Moving Target Read Online Free

as a vast, cactus-dotted wasteland. During Ali’s yearsat Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, where the elevation was close to seven thousand feet, and while she had been living in Chicago and on the East Coast, she had done more than her share of winter driving.
    “Don’t worry about that,” Ali assured him. “I’m fine in snow. I’m more concerned about driving on the left side of the road.” She didn’t add that she was also concerned about being in the car with Leland in a reversal of roles. At home in a vehicle, Leland was generally at the wheel. Now that he was beyond the age where rental companies would allow him to drive, Ali would be driving him. Leland had almost balked at going on the trip when he learned about that unwelcome bit of age discrimination. It had taken a good deal of cajoling on Ali’s part to bring him around.
    “Do you have plans for dinner this evening?” Jeffrey asked. “If not, my partner and I would be delighted if you’d come to our place. Charles is the most marvelous chef.”
    He made that statement tentatively, as though unsure what Leland’s or Ali’s reaction would be to the telling admission. Ali wasn’t privy to all the gory details, but she knew in general that Leland’s homosexuality was the reason his older brothers, Langston and Lawrence, had prevailed on their father to disown him. He had been run out of town in disgrace when he returned home to Parkstone after his stint with the Royal Marines during the Korean War. Now, it seemed, his great-nephew was following in Leland’s footsteps.
    Ali stole a quick glance in Leland’s direction. Nothing in his demeanor indicated that he had known anything about Jeffrey’s sexual preference in advance of their arrival.
    “I’m sure we’d be delighted,” Leland replied, “unless . . .” He paused. Ali realized that he was struggling to resist calling her Madame Reynolds. “Unless Ali here isn’t feeling up to it,” he finished finally.
    It was touching that Leland was concerned about Ali’s welfare while she, in turn, worried about his. “How far is it from the hotel?”
    “We’re just in Knightsbridge,” Jeffrey said. “Not far at all.”
    Ali nodded. “As long as it’s not too late. I suspect we’re going to be ready to bail pretty early.”
    Jeffrey frowned briefly, struggling with her American usage, and then he brightened. “Oh,” he said. “I see. You mean you’ll want to make an early night of it. Of course. Time zones and all that. Perfectly understandable.” He pulled out his mobile phone and punched in a number, then spoke into it. “It’s a go. They’ll come to dinner. As long as it’s early. Seven?” He raised one eyebrow questioningly in Ali’s direction.
    As far as she was concerned, six would have been better, but she wanted to get off on a good foot with all these folks. Earlier she had e-mailed the hotel with a request for an early check-in. The staff had not yet responded, but if they could get into their rooms, perhaps there would be time for a quick nap before dinner. She nodded. “Seven will be fine.”
    She glanced down at her watch. Ali had switched it to local time when the flight attendants made the time announcement on the plane. Once they got to the hotel, she’d try to be in touch with the important people in her life. She thought it was most likely late at night in Tokyo, where B. would be for the next three days, and it was sometime in the early morning back home in Sedona, where wedding planning was no doubt going on apace. On her iPhone, Ali had a world-clock application that would translate London time to Tokyo time or Phoenix time. The problem was that until she had a chance to exchange the SIM card for the one B. had given her to use on the trip, the phone was virtually useless.
    Jeffrey interrupted her thought process. “Charles needs to know if either of you has any food allergies or objections to Chinese food. That’s his specialty, you see, and