i.+rts to teaspoons. There was a heap of tropical sh.e.l.ls gleaming in shades of white, cream, peach, vague gold, and every tone in between. Though many of the sh.e.l.ls were quite beautiful, she wasn't tempted to buy any. The sh.e.l.ls were perfect, which meant they had been taken from living animals. She would rather find her sh.e.l.ls on the beach, imperfect.

The only thing that interested her even slightly was a display of pearls from Pinctada maxima, the most common Australian pearl oyster. The sh.e.l.l was as big as a turkey platter and colored inside like a gentle tropical dawn. The choker necklace resting on the sh.e.l.l was made of pearls as big as a thumbnail. And like a thumbnail, these pearls lacked the satin iridescence of a quality gem.

On first look the necklace was flashy and a tremendous buy. On second look it rather resembled a tiny version of china eggs, the kind women once used for darning socks or fooling hens. On third look, the necklace was way overpriced. The pearls were big and fairly round, but their l.u.s.ter was dismal. Like chalk.

”Need any help, luv?” asked the shopkeeper.

Hannah turned around and saw a woman wearing hair an unlikely shade of red, a T-s.h.i.+rt proclaiming the joys of camel riding in the moonlight, and the kind of skin that came from fifty years of sunbathing. ”Uh, well...”

”Oh, no,” Archer said from behind her. ”You aren't going to start whining about me buying you pearls again, are you?”

The voice wasn't like his usual one. It was higher, longsuffering, and grudgingly indulgent.

It didn't take Hannah two seconds to catch on. She spun around and put her hands on her hips. Her mouth was set in a hard-edged pout, which was a good thing. Otherwise it would have dropped open at the sight of him. Loud sport s.h.i.+rt, safari pants, and no facial fur except for a thick mustache.

”I told you, baby,” he continued. ”Pearls cost more in Broome, not less.”

When Hannah spoke, it was with a p.r.o.nounced whine. ”I could be in Tahiti sipping gin and watching men in G-strings juggle torches, but no, you had to come to Australia. Adventure, you said. Exotic animals. Thousands of miles of pristine sugar-sand beaches. So I came, and what did I get? Mudflats, sweat, and nasty flies. But have I complained? h.e.l.l no. The least you could do is buy me some pearls!”

He looked at the choker, grimaced, and looked away. He would rather have owned the sh.e.l.l the pearls came from. ”Too much. It would max out our plastic.”

”We're having a special on pearls, luv,” the shopkeeper said quickly. She sized up the couple's clothes, the irritation reddening the lady's cheeks, and the guilt on the man's face. ”Thirty percent off. But since your Sheila's been such a good sport, I'll make it forty.”

He looked at the pearls, hesitated, and shook his head. ”Half, then,” the shopkeeper said instantly. ”You're a shrewd man in a bargain, mate.”

Archer shook his head, but his eyes gleamed with amus.e.m.e.nt only Hannah could see, egging her on.

”Honey,” she said, drawing out the endearment. Her tone was both s.e.xy and threatening. What she threatened was an embarra.s.sing scene if he didn't buy the pearls. ”You promised.” With a few curses under his breath, he reached into one of the eighteen pockets decorating his wrinkled safari pants, hauled out the wallet he had seen for the first time a few minutes ago, and handed over a debit card to the shopkeeper. Hannah gave him a sultry smile, put one arm around his waist, and began whispering against his chest. ”Is that your card?” she asked. ”Never seen it before in my life.”

Her eyes widened and she asked anxiously, ”Do you know the PIN number?”

”A little late to be thinking of that, isn't it?” She looked stricken.

”Don't worry, sweetheart.” He kissed her lips, then slid his tongue along them. ”It's all taken care of. Uncle is thorough.”

A few moments later Hannah left the shop with a cheap but not inexpensive pearl choker around her throat. Despite the inferior quality of the pearls, she liked the heavy, cool feel of them against her skin.

”What are you smiling about?” Archer asked. ”You throw away better pearls than that every day.”

”Yes. But this is the first time I've owned any.”

”Out of all the pearls you've seeded, sorted, color-matched, doctored, you never owned one?”

”Everything that was worth selling got sold. Except for ”

”Yes,” he cut in quickly, thinking of the black rainbows. He touched the choker with gentle fingertips. ”If I had known, I would have bought you a good necklace.” Then he laughed. ”No, I wouldn't have. Anyone who follows us will be looking for people who know about pearls. No one who knew anything about pearls would buy that necklace.”

She didn't argue, but she kept smoothing her fingers over the pearls just the same, enjoying them.