Zinnia Read Online Free PDF Page B

himself looking at lovely women in a decidedly skewed manner. Nick could appreciate superficial feminine beauty as well as the next healthy heterosexual male, but the physical attraction that resulted was also superficial. The older he got, the more unsatisfying relationships based on that attraction proved to be.
    He wanted something else, something more, something deeper, something infused with meaning. He wanted something he did not understand and could not name.
    The unfulfilled yearning had grown stronger during the past few years. It had played havoc with his sex life, which, he reflected glumly, had become virtually nonexistent in recent months. He wondered if all matrix-talents were burdened with this unpleasant side effect of their paranormal power or if he was just especially ill-fated.
    He pushed the intruding thoughts aside and indicated the chair that Hobart Batt had recently vacated. “Please sit down, Miss Spring. Obviously we have a lot to discuss.”
    She glanced at the chair, hesitated, and then walked defiantly over to it, sat down, and crossed her legs. One red high-heel shoe swung impatiently. “The only thing I want to talk about is Morris Fenwick.”
    “Strangely enough, that’s the subject that interests me most at the moment, also.” He leaned back against the desk and planted his hands on the elaborately carved edge. “Let’s start by straightening out a minor misunderstanding. I don’t know where Fenwick is.”
    She eyed him with a trace of uncertainty. “I don’t believe you.”
    “It’s the truth. I swear it. I may not fit your image of a respectable businessman, Miss Spring, but if you know anything at all about me, you must be aware that my word is considered good enough to take to the bank.”
    “You’re the only one who would have had any reason to kidnap Morris.”
    “Fenwick, himself, told you that there is someone else who is interested in the Chastain journal.”
    Zinnia frowned. “Yes, but he said that you were the one who seemed most obsessive about it. He said that you claimed that it was written by a relative.”
    “My father, Bartholomew Chastain. The journal is the record of his last expedition into the uncharted islands of the Western Seas.”
    She studied him carefully. “That would be the Third Chastain Expedition. The one in which the crew is said to have mysteriously vanished.”
    “Yes.”
    She looked distinctly wary now. He could see that she was swiftly slotting him into a mental file labeled
    KOOKS, ECCENTRICS, AND OTHER ASSORTED WEIRDOS.
    “There isn’t much information on the Third,” she pointed out diplomatically. “According to the official sources, it never took place. Morris told me that the University of New Portland records show that it was canceled. And everyone agrees that no Third Expedition ever filed a report.”
    “I know,” Nick said. “Twenty years ago a crackpot named Newton DeForest turned the story of the Third Expedition into a tabloid legend by claiming that the team was abducted by aliens.”
    She cleared her throat cautiously. “I take it you, uh, don’t subscribe to that particular theory?”
    “No, Miss Spring, I do not.”
    “But you do believe that the journal Morris discovered is actually Bartholomew Chastain’s personal record of the venture?”
    “Fenwick told me he was very certain that he had found my father’s journal. I want it and money is no object.”
    “Morris told me that you said you would top any offer he received for that journal, whatever it is.”
    “I will,” he said very softly. “Fenwick and I have an understanding.”
    Zinnia tensed in her chair. Her red heel stopped swinging. “Morris told me that he planned to sell the journal to you. He just wanted to get the best possible price. He contacted another client just to test the market. Get a feel for price. That’s all there was to it. If you had just been patient, he would have eventually sold it to you. Produce him and I’ll leave and we