After Dark (13 page)

“I want your help. And I'm willing to bargain for it. I know why you are here in Cadence. My people told me about your missing nephew. I may be able to assist you.”

Tonight was turning out to be one big surprise after another, Emmett thought. There was nothing he could do but go with the flow. “Before we talk about doing any kind of deal, you'd better tell me what you want from me.”

Mercer nodded slowly and sipped his brandy. After a moment he set the glass aside. He propped his elbows on the arms of the heavy chair and steepled his fingers.

“As I said, I am preparing to step down. But I intend to do so in an orderly manner, one that will leave the Guild on the right course for the future.”

“In other words,” Emmett said, “you want to handpick your successor.”

“Precisely. I have worked for years to create a strong organization that can take care of its own. To a large extent, I have achieved my goals. All members in good standing can be assured of an excellent pay scale and a safety net of benefits for themselves and their families.”

“So long as they follow orders, don't ask any questions, and don't cross you,” Emmett said.

“I have always rewarded loyalty well.”

“And crushed anyone who stood up to you or questioned your decisions. You're a real old-fashioned kind of guy, Mercer.”

“I will admit that in the past you and I have differed on the subject of how an organization such as the Guild should be run.”

“You could say that. Your approach is about seventy years out of date.”

“It is true that I have honored tradition during my tenure as chief of the Cadence Guild.”

Emmett grunted again. Hard to argue that one.

“It may interest you to know, however,” Mercer continued, “that I have concluded it is time for the Cadence Guild to change.”

“I'll believe that when I see it.”

“I intend for Cadence to follow the lead of the Resonance Guild,” Mercer said steadily. “I want to see it restructured and modernized along the same lines.”

Emmett searched his face. “You're serious, aren't you?”

“Entirely serious. But sudden shifts cannot be effected overnight. Furthermore, they must be accompanied by strong leadership. I shall begin the process of change this year, with Tamara's help.”

“You mean her Guild Foundation work?”

“It's a start, and she is very committed to her charities. Her Foundation will go far toward helping to change the image of the Guild here in Cadence. But the task of restructuring the organization itself cannot be completed in the few months during which I will remain as head of it. Therefore, I must make arrangements to, as you say, handpick my successor.”

A sudden dark suspicion sparked. Emmett folded his arms across his chest and leaned one shoulder against the mantel. “Got someone in mind for the job?”

“Yes, of course.” Mercer smiled humorlessly. “You.”

Emmett exhaled slowly. “I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, Mercer, but I think you may have accidentally gotten fried the last time you summoned a ghost.”

“I realize my proposal is coming as something of a shock. But surely you can see why I want you to consider it. That's all I'm asking at the moment. There's no rush. We've got a year to make plans. Plenty of time to work out the details.”

“There's nothing to work out. I'm giving you my answer right now. I don't want the job. I've gone into the private sector, Mercer. I'm just a businessman these days.”

Mercer unlocked his hands and leaned forward. His fierce eyes glowed with energy and determination. “Listen to me, son—”

“I am not your son,” Emmett repeated through his teeth.

“Sorry. Slip of the tongue.”

The hell it was, Emmett thought. They were both aware of the gossip and rumors that had circulated for years. He had no intention of going down that road tonight. Not with Mercer Wyatt.

“As I was saying,” Mercer continued, “I want to leave the Guild in good hands. Hands that can steer it on a new, modern course. You are the best possible person to do that.”

“No.”

“You're the one who single-handedly restructured the Resonance Guild when you took charge. You're the one who established the new ways, turned it into a business, made it respectable. I want you to do the same for the Cadence Guild.”

“In case you haven't heard, I'm out of Guild politics. I'm a business consultant now.”

“That is precisely what I want,” Mercer said seriously. “A business consultant who is uniquely qualified to help transform the Cadence Guild into a respected business enterprise.”

“Forget it, Mercer. I don't want any part of your plan. I wish you luck with it, but I don't want to be involved.”

“I see.” Mercer sat back in his chair. He did not look defeated; he looked more like a man who was content to bide his time. “We'll leave that for the moment, then. Let's move on to other matters.”

Emmett came away from the mantel. He walked to the window and looked out over the lights of the city below. “Do you really know something about my nephew, Mercer? Or was that just a lure to get me here tonight so that you could try to talk me into taking over the Guild?”

“I'll be honest with you. I have no direct knowledge of young Quinn's whereabouts. But my sources tell me that he followed a young woman here to Cadence. True?”

“Yes.”

“The young lady apparently disappeared, and your nephew, who, I understand, is a dissonance-energy para-rez, vanished shortly thereafter, according to my information.”

Emmett looked out at the brooding, moonlit ruins of the Dead City. “Your information is good.”

“There are some advantages to having been in my position as head of the Cadence Guild for so long,” Mercer said dryly. “I've had plenty of time to set up reliable information networks both inside and outside the organization.”

Emmett turned slowly to face him. “What do you know?”

“I know that Quinn's lady friend is not the first young person to disappear here in Cadence in recent weeks,” Mercer went on. “No one has taken much notice of the fact because none of the missing persons was underage and none appears to have had much in the way of concerned family.”

“Until now.”

“Until now,” Mercer agreed. “In addition, there has been no indication of foul play.”

“How many have turned up missing?”

“I can't be certain. You'd be amazed at how many young people disappear every year. Had no idea myself until I started looking into it. Most of them wind up on the streets or in Curtain cults. Some go to another city. No one seems to notice.”

“Why did you suddenly decide to take notice?”

“Because when I heard that you were in town looking for your nephew, I made a few inquiries. I learned that some of the young people who have disappeared in recent weeks have been dissonance-energy para-rezes. Untrained ghost-hunters who were in the process of applying to the Guild. They never appeared for basic training and indoctrination. My first assumption was that someone had enticed them into a gang or cult or an unlicensed excavation team. The Guild takes a dim view of outsiders using ghost-hunters for illegal purposes.”

“Bad for the public image,” Emmett said dryly.

“Yes. This sort of thing has occurred occasionally in the past. It's been relatively easy to put a stop to it. But this time there are complications.”

“Tried going to the police?” Emmett suggested mildly.

Mercer gave him a disgusted look. “Of course not. If I did that, the media would get wind of it in no time. I won't have the papers running headlines declaring that the Guild can no longer police itself. Not on my watch, by God.”

“Right.” Mainstreaming the Cadence Guild was not going to be easy, Emmett thought. Not with attitudes like this at the top.

“As I was saying,” Mercer continued, “I have concluded that you and I might be able to work together.”

“You mean you're willing to give me access to the resources of the Guild to help me look for Quinn?”

Mercer closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them there was a bleak rage in his gaze. “I only wish it were that simple. I am sorry to tell you that the resources of the Guild cannot be relied upon at the moment.”

Emmett watched him for a long time as the full implications of that statement sank in. “Maybe you'd better explain.”

“I have reason to believe that there is a traitor in my organization,” Mercer said wearily. “Someone close to me.”

Emmett said nothing. He knew what it must have cost Mercer to acknowledge such a thing.

“I had to go outside my own Guild just to discover what little information I managed to learn about the situation involving your nephew,” Mercer said. “Someone I trust is plotting against me, Emmett.”

“Every Guild chief has enemies. Fact of life.”

“Of course. And I have dealt with many in the past. But this is different. More insidious. I have been unable to isolate the traitor. It could be anyone on my administrative staff.
Anyone.”

“Someone who knows about your plans for the future of the Cadence Guild and doesn't like them?”

“I believe so. But it may be more than that. It may be personal. I simply don't know at this point. I only know I can no longer trust my staff.”

“What does that have to do with luring young, untrained hunters off the street?”

“It has occurred to me that this traitor, whoever he is, may be trying to create his own private army of hunters who will take orders directly from him and who will be loyal only to him.”

“Set up a rival organization? Hell, Mercer, that's a little over the top, isn't it?”

“Think about it,” Mercer insisted. “If this bastard wishes to go against me, he will need a power base. That means he will need his own trained ghost-hunters. What better way to do that than to grab young ones who have not yet been indoctrinated into the Guild?”

Emmett whistled soundlessly. “Are you sure you're not sliding into paranoia here, Mercer?”

“I'm being careful. There's a difference.”

There was a difference, Emmett reflected, but it was not always easy to see it when you were a Guild boss.

Mercer Wyatt was not a stupid man, he reminded himself, even if he was seriously lovestruck at the moment. Wyatt was smart, powerful, and, above all, he was a survivor. If his instincts told him he had a traitor on his staff, chances were good that he was right.

Emmett studied the pattern of the carpet beneath his feet for a while. Then he looked up. “What all this boils down to is you want me to get rid of your so-called traitor for you.”

“I won't deny that I need your assistance in this unpleasant affair, since I can no longer trust my personal staff. The way I see it, our interests are aligned, son. You want to find your nephew. I want the person who may have caused him to disappear.”

Emmett ignored the
son
reference this time. He had other priorities now. He contemplated the city lights for several long seconds while he weighed the pros and cons of getting more closely involved with Mercer Wyatt.

The truth was, he had very little choice. Quinn's safety came first.

“What information can you give me?” he said at last.

“Not much, I admit. As I said, I had to go outside the Guild to get even that. On your own, you will no doubt stumble onto the few facts I've got. But at least I can save you some time. And time may be of the essence here.”

Emmett looked at him over his shoulder. “I'm listening.”

Mercer leaned forward in his chair, his expression intense. “The day your nephew disappeared, he paid a visit to a youth shelter in the Old Quarter near the east wall.”

“What's the name of the place?” Emmett asked swiftly.

“It's called the Transverse Wave. It was founded years ago by the Anderson Ames Trust. It's a place to start looking, Emmett, but I want your word that you will be discreet.”

“Why the hell do you care if I'm discreet?”

Mercer sighed. “Two years ago Anderson Ames died. When the lawyers finally unraveled the trust, which took several months, it was discovered to be nearly bankrupt. The Transverse Wave Youth Shelter was in danger of closing last year, but at the last minute new funding was found for it. Just in time to enable it to remain open.”

“Oh, shit.” He had the whole picture now, Emmett realized. “You're going to tell me that the Guild Foundation stepped in and is now supporting the Transverse Wave, aren't you? The reason you want me to be discreet is because the shelter is one of Tamara's new pet charity projects.”

Mercer narrowed his eyes. He suddenly looked like the ruthless specter-cat that he was. “Tamara knows nothing of my suspicions. I want this mess cleaned up without any publicity that might embarrass her or the Guild Foundation. Is that understood?”

L
YDIA CLUTCHED HER
purse very tightly on her knees and smiled blandly through the window at the guard as Emmett drove out through the front gates of the Wyatt mansion.

Silence welled up inside the car. It thickened rapidly.

“If I had to rate the evening on a scale of faculty social events at the university, I would have to say it scored a two,” she said finally.

“That high?” Emmett asked.

“Somewhat less tolerable than the monthly sherry hour but not quite as bad as the weekly coffee hour in the Department of Para-archaeology.”

“Personally, I'm giving it a one,” Emmett said.

She glanced at him. “You mean it was worse than your engagement party where your fiancée decided she was in love with Mercer Wyatt instead of you?”

“So you heard about that, huh?” Emmett downshifted for a curve. “Sounds like you and Tamara got friendly in the salon.”

“Actually, the subject of your engagement came up right at the beginning, and conversation sort of fizzled after that. I spent a lot of time admiring the Wyatt collection of Harmonic antiquities. Fortunately, I can talk about relics for hours on end. By the time you came out of the library with Mercer, Tamara was half asleep from boredom.”

“Tamara has a short attention span if the subject is not one of great personal interest to her. Take our engagement, for example.”

“Something tells me she can be very focused if the subject
is
one of great personal interest to her.” Lydia paused. “She wears amber. Is it for real or just for looks?”

“It's for real. She's a strong dissonance-energy para-rez.”

“I see.” It figured, Lydia thought. Statistically speaking, most ghost-hunters were male, but she had worked with more than one female hunter in the catacombs. “Well, if she was engaged to you, I'd say she must have been extremely interested. Probably liked the thought of becoming the wife of the Resonance Guild boss.”

A cold smile came and went at the corners of Emmett's mouth. “You did pick up a lot of trivia over tea.”

She whipped around in the seat, anger sweeping away her control.
“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Couple of reasons.” He sounded far too casual. “First, given your general opinion of ghost-hunters, I didn't see any reason to bring up Guild politics. Second, I didn't think it had any direct bearing on the situation.”

She stared at him. “I don't believe this. You're an ex-Guild boss and you don't think it has any
bearing
on our business arrangements?”

“Does whatever happened to you during those forty-eight hours you spent underground six months ago have any bearing on them?”

“That's entirely different.”

“Each of us has a past. Neither of us can change it. But we've both moved on. I'm no longer in the Guild.”

“The heck you aren't. Once a guildman, always a guildman.”

“Some people say that once a tangler's been badly fried in a trap, she's never the same again.”

“Stop trying to pretend there's a parallel here,” she shot back.

“What do you want to do, Lydia? Do you want out of the contract?”

“No, damn it, you're not going to get rid of me that easily.”

“Then we have to find a way to work together.”

“How can we do that when you keep springing these surprises on me?” she demanded furiously.

“Just because we have a contract doesn't mean we have to tell each other every damn personal thing that ever happened to us, does it?”

“The fact that you're a Guild boss is not exactly a private, personal matter.”

“I'm an ex-Guild boss.”

“How come I never heard of you?”

“Can you name the heads of the Frequency or Crystal City Guilds?”

“Well…no.” She frowned. “I admit, I've never paid much attention to Guild politics outside of Cadence. I had heard something to the effect that the Resonance Guild had instituted some changes, but—”

“But you were skeptical, so you didn't take any notice. Is that it?”

“It wasn't that so much as that I didn't think those changes would have any influence on the Cadence Guild. At least not while Mercer Wyatt is in charge.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you probably wouldn't have remembered my name, even if you had followed the news.” Emmett guided the Slider through an intersection. “I kept a low profile while I held the position.”

“I see.”

There was another brittle silence. Lydia fumed.

She had a contract with a Guild boss.

Make that
ex
-Guild boss.

A freelance consultant had to be flexible, she thought. She was no longer safely ensconced in academia, with its rigid hierarchy and social rules, both written and unwritten. If she was going to establish herself as a private consultant, she would have to take a few risks.

“Why did you decide to step down?” she asked gruffly.

“I ran the Resonance Guild for six years. It took me that long to get it restructured organizationally. When I was finished, I wanted out of the job. So I turned down the board's offer to renew my contract, and I made sure they appointed Daniel instead.”

“Who's Daniel?”

“My younger brother.”

“So you handpicked your successor?”

“Daniel and I think alike when it comes to Guild politics. He'll keep the organization moving forward in the new direction. In a few more years no one will even remember the old days. The Resonance Guild will be just one more major corporation in the city.”

Lydia hesitated, but morbid curiosity got the better of her. “When did you tell Tamara that you were planning to step down?”

“A few days before our engagement party. Since she did not immediately give me back my ring, I assumed she understood and supported my decision.”

“Probably thought she could talk you into changing your mind.”

“We had a few conversations on the subject,” Emmett admitted. “I didn't change my mind.”

He eased the Slider into the parking lot of Lydia's apartment complex. “In the six years I spent reorganizing the Resonance Guild, Tamara was my one major miscalculation.”

“No kidding.”

He brought the car to a halt and shut off the engine. For a moment he just sat there behind the wheel, saying nothing. Lydia got the feeling that he was thinking. Hard.

“You figure I should have known right from the start that it was the idea of being married to the head of the Guild, not me personally, that she loved?” he asked neutrally.

“Hey, don't feel bad.” Lydia gripped the handle and opened the door. “I wasn't any smarter about Ryan. He was only interested in me as long as I was moving up in the para-archaeology department and could write papers that got our names in print.”

“You wrote the papers?” Emmett inquired.

“Ryan's a good P-A, but he's not as good as I am,” she said evenly. “After my Lost Weekend, it was obvious that I was not going to be real useful to him as a coauthor, at least not for a long time. But it all worked out very nicely. He got promoted, based on our last paper together. Now, as head of the department, he gets his name on every paper that is published by the people under him. They do all the research, he gets the credit. Pretty neat, huh?”

She got out of the car, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around her purse. Emmett climbed out from the driver's seat, closed and locked the door, and came around the vehicle to join her. Together they walked toward the stairwell.

“I could have clued you in on Ryan Kelso if I'd been around when you were dating him,” Emmett offered.

“I could have told you that Tamara is a shrewd, ambitious woman who won't let anyone or anything get in her way. She's into power. It attracts her.”

Emmett de-rezzed the security door. “You can tell that after spending one evening in her company?”

She cleared her throat and strove for an academic tone. “In para-psychological terms, she no doubt connects sex with power and vice versa.”

“In other words, when I resigned as head of the Guild, I no longer looked quite as sexy. Is that it?”

Lydia hugged her purse as they started up the stairwell. “Power is always interesting, but it comes in two different forms, the personal, internal kind and the kind that depends on the trappings.”

“The trappings?”

“You know—office, position, social standing. That sort of thing. Some people are only attracted to that type of power. I'd say Tamara is in that crowd.”

“You may be right.” Emmett climbed the stairs beside her. “I know she sure as hell lost interest in me after she found out that I intended to become a business consultant.”

“Live and learn,” Lydia said.

“So do we still have a contract?”

“Yes,” Lydia said, “we still have a contract.”

They reached the fifth floor together in silence and turned to walk along the corridor to her front door.

Lydia looked down at the purse she had clutched to her bosom. “I've got to find a safe place for this until I decide what to do with it.”

“Why don't you put it in a real bank safe-deposit vault tomorrow morning?”

“Good idea. But I can't leave it there indefinitely. This is an incredible find, Emmett. It needs to be properly studied.”

He gave her a wicked, knowing grin. “Hey, I've got an idea. You can turn that dreamstone jar over to the university and let Ryan Kelso and his staff write it up for the
Journal of Para-archaeology.”

“Over my dead body,” she muttered. Then she thought about Chester and winced. “Guess that wasn't really a good metaphor under the circumstances.”

His grin vanished. “Guess not.”

“I can't think clearly about the problem of what to do with the jar tonight. I do believe I've had a little too much high-rez input this evening. My nerves aren't accustomed to so much excitement.”

“Excitement?”

“Yeah, you know, excitement. This artifact, dinner with the head of the Cadence Guild, the discovery that my first consulting client is the ex-CEO of the Resonance Guild. It takes its toll, you know.”

“I see,” he said. “Excitement.”

“I live a quiet life, for the most part, these days. Oh, now and again I come across dead bodies. And there are the occasional moments of hilarity when I get the odd ghost burning holes in my bedroom wall. But that's about it.”

“Sounds quiet, all right.” He inserted the key into the lock.

She gave him a sharp glance. “By the way, I almost forgot to ask—did you learn anything useful about your nephew from Wyatt?”

“Maybe.”

“That's all you can say? Maybe?”

“He gave me a possible lead,” Emmett said casually as he opened the door. “I'll check it out tomorrow.”

Lydia stepped into the foyer. “And just what did Boss Wyatt want in exchange for this so-called lead?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have an extremely cynical streak in your nature?”

“What I've got is a good working understanding of how Guild politics work.”

He looked at her, saying nothing.

“At least I know how they work here in Cadence,” she amended. “Mercer Wyatt doesn't do anything for anyone out of the goodness of his heart.”

Emmett shrugged. He reached down to pick up Fuzz, who was drifting around at his feet. “We made a deal.”

Lydia froze. “What kind of deal?”

“It doesn't concern you,” he said quietly. “It's Guild business.”

“Damn it, don't you dare pull that ‘Guild business' routine with me. I'm your consultant in this thing, remember? I have a right to know what's going on.”

“My arrangement with Wyatt falls outside the terms of our contract.”

“I'm not buying that. Not for one minute.”

“That's your problem.” He went into the kitchen and took the lid off the pretzel jar. “Because that's all I'm selling.”

She opened her mouth to continue the argument, but the blinking light on the telephone answering machine caught her attention.

She crossed the room and pushed the button.

“This is Bartholomew Greeley of Greeley's Antiques calling about the item we discussed when you visited my shop. I have received word regarding its present where abouts. I am told that the collector who bought it will be willing to sell for the right price. I will be happy to act as a go-between and to accept the finder's fee you mentioned. Please meet me at my shop tomorrow morning. I will open early to conduct the negotiations. Shall we say ten-ish?

Triumph flashed through Lydia. “Sounds like I've found your cabinet for you, Emmett.”

Emmett glanced at the answering machine. Then he gave her a level look. “If that's true, then your job is done, isn't it? That will simplify things. Tomorrow we'll collect the cabinet and I'll give you your check. Our contract will be legally terminated and you'll be out of this.”

Her triumph evaporated in a heartbeat. He was right. Once the cabinet of curiosities was back in his hands, their contract would be fulfilled. There was nothing she could do about it.

Why the hell did she want to do anything about it, anyway? He was an ex-Guild boss, for crying out loud. He did social dinners with Mercer Wyatt. Worse yet, he did deals with Mercer Wyatt. His ex-fiancée was married to the boss of the Cadence Guild. Things couldn't get much messier.

Yes, sir, she wanted this contract to end just as quickly as possible. With the fees Emmett would pay her she could move into a new apartment. With his name on her list of satisfied clients, she would be off to a stunning start in her new career as a consultant. Life was looking up.

So why wasn't she thrilled?

She flashed him a brilliant smile. “Looks like I'll be getting my sofa back tomorrow night.”