“I see you’re still hanging around,” Nick said.
“Sure,” Sam said. “I live in hope that one day you and I will be friends.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“I’m crushed, of course,” Sam said. “But I’m sure I’ll get over it.”
Abby leaned forward. “What’s going on, Nick?”
“As of five-thirty this afternoon, I am no longer your competition,” Nick said. “I fired my client, and I stopped looking for that hot encrypted book. If you’ve got any sense, you’ll quit looking for it, too.”
“What happened?” Abby asked.
“Benny Sparrow had a heart attack and died in his shop last night.”
“Not Benny, too,” Abby whispered.
“Yeah.” Nick took a small taste of his drink and set the glass down. “I was willing to overlook Webber’s heart attack. He was an old man and in bad health. Stuff happens. But now that Benny has checked out the exact same way, we’re looking at one too many coincidences.”
“Who was Benny Sparrow?” Sam asked.
“One of the three or four deep-end dealers most likely to be using the alias of Milton,” Nick said.
“The killer must have gotten Benny’s name from Thaddeus,” Abby said.
“Looks like it,” Nick said.
“Do you think Benny had the notebook?” Sam asked.
“If he did, the killer has it now,” Nick said. “We won’t know one way or another until we find out if the auction is still on. So far, there hasn’t been any update.” He turned to Abby. “This thing is way beyond a deep-end deal. We’re talking the Mariana Trench. Time to bail, my friend.”
“I can’t, Nick,” Abby said.
“Listen to me, Abby. You need to dump Coppersmith here, and get the hell out of Dodge. Like right now. I’m leaving town tonight. You can come with me.”
“If the book is locked in a psi-code, then leaving town won’t do me much good,” Abby pointed out. “If the killer does have the book and decides he needs me, he’ll come looking. I can’t run forever.”
“I can set you up with a clean ID,” Nick said. “I made new, updated sets for you and Gwen a while back, just in case.”
“Thanks, but it would be hard for me to disappear permanently,” Abby said. “My family may not be close, but trust me, a lot of my relatives would notice if I just up and vanished tonight.”
“Not to mention me,” Sam said. “I’d notice, too.”
Nick glared at him. “You still think you can take care of her?”
“I’m in a better position to protect her than you are,” Sam said.
Abby gave Nick a worried look. “Where are you going?”
“To Hawaii to join Gwen. Got a reservation on a red-eye. I’m taking an extended vacation until this auction is over.”
“Who was your client?” Abby asked.
“Mr. Anonymous,” Nick said. “I’ve done other jobs for him. Look, are you sure you don’t want to come with me tonight, Abby?”
“I can’t,” Abby said.
“You may be in real danger here.”
Abby sat back against the cushions. “I’ll be okay.”
Nick gave Sam a dismissive look and turned back to her. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” Abby smiled. “I’m sure.”
“You’ll call me if you change your mind?” Nick asked.
“I’ll call,” Abby said.
“In that case, I’m gone.”
Nick downed the rest of the blue martini and pushed himself out of the booth. He looked at Sam.
“Remember what I said, Coppersmith. If anything happens to Abby, you’ll answer to me.”
“I’ll take good care of her,” Sam said.
Nick turned on his heel and disappeared through the doorway marked Restrooms.
Sam looked at Abby. “I’m assuming he didn’t just go to the men’s room?”
“That hall leads to the alley exit,” Abby said. “Nick must really be running scared if he was afraid to go out the front door.”
34
THE ICY-FINGERS-ON-THE-BACK-OF-THE-NECK SENSATION hit Sam when they stepped out of the elevator on Abby’s floor a short time later.
“Give me your key,” he said quietly.
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Abby whispered.
“Yeah.”
She looked at the closed door of her apartment as if she expected to find a cobra on the other side. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
He took the key from her. “Stay here,” he said.
“Sam?”
“I don’t think there’s anyone inside now,” he said. “Whoever was here is long gone.”
He slipped the pistol out from under his jacket, just in case, and opened the door.
Shadows and a disturbing energy spilled out, but he did not pick up the subtle vibes that indicated the presence of someone hiding inside the apartment.
“Whoever was here is gone,” he said.
“Ralph, the doorman, maybe.”
“I don’t think so.”
He moved into the short hall and turned the corner. The city lights illuminated the chaotic scene in the living room. There was nothing professional about the search. The small condo had been ransacked by someone who must have been in a fit of rage at the time.
Books had been pulled off the shelves and dumped on the floor. The intruder had taken a knife to the cushions of the sofa and the reading chair. The contents of the desk drawers were scattered across the floor.
Sam did a quick tour of the bedroom and bath. Both rooms looked as if they had been hit by a tornado.
He headed back toward the living room, trying to think of a way to break the bad news to Abby. The hushed cry from the front hall told him that she had seen the disaster for herself.
He walked around the corner and saw her. She stood in the hallway, staring at her vandalized living room in shock and disbelief. Sam righted a lamp and switched it on.
“Why would anyone do such a thing?” She clenched her hands into small fists. “This was my home.”
He did not miss her use of the past tense, but he decided not to comment on it.
“The question is, what was he looking for?” he said gently.
“Obviously, he was searching for that damn lab book or something that would tell him who has it.” She walked slowly through the wreckage and looked into the bedroom. “Dear heaven, he even went through my lingerie drawer. How dare he do such a thing?”
“We can call the cops,” Sam said. “But I doubt if it will do any good. To them, it will be just another low-priority burglary. Not even that, because I doubt if anything is actually missing.”
“Because what he wanted wasn’t here for him to find. You’re right. The cops will put this down as vandalism. They’ll ask me if I know anyone who has a reason to be mad at me. How am I going to explain that some crazy guy with a paranormal ability to commit murder is after a forty-year-old lab notebook that’s encrypted in a psychic code? They’ll think I’m crazy. Then they’ll find out about my time at the Summerlight Academy, and they’ll know for sure that I’m a nut.”
Sam walked to the sliding glass door and examined it. “Still locked from the inside. That means he got in through the front door. That settles it, this building definitely needs a major security upgrade.”
“I can’t stand it,” Abby said. There was a strange tremor in her voice.
Sam turned quickly and went back to her. “Can’t stand what?”
“I can’t stand the fact that he was here, inside my home,” Abby said. “I’ll never be able to sleep here again. I’m going to list the condo with a real-estate agent tomorrow.” She looked around. “No, wait, I’ll have to get a professional cleaning firm in here first. I’ll tell them to gather up everything and haul it to a charity.”
“Hey, hey, hey, take it easy.” He drew her into his arms and tried to think of something soothing to say. “It’ll be okay. The bastard ripped up a few cushions and
made a mess, but there’s not a lot of serious damage.”
“He touched my stuff.” Abby was stiff with tension. She seemed unaware of his arms around her. “He was in my bedroom. My bathroom. My kitchen.”
“I know. He’ll pay for it, I promise you.”
“This isn’t about money, damn it.”
He winced. “Bad choice of words. I didn’t mean that he would pay financially. I meant I’ll get him for you.”
Abby took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Okay, then. Thank you.” She stepped out of his arms and went toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Don’t you want to take some fresh clothes with you?”
“No.” She did not look back. “I won’t be able to wear anything that was here when he broke in. I won’t be able to use any of the dishes or the silverware or the sheets or my new towels ever again. He contaminated everything.”
She was already outside, punching the button for the elevator. Sam switched off the lamp. He stood for a moment, contemplating the violated space.
“Whoever you are, you just bought yourself a one-way ticket to nowhere,” he said to the shadows. “You should never have touched her stuff.”
35
ABBY WALKED OUT OF THE ELEVATOR INTO THE DIMLY LIT dungeon that was the underground parking garage. Her emotions were in turmoil. All she could think about was getting into the car and putting as much distance as possible between herself and her violated home. No, not my home, not anymore. Anger burned so hot within her that she did not register the ghostly prickle of awareness on the back of her neck until it was too late.
By the time she realized there was something wrong with the atmosphere in the garage, Sam’s powerful hand was clamping tightly around her upper arm. She turned her head to look at him.
“What—?” she began.
“Quiet,” Sam said, directly into her ear.
He drew her swiftly behind a massive SUV that was parked in the corner. The gray walls of the garage formed a barricade on two sides. The big vehicle provided additional cover.
Ominous energy whispered in the shadows. Abby was suddenly chilled to the bone. Parking garages were always unnerving at night, and in spite of the condo’s security measures, this one was no exception. Footsteps echoed eerily. There were too many dark spaces between the parked cars. She always walked through the gray concrete underworld as quickly as possible, keys in hand, all senses on high alert. But tonight she had been distracted.
The garage was far too quiet. There were no footsteps or voices, but her intuition warned her that she and Sam were not alone. Someone else waited in the shadows. Sam released her. She watched him take his pistol and a small chunk of silvery quartz that looked like a crystal mirror out from under his jacket. She wondered what the quartz was for but decided this was not the time to ask questions. There was the stillness of the hunter about Sam now. He was very focused, very intent. Very dangerous.
She did not know what to expect, a threat or a command from an armed gunman, perhaps. But there was only a strange, unnatural silence that seemed to deepen by the second. It was wrong. The pale glow of the fluorescent fixtures overhead was growing fainter. The garage was taking on a weird, dreamlike quality.
“Go hot,” Sam ordered softly. “All the way.”
She was already on edge, all of her senses, normal and paranormal, flaring in alarm, but she had made no effort to focus them. The problem with concentrating psychic energy for a prolonged period of time was that the exercise had a downside. The unpleasant jitters and, ultimately, exhaustion that followed a heavy burn were the least of her concerns. She could deal with those. What scared the daylights out of her in that moment was that the garage was starting to resemble the dreamscape of the Grady Hastings nightmare. It was bad enough to wake up and find herself standing beside her bed. What if pushing her talent too hard plunged her permanently into the dream?
Sensing her hesitation, Sam gave her an impatient glance.
“Do it,” he ordered.
The garage was undergoing a bizarre transformation. The space around them was assuming an increasingly unreal aspect, as if it was sliding into another dimension. The rows of cars grew longer, stretching away into infinity. The concrete columns morphed into Möbius strips.
“Is it just me or is this starting to look like a bad dream?” she whispered.
“Looks that way to me, too.”
She took comfort from that news. She wasn’t in this alone. She wanted to explain the reason for her reluctance to follow orders, but this did not seem to be the time or place for an extended conversation. She had hired him as a consultant for situations like this. There was no point employing high-grade talent if you didn’t follow up on the recommendations. Cautiously, she elevated her senses into the red zone.
Sure enough, the otherworldly distortion faded significantly as her para-senses took over. But the garage did not return to what passed for normal. When she was in the zone like this, she was able to perceive light from beyond the visible range of the spectrum. The scene was now illuminated in the radiance of ultralight.
In this eerily lit environment, human auras could be more easily perceived. The hot energy flaring in the shadows between two parked cars confirmed what she had already sensed. Someone waited in the darkness.
The senses-dazzling energy exploded out of nowhere. It was as if someone had lobbed a paranormal grenade directly in front of the SUV that protected them. Abby instinctively shut her eyes, but that did little to reduce the terrible glare. The explosion of searing ultralight affected her para-senses far more than it did her normal vision.
“Don’t waste your time and energy trying to fight it, Coppersmith.”The dark voice came out of the shadows. It was masculine but strangely distorted. “My little flash-bang is crystal-powered. It generates more energy than any human can. It will soon overwhelm your senses. My advice is to shut down your talent before you burn out.”
“Too late with the flash-bang gadget,” Sam said. “I’ve already got the fix on it.”
“It won’t do you any good. But go ahead and try to overcome it if you like. When you’re satisfied that the device is stronger than you are, we can get down to business. Assuming you’re still awake, that is. I’m sure you are aware of the downside of a serious psi-burn.”
“I’ll try to stay up late tonight,” Sam said.
Abby sensed another rush of hot energy in his aura and knew that he had done something with the mirrored quartz. She realized that he was pushing an enormous amount of energy through the stone.
There was a reverberating clang as an object struck the concrete floor. The ultrawhite-hot glare that had filled the space abruptly winked out of existence. When her dazzled senses cleared, Abby realized that the garage had returned to normal.
“Shit.” The epithet was accompanied by a harsh gasp of pain.
The stranger’s voice was no longer distorted. It was, however, clearly annoyed. “You’re a real son of a bitch, Coppersmith. How the hell did you do that?”
“A tuned crystal can generate more steady-state energy than a person, but it takes a human mind to activate it. I didn’t take the fix on your flash-bang device. I took it on you.” There was a short pause before Sam added politely, “I got it while you were chatting about the cutting-edge wonderfulness of your gadget.”
“Fortunately, I brought backup.”
“A real gun?” Sam said. “Good thinking.”
“I assume you have one, too?”
“What do you think?”
“That you’ve got one.” There was resignation and irritation in the stranger’s voice. “You destroyed my flash-bang. It was a prototype, the first and so far the only version that actually worked.”
“PEC technology?”
“Sure. Do you have any idea how long it will take me to produce another? It requires months to grow a single crystal large enough to power the damn thing, and that’s assuming nothing goes wrong in the process. You
know how delicate para-crystals are.”
“What kind of seed crystal did you use?” Sam asked.
“I might give you that information if you tell me what you’re using to power that weapon you brought to the party.”
It dawned on Abby that the conversation had veered off in the wrong direction.
“For Pete’s sake,” she hissed. “This is no time to get into a technical discussion.”