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Trust Me

Trust Me

Titel: Trust Me Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Jayne Ann Krentz
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shadows before the man in the lighting control booth pulled the trigger. And they all required that she leave Ian behind to face the killer alone. She could not do that.
    Desdemona drew her jeaned legs up and rested her forehead on her folded arms. It was the only way to gain some relief from the intense light.
    She did not know that Stark had arrived until she heard his voice from the far end of the auditorium.
    “Are you all right, Desdemona?”
    “Stark.” She scrambled to her feet and instinctively started toward the edge of the stage.
    “Stop,” the mechanical voice boomed. “Don’t move, Miss Wainwright. Not another step.”
    Desdemona stumbled to a halt at the outer rim of the circle of light. She tried to see Stark, but it was impossible. “I’m okay.”
    “Good.” Stark’s voice was closer now. His large frame came into view. He walked down the center aisle.
    “Get on the stage,” the amplified voice ordered. “Move into the light. Hurry. I don’t have a lot of time.”
    Stark stepped over the footlights and walked into the ring of light. His face was no longer in shadow. Desdemona smiled tremulously at him. He looked solid and reassuringly familiar in his rumpled corduroy jacket, jeans, and running shoes. He carried a briefcase-sized computer in one big hand. Desdemona suddenly felt much calmer than she had a few minutes ago.
    “I’m sorry,” Desdemona said quietly. “I got an email message, and I walked right into this.”
    “I see.” Stark swept her with an intent, searching gaze, as if making certain that she really was all right. Then he looked down at Ian. “What the hell are you doing here?”
    Ian grimaced. “I walked into the mess a few minutes ahead of her. The bastard was waiting behind a curtain. Hit me on the head. Didn’t knock me out, but I was dazed for a while. He tied me up, gagged me, and dragged me out here onto the stage.”
    “You two have been busy,” Stark said mildly.
    “Stark.” The mechanical voice boomed once more from the lighting booth. “Did you bring ARCANE?”
    Stark held up the small computer. “I loaded it onto this laptop.”
    “I have to be certain that this is not another one of your clever little tricks. Switch on the computer and punch up ARCANE. Turn the screen toward me.”
    “Whatever you say.” Stark walked to the edge of the light and went down on one knee.
    He set the laptop on the stage, opened it, and tapped out a series of commands.
    Desdemona could not see the screen from where she was standing, but she heard the harsh sound of a quickly indrawn breath filtered through the speakers. The screen had obviously lit up.
    There was movement at the back of the theater. Desdemona turned her head, startled. She realized that the man with the robot’s voice had left the lighting booth. He was walking down the center aisle, microphone in hand. The white glare of the spot behind him made it impossible to see anything more than his dark, shadowed shape.
    “Very good,” the robot said with great satisfaction. “I didn’t think that you would play games with me. Not when her life was at stake.”
    “You were right,” Stark said.
    “I’ve always understood what makes people tick. I know what motivates them. You were never any good at that kind of thing.”
    “No, I guess not.”
    “Slide the computer to the edge of the stage and then stand back.” The voice still blared from the speakers even though the faceless gunman loomed in the aisle between the first two rows of seats.
    Stark placed the laptop at the very edge of the stage, outside the ring of light. Then he moved back to join Desdemona and Ian.
    “I appreciate your cooperation,” the amplified voice said.
    A black-gloved hand stretched out of the shadows to close the lid of the laptop.
    The instant that the robot’s fingers touched the metal case a scream of anguish screeched horribly through the loudspeakers.
    Desdemona winced. Instinctively she covered her ears with her hands to deaden the metallic shriek that bounced off the walls.
    “What the hell…” Ian whispered.
    Out of the corner of her eye, Desdemona saw Stark move. He launched himself toward the faceless shadow as it recoiled from the laptop and fell back against the seats.
    Stark dove off the stage and crashed into the reeling figure. Something clattered on the floor.
    “The gun.” Desdemona ran forward.
    Once past the ring of fierce white light she was plunged into a swampy blackness. She stopped,

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