Midnight Crystal (28 page)

She noticed that most of the staff had already departed for the day. There were only a handful of people still at their desks. They greeted her enthusiastically. A couple offered Gibson cookies, which he graciously accepted. Marlowe saw copies of the
Herald
and the
Examiner
at several workstations.

“Who knew that academics read the tabloid press?” she murmured to Gibson.

They followed Eleanor down into a belowground chamber lined with mag-steel walls. Rows of display cases filled the room. An array of artifacts were arranged inside the cases. Many of the relics were from the Old World. But Arcane had begun acquiring rare and unusual objects with paranormal provenances immediately after arriving on Harmony.

Given the nature of the New World and the long-vanished civilization that had once colonized it, there were a lot of psi-infused artifacts around. Many had been literally lying on the ground. The result was that there was a wide variety of alien antiquities and oddities in the collection.

Eleanor led the way deeper underground to another steel-lined chamber. But this room was fitted with a bank-vault-style door embedded in one wall. The curator opened the lock and pulled the heavy door open.

The familiar green light of the catacombs spilled out of the jagged tear in the quartz. Before going into the tunnels, Marlowe opened her senses and looked at the layers of dreamprints on the floor. Nothing had changed since her first visit to the scene.

Inside the catacombs, Eleanor powered up a locater, clicked in the coded coordinates, and led the way to the series of chambers that had been converted into storage rooms for the museum’s vast collection.

They stopped in front of the vaulted room in which the fake lamp had been stored. With her talent tuned to the max, Marlowe took another look around.

There was nothing fresh in the way of clues. Not that she had expected to uncover any startling new evidence that would change her conclusions, she thought. She had told herself that she needed to check one more time to be absolutely certain, however.

“Thanks, Eleanor,” she said. “That will do for now.”

“That’s it?” Eleanor’s brows rose. “You’re finished?”

“That’s all I need to see today,” Marlowe said.

“I know you’re a dreamlight profiler, not a chaos-theory talent,” Eleanor said. “Did you find a new clue?”

“Not a new one. Just one I should have spotted the first time. I know who is responsible for the theft of the lamp.”

Me,
she thought.
I gave him the opening, let him get close. So what does the new head of J&J do when the person who is responsible for the crime turns out to be the new head of J&J?

GIBSON CHATTERED A LITTLE, UNCHARACTERISTICALLY agitated when Marlowe put him back into the saddlebag. She knew that he had sensed her despondent mood.

“I sure don’t feel like playing Guild boss mistress at that reception tonight,” she told him. “I think I need to go for a ride, see if I can clear my thoughts. I’ve got some decisions to make.”

She glanced at her watch. It was not yet five. She had time for a run along the Old River Road.

Gibson watched her from the leather bag, grumbling.

She pulled on her gloves, fastened her helmet, climbed aboard the bike, and drove out of the alley. A deep twilight was settling on the Quarter. The amber lights of the old-fashioned streetlamps glowed in the mist. The ruins were starting to brighten.

She drove through the Colonial section of the city and turned onto the narrow, two-lane road that paralleled the winding course of the mighty Frequency River. To her left the tree-studded hillside rose gently away from the edge of the pavement.

At one time the old road had been a main thorough-fare, but the new highway on the far side of the river had lured away the commercial and commuter traffic. Old River Road was rarely used now.

She opened the throttle and gave herself over to the exhilaration that flooded her senses whenever she was on the bike. It had been like this since her childhood. She had started out riding dirt bikes as a kid with her father and brothers. When they had realized that her interest was not a passing fancy, that she was truly hooked on the thrill of riding, they had made sure she learned how to manage a bike in all kinds of weather conditions and on all types of terrain.

Out here on the open road, running free, she did not have to think about her responsibilities and obligations or the consequences of screwing up. Out here, for a time, she could forget how her talent complicated her life.

There was, she reflected, only one other activity that provided a sensation that equaled and even surpassed this intoxicating experience: making love with Adam.

Hastily she corrected herself. Having sex with Adam was the other experience that matched being out here on the bike. There was most certainly a bond of sorts between them, she thought, and plenty of sizzling physical attraction. But the connection she felt could be explained by the high drama they had experienced together in the past few days.

She had known him for such a short time. It was impossible that she could have fallen in love. Now that the underworld had been saved, she and Adam would return to their normal lives. Things would change. Things always changed in relationships, especially her relationships. And they never changed for the better.

Meanwhile, she had a case to close.

She leaned into another curve. When she checked the rearview mirror she saw Gibson. He had his head poking out of the bag. The wind plastered his fur back against his body, providing a rare glimpse of his nose and tufted ears. He was enjoying himself enormously, as usual, and his delight was contagious. Dust bunnies had it right, she thought. They were always in the moment.

In spite of everything, she laughed.

And in that instant she saw the truth in all its shattering clarity, as though it had been written in hot dreamlight. She was in love with Adam.

For a few seconds her spirits took wing and flew on the thrilling currents of that acknowledgment.
She was in love with Adam
.

She went into another turn. When she came out of it, reality struck hard. She was in love with Adam. Fine. Now what?

She glanced into the rearview mirror again, looking for Gibson’s reflection. He was right where he was supposed to be, his nose in the wind. But there was something else in the mirror, as well: a big black Oscillator 600. The huge SUV was accelerating rapidly out of the curve—too rapidly.

She didn’t need her Jones intuition to tell her that something very dangerous was going on. But on the off chance that she was overreacting, she drove a little faster. The Oscillator responded by picking up speed, closing the distance.

The next curve was coming up fast. Marlowe leaned into it and juiced the throttle on the far side. Behind her, tires shrieked. The Oscillator was all muscle, a vehicle hyped on steroids. It was designed to send a message of power. It certainly suited the image and ego of the stereotypical high-ranking Guild man.

But, while the 600 could attain high speeds on the straightaway, it was not made for the kind of nimble maneuvering the curves on Old River Road demanded. At its heart, the Oscillator was still, in all, a truck.

When she checked the mirror again, she saw that she had gained some distance.

The reprieve did not last long. The Oscillator came out of the curve at full throttle, engine roaring. She thought about the road ahead. She had driven this way countless times over the years. She knew every inch of it. There was only one more bend coming up. After that, the pavement ran straight for nearly a mile along the river. Dream was not built for racing on the flat. There was a very good chance she would not be able to outrun the Oscillator. One swipe from the big car’s fender, and she and the bike would be in the river. The treacherous currents would do the rest.

That left only one option.

“Hang on,” Marlowe shouted to Gibson. She doubted that he could hear her above the howling wind, let alone comprehend the words. But he was very good at sensing her moods.

She went into the next turn a little too fast, wondering if the Oscillator would be tempted to do the same. But the SUV was more cautious this time, slowing a little. The driver must have realized he could catch up with her on the far side of the curve. He saw no reason to risk his neck.

Just the executive decision she had hoped he would make, she thought. She had bought herself a few seconds of breathing room. She braked, did a quick slowdown, and turned the bike toward the bank that sloped up into the woods. She downshifted, goosed the throttle, crossed the oncoming lane, and jammed Dream up the hillside.

The bike responded eagerly, bucking and growling. Dirt, small rocks, and dried leaves churned beneath the tires. Marlowe thought she heard Gibson chortling.

She frequently went off-road with the Raleigh-Stark. It was the reason Dream was endowed with a stiffer suspension than was customary for a bike that was used only on the highway, why the tires had an aggressive tread designed for a variety of conditions.

She wrestled the handlebars for control, drove the bike a short distance into the trees, and brought it to a shuddering halt.

Down below on the road she heard the Oscillator emerge from the turn, engine screaming. She looked back over her shoulder and watched the SUV charge down the straightaway at full throttle. The driver had not yet realized he’d lost his quarry.

She raised the faceplate of her helmet and anxiously checked the saddlebag.

“Gibson? Are you okay?”

Gibson chortled wildly and bounced up and down, intoxicated on dust bunny adrenaline.

There was a lot of adrenaline going through her, as well, she thought. Her heart was pounding, and her senses were on full alert but not in a good way.

“Okay, I’m glad you had fun, but don’t get the idea that we’re going to do this a lot,” she said. “I think I scared myself just now.”

She reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and took out her cell phone. Her hands were shaking. She had to concentrate hard to punch in Adam’s code.

He answered halfway through the first ring.

“Where the hell are you?” he said, his tone fierce. “Are you all right? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for nearly ten minutes.”

The savage, barely controlled urgency in his words caught her by surprise. “I’m out on the bike. The phone was in my jacket. Couldn’t hear it. What’s wrong?”

“You tell me.” But he sounded as if he was breathing a little easier now. “Sorry to jump at you through the phone. I’ve been a little edgy for the past half hour. A few minutes ago I got a feeling that you were in serious trouble, and I couldn’t shake it. Called your phone. When you didn’t answer, let’s just say I got a whole lot edgier.”

“Talk about your psychic intercept,” she said.

“There is no such thing,” he said automatically. “Hold on, are you telling me that something did happen? Where are you, anyway?”

“Old River Road. And, yes, something did happen. I think a big Oscillator 600 just tried to run me down.”

“Talk to me,” Adam said.

She gave him a brief version of events.

“I suppose it could have been a bad case of road rage,” she concluded. “Or maybe some idiot’s idea of a game. But given the official J&J policy regarding coincidences, I tend to think that someone was either trying to scare the daylights out of me or—”

“Or kill you.”

“What are you thinking, Adam?”

“That an Oscillator 600 is a classic Guild car. Got a whole fleet of them in the garage here at headquarters.”

“That did occur to me. But why would anyone in the organization come after me? Killing a Jones would be awfully stupid. It would guarantee a full-scale police investigation, to say nothing of what my family would do. The Joneses would tear Frequency apart to find the killer.”

“I don’t suppose you got a license plate?”

She thought back to the image of the vehicle in her mirror. “I admit I wasn’t paying a lot of attention, but I don’t think there was one.”

“Figures. How far out of town are you?”

“Not far. Maybe twenty minutes away from my condo. I was about to turn around and head home when the 600 started chasing me.”

“I’ll meet you at your place,” he said.

“You said you’d pick me up at eight. I haven’t forgotten.”

“No, I mean, I’ll meet you at your place as soon as you get back into town.”

She glanced at her watch. “But it’s only going on six.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“You’re that worried?”

“I’m that worried.”

“But why would anyone in the Guild go after me?”

“Think about it, Marlowe. What connects us?”

Understanding slammed through her. “We’ve both got people working on the crystal flashlights.”