Lillian stepped forward and handed a business card across the expanse of desk. On the back was a hand printed telephone number. “He wants you to call him.”

“Now?”

“As soon as you possibly can.”

“Ms. Parker—”

“That’s all I know, Ashley. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to run. I need to be back in New York this afternoon for a staff meeting. Thanks for taking the time to see me.”

Ashley jumped up. “Lillian, have you ever heard of the Balaton jewels?”

She tucked her handbag under one arm. “I must be going.”

Ashley madly tried to think. “Have you ever met Sarah Balaton?”

“No.”

“Her father?”

“I see Andrew on occasion. Goodbye, Ashley. And good luck with Crockett.”

As soon as Lillian Parker was on the elevator, Ashley dialed the number printed on the back of her card. A light-voiced man answered. Ashley said, “I’d like to speak to J. Land Crockett. My name’s Ashley Wakefield. I believe he’s expecting my call.”

“One moment, please.”

In a few minutes, a deep rugged voice with an unmistakable Texas accent said, “Crockett here.”

“Mr. Crockett, this is Ashley—”

“I know who you are.”

She stiffened in annoyance: she hadn’t expected a man who wanted her to call him to be so rude. “You wanted to speak with me?”

Crockett didn’t hesitate. “I want to meet you.”

“That would be—”

He broke in. “When can you get up here?”

“Mr. Crockett,” she said, politely cautious, “I need to know exactly why you want to meet with me.”

He grunted, annoyed himself. “We can discuss that when you get up here.”

“This is about the institute?”

“Sure.”

She had a feeling she could have suggested they were to discuss African gorillas and he would have said sure.

“When can you get here?”

“Mr. Crockett.” Ashley weighed her next words: she didn’t want to put him off, but even if she believed his interest in the institute were legitimate—and she didn’t—she wouldn’t just fly up to Maine at an old man’s whim, regardless of who he was. There were procedures. And she figured she ought to be convincingly unsuspicious of his ulterior motives—whatever they might be. “If this is about the institute, I want you to know that anything we discuss will have to be presented to the executive director and the board. I can initiate a dialogue with you, but I want to be very clear—”

“You’re not answering my question.”

This time she let him hear her irritated sigh. “You’re in Maine, is that correct?”

Crockett made a noise that sounded something like a hoarse chuckle, but Ashley couldn’t be sure. It could just as easily have been a snort. “Correct.”

“Where in Maine, Mr. Crockett? It’s a big state.”

There was derision in his laugh. “To you damn Yankees, I guess it is. You coming?”

He wasn’t doing much to endear himself to her. She said coolly, “Perhaps you could tell me a little more about your sudden interest in the New England Oceanographic Institute and—”