A Talent For The Invisible (v1.1) (14 page)

“I heard it was less than that.”

“Since I don’t, as Sandman, issue publicity releases, Jake, it’s hard for you to get completely accurate information.”

“Without it,” said Conger, “I still found you, Vince. Now we’ll go back up to Greater Los Angeles.”

After nibbling at one tablet held between two fingers, Worth shook his head. “I don’t believe so, Jake.”

“Don’t get the idea I won’t shoot if your people try anything.”

“I’m sure you would,” said Worth. “Mac told me about what happened earlier, Jake. I realize what you must feel.”

“Okay, fine. Then let’s get going.”

“Wait, my boy,” said Worth. “You’re going to let me go. You’re not going to bring in Sandman at all.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you let me go, my boy, I’ll bring the girl back to life.”

Conger was jogging along a strip of yellow sand. He was in California North, a few miles from the state capital of San Francisco, and the quiet morning Pacific was on his left. He put a hand into a pocket of his two-piece beachsuit, drew out a bottle of kelp pills.

From the direction of his rented houseboat a robot came trotting.

“Phone call for Mr. Conger, phone call for Mr. Conger.”

Conger slowed his pace, letting the robot catch up with him. A dozen gulls were spinning high overhead in the clear blue sky.

“Long distance from Manhattan,” the robot told him as it came near.

“Very important.”

When the robot was alongside him on his left Conger glanced at the phone screen built into its chest. “Good morning,” he said.

“It’s high noon back here,” Geer pointed out. “That’s why I’m trying to catch a bite of lunch while I straighten out this yoohoo Sandman business.” The boss had a hotdog-chocolate cake sandwich in one hand.

“I’m afraid the powers that be don’t quite understand your final report, Jake. When I say powers that be, I mean Lupoff and Thompson, who have apparently replaced both Sinkovec and Tiefenbacher in the upper echelons of our respected organization. I might add while I have your attention, more or less, that I myself do not fully understand what …” Conger thrust his foot between the legs of the phone robot. The mechanism toppled over, splashed face down in the surf. Conger jogged on.

Angelica smiled when he stepped onto the deck of the houseboat. She was wearing dark slacks and a high neck blouse which hid the small scar over her left breast. “Do your ten miles?”

“Twelve,” said Conger. He took a shaggy towel from the boat rail to wipe his face and neck.

“The real estate man was by a few minutes ago,” said the lovely dark girl. “With a complaint.”

“About his phone robot?” Conger sat near her on the smooth deck.

“Exactly. He says he found it down on the beach a half hour ago full of sand and salt water,” Angelica said. “When he turned it over a sour-faced man called him a yoohoo from the pixscreen. Was that Geer?”

“Uh huh.”

“He’s not happy?”

“He wasn’t during the small portion of his conversation I heard, no.”

“What do you think your status with the Wild Talent Division is,” she asked. “Now you’ve let Sandman go free?”

Conger smiled. “I figure I’ve joined the ranks of yoohoos,” he said. “I’m probably fired from WTD. I may even be blacklisted.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Nope,” he answered.

“I didn’t think so.”

“In awhile I’ll address myself to the problem of a new station in life.” Angelica smiled, touching his shoulder with one warm slender hand.

“I’m glad, Jake, you let Sandman talk you into making that deal.”

“If he hadn’t suggested it,” Conger told her, “I was going to.”

The End