“I don’t think that’s what Webber intended as the takeaway from his last message.”
“What, then?”
“I think he was trying to tell me that someone has one of the Phoenix stones and has figured out how to turn it into a weapon. That’s what the killer used to murder him.”
“Oh, my God,” Abby whispered. “Lander Knox.”
“Maybe. I knew that Thaddeus Webber was murdered by paranormal means. Now I know the nature of the weapon. We need to find that lab book, Abby.”
She took out her phone. “I’ll see if any of the deep-end dealers have responded to my offer of a preemptive bid.”
He drove very fast along the graveled lane and pulled out onto the main road, accelerating hard. He saw a car parked sideways, blocking both lanes, when he came out of the first turn. A man was slumped over the steering wheel.
The psi-chill that had been riding him hard for the last hour flashed into full-blown awareness of impending disaster.
“Hang on,” he said.
Abby looked up from her phone and saw the car. “There’s been an accident.”
“I don’t think so.”
He hit the brakes, slamming to a stop. He heard dog claws scrabbling wildly on the rear seat.
He snapped the SUV into reverse and shot back around the turn.
The maneuver got them out of sight of the blocking car, but he knew that they had only a couple of minutes, at most. There was bound to be a second vehicle coming up from behind. A classic pincer move.
He braked again. “Out. Into the woods. Go.”
Abby did not ask questions. She freed herself from the seat belt, opened the door and leaped to the ground, still clutching her phone. Sam followed. By the time he got out, Abby had freed Newton from the backseat.
“Head for the rocks,” Sam ordered.
They ran up the hillside into the cover of the trees, aiming for the jumble of boulders that formed a natural fortress.
“What is going on?” Abby asked, panting alongside him.
“Not sure, but I think that whoever murdered Webber left some thugs to watch the house.”
“But why?”
“Someone wants you, Abby. Someone wants you very, very badly.”
18
HE PULLED ABBY DOWN BEHIND THE COVER OF THE MASSIVE rocks.
“Keep Newton quiet,” he said. “I don’t want him giving away our position. Whatever you do, stay down.”
She nodded and tugged Newton down beside her. She put her hand on his muzzle. The dog seemed to comprehend that this was not a game.
“What’s happening?” Abby whispered.
He did a fast assessment of the available evidence.
“I think this was supposed to be a simple carjacking followed by a kidnapping. In a minute or so, they’ll realize that it’s gone bad. Won’t take them long to figure out which way we went. From this location, I will be able to spot them before they find us.”
“And then what?”
He took the pistol out from under his jacket and settled onto his belly to peer through the narrow crack between two rocks. “Then I use this. With luck, they won’t expect me to be armed. As far as most people are concerned, I’m just a guy who spends way too much time in a lab, studying rocks.”
“Sounds like an excellent career path to me.” Abby tightened her hold on Newton. The dog wriggled a little in her arms, trying to get free.
There was a fierce, all-too-familiar tension about Newton that Sam recognized. They were both experiencing the icy energy that accompanied danger, he thought, a unique kind of rush. He switched his attention back to the view of the road.
Down on the pavement, a man loped around the corner and into plain sight. It was the guy who had been slumped over the steering wheel of the blocking car. A second man got out of the chase car and joined his companion. Together they both looked at the open doors of the SUV, and then they turned to gaze up into the trees. One of them pointed at the pile of granite boulders.
“They just figured out that we’re up here,” Sam said.
“Not like we had much of a choice when it came to hiding places,” Abby whispered.
Down below, both men took out guns and started up the hillside They separated, working their way toward the boulders, trying to use the trees for cover. But it was clear that they were not accustomed to moving through heavily wooded terrain. One of them skidded on a pile of needles and stones and nearly went down. Dead branches crackled under their feet.
City thugs, Sam decided. Guys like this were used to dealing drugs in back alleys, conducting smash-and-grab robberies and carjackings, crimes more suited to an urban environment.
They were out of their element today, and working under a major strategic disadvantage, whether they knew it or not. They were advancing uphill on an opponent who had the high ground, a fortified high ground at that. And they didn’t know yet that the opposition was armed.
Sam settled into the zone. I can work with this.
The second man stumbled again and fell to one knee. “Shit.”
In the deep silence of the woods, the curse was clearly audible.
Sam squeezed off a warning shot. A branch exploded above the second man’s head.
“Shit,” the second man yelped again. He lunged for the cover of the tree trunk. “He’s got a gun.”
The first man scrambled for cover. “Yeah, I can see that.” He raised his voice. “You up there, the guy with the gun, listen, man. We’re armed, too. But this doesn’t have to get messy. We don’t care about you. We want the woman. Send her out and everyone walks away from this now.”
Sam let the silence echo. City thugs were no good when it came to the waiting game. They tended to be a jittery, impatient lot. They lacked the discipline for this kind of hunting.
“Hey, we’re not going to hurt the woman if that’s what you’re worrying about,” the second man shouted. “It’s okay, man. We’re just going to take her with us for a little while. We were hired to pick her up, that’s all. There’s this guy who wants her to do a job for him. When it’s over, she goes home, safe and sound. Nobody gets hurt.”
There was another long silence. The first man couldn’t take it. He leaned around the tree and fired blindly. Most of the bullets plowed harmlessly into the ground. A couple zinged off one of the larger boulders.
When the silence became intolerable again, the second man called to his friend.
“Maybe he’s out of ammunition,” he said, sounding hopeful.
“Like hell,” the first man responded. “He’s going to wait up there and pick us off if we try to get to those rocks. Shit, this isn’t going to work.”
“I’ve had it,” the second man said. “We didn’t get paid enough for this. Let’s get out of here.”
“You up there in the rocks,” the first man shouted. “You win. We’re leaving. Don’t shoot.”
Sam let the silence lengthen once more.
Cautiously, both men edged away from the sheltering trees and half crawled, half stumbled back down the hillside toward the road. Sam fired two more shots by way of encouragement.
Newton exploded out of Abby’s clutches. He charged around the tumbled boulders and raced down the hillside.
“Newton,” Abby yelped, stricken. “No. Come back here.”
“I knew that condo dog was going to be a problem,” Sam said.
“Shit,” the second man yelled. “There a dog.”
The first man had reached the chase car. He jumped in behind the wheel and fired up the engine. The second man tried to open the passenger-side door, but Newton’s jaws closed around his trouser leg. The guy yelled. He managed to kick free and get the door closed.
The chase car did a three-point turn and roared off, disappearing around a bend.
Sam got to his feet and went cautiously down the hill.
Abby followed quickly. “Newton, Newton, come here. Are you all right?”
Newton trotted back toward her, giving her a d
oggy grin. She went down on her knees and hugged him close.
“Good dog,” she said. “Brave dog. You’re the best dog in the entire world.”
Newton licked her furiously.
“Always figured he’d go for the ankle, not the throat,” Sam said. “Let’s get moving.” He urged her toward the SUV. “I want to make a stop before we head back to the island.”
“Where?”
“The Black Box lab.”
“Don’t forget, we have to make that nine-one-one call to report Thaddeus’s body,” Abby said.
“We’ll stop at a gas station on the way back to Seattle,” Sam promised.
19
SHE FELT THE HOT CURRENTS OF ENERGY SWIRLING INSIDE the lab as soon as she walked through the automatic doors with Sam. The interior of the Black Box facility, officially known as the Coppersmith Research and Development Laboratory, gleamed and sparkled with a lot of stainless steel and thick green-tinted glass. Instruments and high-tech equipment, including lasers that were clearly state–of–the-art and beyond, were arrayed on the workbenches. Computer screens glowed on every desk. Technicians in white coats hovered over chunks of raw ore and specimens of crystals and rocks.
There was a lot of heat in the room, Abby thought, and it wasn’t all coming from the specimens. She was fairly certain that most, if not all, of the researchers and technicians were talents of one kind or another.
One of the techs looked up when Sam escorted Abby into the windowless room. He yanked his safety goggles away from his eyes and got to his feet.
“Mr. Coppersmith,” he said. “Sorry, sir, didn’t see you come in. It’s been a while since you dropped by.”
Several other members of the staff noticed Sam and greeted him with a mixture of surprise and friendly respect. They looked at Abby with veiled speculation.
“I know I haven’t been around as often as usual in the past few months,” Sam said to the technician. “But I’ve been keeping tabs on things from my private lab. Abby, this is David Estrada. David, Abby Radwell.”
David nodded at Abby. “Nice to meet you, Miss Radwell.”
“Abby, please,” she said. “A pleasure to meet you, too.” She looked around. “I’ve never seen anything like this place.”
“Not a lot of labs like this one around,” David said. He did not bother to conceal his pride. “Rumor has it that our competition, Helicon Stone, operates a decent version of their own Black Box, but I doubt if they’ve got anything we don’t have.”
“If you ever find out that the Helicon lab does have something we don’t have, let me know,” Sam said. “We’ll get it for you.”
David laughed. “That’s what I like about working here. I get every toy I want.”
“How are things going?” Sam asked.
“Humming along,” David said. “I’m working on a very interesting piece of amber today. Definitely charged. Would you like to see it?”
“I would, but I don’t have the time. We’re on the way to the library. I just stopped by to say hello. Where’s Dr. Frye?”
“I think you’ll find him in the library,” David said. He smiled, as if at some secret joke. “With Miss O’Connell.”
There were a few scattered snickers around the room.
Sam took Abby’s arm. “I’ll catch up with him there. See you all at the tech summit next week.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” David said. “My kids can’t wait to go kayaking again. They’re still talking about the experience last summer.”
Sam guided Abby back through the automatic steel doors and down a hall. She studied the stone- and steel- and glass-clad walls, floor and ceiling.
Sam guessed her thoughts. “Stone, steel and glass are the three materials that do the best job of stopping psi-radiation and ultralight.”
“Stone and steel I understand. But glass?”
“Glass is still something of a mystery, and it has a history of being unpredictable when it comes to paranormal energy, because it possesses the properties of both a solid and a crystal. But here in the Box we use a special type of glass that we designed ourselves. It doesn’t always block psi or ultralight, but it does disrupt the oscillating pattern of the currents in many of the specimens. That works just as well as a solid barrier, in most cases.”
He stopped in front of another set of steel doors and entered a code into the security system. The doors made almost no sound when they slid open, which, Abby decided, was why the two people at the far end of the room did not realize that they were no longer alone. The pair stood very close, their body language signaling an intimate relationship.
Abby looked around with a sense of spiraling excitement, her senses dancing to the beat of the hot energy in the room. Unlike the crystal-based heat in the lab, this was her kind of psi.
The Coppersmith Inc. technical library resembled the rare books and manuscripts room of a large academic library. The atmosphere was hushed and Old World. Leather-bound volumes graced the shelves. Some were quite ancient. Many of the hottest books were housed in glass cases. There were no windows, and the artificial lighting was kept to a minimum. Green glass shades covered the lamps on the reading tables. The difference was that many of the books in this library were hot.
Sam coughed discreetly. “Dr. Frye, Jenny. Sorry to interrupt.”
The two people at the other end of the room jumped apart and turned quickly. The woman was clearly mortified. She appeared to be in her early forties and endowed with the scholarly, academic look that went with the library. Her silvering hair was cut in a sleek bob. She wore a navy blue skirted business suit and gold-framed glasses.
“Mr. Coppersmith,” she said, flustered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were here.”
“It’s okay, Jenny,” Sam said, moving forward with Abby. “Just stopped in to check on a few things and do a little research.”
The man next to Jenny smiled. “Mr. Coppersmith. Good to see you again here at the lab. It’s been a while.”
“Been busy,” Sam said. He sped through the introductions. “Dr. Gerald Frye, Jenny O’Connell, I’d like you to meet Abby Radwell.”
Gerald Frye was obviously close to Jenny’s age, but perhaps a couple of years younger, Abby thought. Thirty-nine or forty, although it was hard to be sure. It looked as if he had not bothered to run a brush through his shaggy mane of dark, graying hair that morning. His mustache and beard needed a trim. He wore heavily framed glasses and an unbuttoned lab coat that was liberally spotted with what appeared to be old coffee stains.
There was a polite round of Happy to meet you.
“Abby is an expert in hot books,” Sam said.
“Is that so?” Jenny smiled warmly. “Always a pleasure to meet a colleague. There aren’t that many of us who specialize in rare hot books. Do you work in one of the other Coppersmith labs?”
Here it comes, Abby thought. She braced herself for the inevitable reaction.
“No, I don’t work in one of the other labs,” she said. She gave Jenny her brightest professional smile. “I’m a freelancer.”
Jenny blinked. Comprehension dawned in her expression along with ill-concealed disapproval.
“I see,” Jenny said. “You work in the private market?”
“Right,” Abby said.
Private market was polite code in the hot-books world for the paranormal underground market, and they both knew it. Professional librarians and academics who valued their scholarly reputations did not dabble in the underground market, or at least did not admit to dabbling in it. They had their own reputations to consider, and, besides, it was dangerous.
“Right now, Abby is working for me,” Sam said.
Jenny’s smile was stiff, but she kept her demeanor coolly polite. “I see,” she said again.
Gerald Frye looked at Sam with a troubled expression. “I don’t understand. Is Miss Radwell trying to find a specific book for you?”
“Yes, she is,” Sam said. “It’s one I want for the family
collection, not the company library. It disappeared several years ago, but it’s rumored to be coming up for auction. Abby has that covered. The reason we’re here today is because I want to do some research.”
“Yes, of course,” Frye said. “In that case, I’ll leave you to it. I need to get back to the lab.” He bobbed his head at Abby. “A pleasure, Miss Radwell.”
“Dr. Frye,” Abby murmured.
Frye disappeared through the steel doors. Jenny gave Sam her own version of a professional smile.