Illusion Town (23 page)

The DZ Delivery Service crew disappeared into the fog.

Hannah looked at Elias.

“You used your ring to take down one of these men, didn't you?” she asked.

“Like I said, I've been on a steep learning curve with this crystal ever since you located it for me. I didn't know what it could do until my intuition told me to try to generate some energy through it tonight.”

“So, it's a weapon of some kind?”

“It's power, Hannah. Power can be used in a lot of different ways. But yes, it looks like in this case it can be used as a psychic weapon.”

The flash of knowing—the sense that they were closing in on the answers—shivered through Elias's para-senses with such force, his physical senses reacted. His ring heated a little and his hand jerked ever so slightly, just enough to send a few drops of coffee over the rim of the delicate china cup.

“What the hell?” he said very softly.

“Elias?” Hannah looked at him, alarm in her eyes. “Everything okay?”

The spilled coffee wasn't the most awkward part about his reaction. His talent had flashed for a couple of beats and Hannah had sensed it. He knew Maxwell Smith and Detective Jensen had picked up some of the vibes, too.

“We're close,” Elias said. “I can feel it.”

“How close?” Jensen asked.

He was in his forties, with a sturdy, stocky build, thinning hair, and cop eyes. He also had some talent, enough that Elias could sense it in his energy field. Probably a hunter. They were naturals for police work. They also made very good criminals. The skill set required for success in both professions was virtually identical. The chief difference between the two professions was a sense of right and wrong, a conscience.

It wasn't entirely clear which career path Jensen had chosen. Maybe he had started out as an idealistic officer of the law, determined to serve and protect. But somewhere along the line he had seen a little too much of the worst of human nature. Or maybe he didn't like knowing that he was a professional law enforcement officer in a city that was run by a consortium of powerful casino magnates who considered Illusion Town their personal fiefdom. That had to make for some difficult moments in police work. Whatever the case, Elias was pretty sure that Jensen was not a glass-half-full kind of guy. But he seemed to be a good cop.

The call from Smith had come just as Hannah had opened Visions for the day. Elias, under Virgil's supervision, had been repairing a broken display cabinet. Hannah had locked up the shop immediately and they had driven to the Amber Palace, where Detective Jensen had been waiting to brief them.

Now they were gathered in Smith's private office located on the executive-suite floor of the casino. On the way down the hall from the reception lobby Elias had glimpsed
the usual array of corporate management departments—Accounting, Human Resources, Marketing, and all the rest of the divisions associated with any big business enterprise.

There had also been an impressive amount of state-of-the-art security and communications equipment. Screen after screen displayed live video feeds from the countless cameras scattered throughout the hotel and casino.

But Smith's office was surprisingly old-fashioned. It looked more like a wealthy man's private study.
Like my father's study,
Elias thought.

Smith glanced at the drops of coffee splashed across the papers spread out on his gleaming desk.

“Don't worry about the spill,” he said. “No harm done.” He turned back to Jensen. “You were saying, Detective?”

“Right,” Jensen continued. “The motorcycle gang. The two perps who attacked Miss West and Mr. Coppersmith last night do belong to that gang of bikers called the Soldiers of Fortune. Used to be known as the Emerald Ruin Riders, a small-time operation that was into the usual biker-gang businesses, mostly drugs and prostitution. The guy at the top was old-school and smart—at least smart enough to stay out of this town.”

Hannah looked at him. “I take it the situation has changed?”

“Six months ago the leader of the Riders suffered a heart attack brought on by an overdose of a new street drug,” Jensen said. “He collapsed and died.”

“Can we assume the overdose was not accidental?” Elias asked.

Jensen snorted softly. “Let's just say that everyone I
know in law enforcement is going on that assumption. For a while there was some vague hope that without a strongman at the top the Riders organization would disintegrate. But that's not what happened. Someone stepped into the power vacuum. There's a new guy in charge, Felix Cordas, a small-time career criminal who rode with the gang for the past year. He appears to have developed illusions of grandeur.”

“A new name for the gang and a new business model—is that it?” Elias asked.

“Now, that's interesting,” Smith said. He lounged in his chair and put his fingertips together. “How do you change up a biker-gang business model?”

“By diversifying,” Elias said. He looked at Jensen. “The Soldiers of Fortune are hiring out as mercenaries.”

“That's what it looks like,” Jensen said.

Hannah looked at him. “Who hired the SOF to grab me?”

“Unfortunately, the two we interrogated don't know much about the client who commissioned the
mission
, as they called it,” Jensen said. “They were just following orders and the orders were to get you out of the picture, Mr. Coppersmith, and pick up Ms. West. But I'm almost positive that the person who contracted with the SOF for the kidnapping is either local or has a good local connection.”

Elias looked at him. “Because the intel on Hannah that they used to track her was so good?”

Jensen shrugged. “They were operating in the Dark Zone. You've spent some time there. You know what it's like.”

“A maze,” Elias said. “But we know how they kept tabs on Hannah. There was a tracer frequency on one of the crystals in her necklace. I neutralized it after your people arrested the two bikers last night.”

“Huh.” Jensen gave Hannah's necklace a curious look. Then he turned back to Elias. “A tracking crystal would explain how our unknown perp was able to find Miss West but what made him target her in the first place? Let's face it: no offense to the lady, but she's not exactly a major player in the antiquities market.”

“We've been working on that problem,” Elias said. He met Hannah's eyes across the vast desk. “We need to talk to the one person in this thing who has been there all along; the one who knows all about your para-psych profile.”

“Grady?” she said. “He's not on my list of favorite people but I really can't see him hiring a bunch of bikers to kidnap me. Grady Barnett is all about becoming famous in the para-psych world.”

“How did Barnett find you?” Elias asked.

“He didn't,” she said. “I found him. I needed a comprehensive para-psych profile. He was local and convenient and cheap so I hired him to test me.”

“Why did you choose him?”

“It's not like there are a lot of qualified para-psych researchers who specialize in my kind of talent and who are also affordable,” she said.

“Barnett gave you a deal, didn't he?” Elias asked gently.

“Yes,” she said.

“How did you know he was both qualified and inexpensive?” Elias asked.

Comprehension lit her eyes. “Oh, crap.”

Smith and Jensen looked at her.

“What are we missing here, Hannah?” Smith asked.

She drew a deep breath. “Professor Paxton Wilcox, the genealogist I hired to research my family tree sent me to Grady. Wilcox said Grady was an expert who was qualified to prepare a good para-psych profile on a dreamlight talent and he also happened to be local and affordable.”

Smith looked troubled. “You must have seen Wilcox's prints at some point, my dear. Was he the intruder?”

“That's just it,” Hannah said. “I've never actually met Wilcox—not in person. He doesn't live here in town—at least I didn't think so. All my communication with him has been online. According to his website, his office is in Resonance.”

“I've got a contact on the Resonance force,” Jensen said. “I'll give her a call and ask her to pick up this Dr. Wilcox for questioning.”

“Forget it,” Elias said. “Wilcox may have an address in Resonance but he won't be there. I think you're right, Detective. He's somewhere here in town.”

Smith's brows rose. “Why would he take the risk if he can track her from afar?”

“Because he's an obsessive collector and he's very close to getting what he wants,” Hannah said. “Elias is right. He's somewhere nearby. He won't be able to stay away, not now.”

“Got any idea where to start looking?” Jensen asked. “It's easy to hide under a fake identity in this town.”

Elias heard his phone ping. He set his cup down on the
desk and took the device out of the pocket of his jacket. He smiled when he saw the familiar code on the screen.

“We may have a starting point,” he said. “Grady Barnett.”

“What makes you think he can lead us to Wilcox?” Jensen asked.

“I asked Coppersmith Security to run a background check on Barnett.” Elias opened the report and read through the summary. “Here we go. Grady Barnett was once a rising star in the para-psych department at the University of Resonance. But he was fired after he was caught falsifying some of the data in two of his papers that were published in a major journal. He maintained his innocence but the university let him go. He left Resonance and set up his own lab here in Illusion Town.”

“On his website, Paxton Wilcox claims that he did some consulting work for the University of Resonance's antiquities department,” Hannah said.

“Maybe his website is not a complete work of fiction,” Elias said. “They say if you're going to tell a lie, try to use as much of the truth as possible. Less chance you'll trip yourself up that way.”

Mr. Smith tapped his fingers together twice. “It appears that there may, indeed, be a connection between Paxton Wilcox and Grady Barnett.”

Jensen rocked on his heels a little. “I can have Barnett picked up for questioning but I won't be able to hold him for long.”

Smith gave him a benign smile. “I'm certain we can find charges, should they be needed, Detective.”

Jensen grunted. He did not look happy but he did not protest.

“I think Hannah and I might get more out of him if we pay a call on him ourselves,” Elias said.

Hannah smiled grimly. “Oh, yeah.”

The office of the Barnett Research Institute was housed in a gloomy Colonial-era building at the edge of the Dark Zone. The neighborhood was poised on the precarious knife-edge between shabby-but-respectable and going-to-seed. The neighboring businesses consisted of a lawyer who specialized in slip-and-fall work, a palm reader, a tawdry gentleman's club, and an all-night convenience store. It was common knowledge that the Hot Rez Grocery survived by selling cheap liquor out the front door and assorted drug-laced snacks via the alley door.

“Gosh,” Elias said. “What was your first clue that you might not be dealing with a high-end dreamlight research lab?”

“Hey, the Barnett Research Institute came highly recommended,” she said.

“Yeah, by Paxton Wilcox, the guy who's trying to steal your big find.”

“Okay, I get the point.” She shifted Virgil to her left arm and started to rez the intercom. She hesitated. “Do you really think that Wilcox referred me to Grady because he knew he could bribe Grady to give him confidential information about me?”

“You said you never got your complete file.”

“Grady insists that was because I walked out before it was completed.”

“What do you want to bet Wilcox did get your file?”

“That bastard,” Hannah said.

“Which one?”

Hannah rezzed the intercom button.

“The Barnett Research Institute,” Kelsey announced in a liquid accent.

“Hannah West to see Grady,” Hannah said. “Tell him it's urgent.”

“What is this about, Miss West?” Kelsey asked, her tone plunging several degrees.

“You can tell Grady I want to talk about the details of that job he offered to broker for me.”

“There's someone with you,” Kelsey said. “I can see him on the camera.”

“My husband,” Hannah said.

“You've got that little rat with you, too.”

“Virgil is not a rat, you dumb—”

A scratchy sound on the intercom interrupted her. Grady's voice came through the speaker.

“Hannah? Is that you? About time. Come on up. I think
there's still time to salvage the deal. The collector is desperate. I guarantee you that you won't regret taking this commission. Like I said, you can name your own price.”

There was a click as the door unlocked.

Virgil growled.

“What did you say, Miss West?” Kelsey asked sharply. “Is there a problem with the door?”

“No problem, Kelsey.”

Hannah pushed the door open and walked into the tiny, dimly lit lobby. Automatically she kicked up her talent the way she always did when she entered a space. There were two hundred years of psi-prints layered on the floor but the older ones had faded into a murky sea of energy. Only the more recent tracks were easily distinguishable. She could see Kelsey's and Grady's but there were no other new ones.

“Evidently business has not been brisk,” she said, speaking over her shoulder to Elias. “The only new prints are Kelsey's and Grady's.”

“That doesn't mean Barnett and Wilcox aren't in this together,” Elias said.

“And possibly the lovely Kelsey, too,” Hannah said grimly.

“Why do I have the feeling that you two really don't like each other very much?” Elias said.

“You must be psychic.”

Halfway up the stairs, Virgil made a low rumbling sound and opened all four eyes. He wasn't sleeked out but it was clear he was not happy about the visit to the Barnett Research Institute.

“Don't worry,” Hannah said. “We're not spending the night this time.”

The stairs were old. They creaked. Like the vast majority of the First Generation structures, the building was designed primarily to be functional. After the Curtain had closed the colonists had been focused on survival. There had been little time or energy to spare on such frivolous things as architectural adornment. And the Barnett Research Institute had not put much money into remodeling.

At the top of the stairs Virgil wriggled free of Hannah's arm and made his way up onto her shoulder. He growled again.

“I'm not looking forward to seeing Grady and Kelsey again myself,” she assured him. “But this is important.”

“Maybe he's trying to tell us something,” Elias said. “Let me go first.”

She glanced back and saw that he had his flamer in his hand.

“I really don't think that's necessary,” she said.

“It makes an impression.”

He motioned for her to move to the side so that he could go past her. There was no point arguing. Besides, it would be interesting to see the expressions on Kelsey's and Grady's faces when they saw the flamer.

She paused on the landing.

“Grady's office is to the left,” she said. “Down that hallway.”

“Stay here while I check out the hallway and the office.” Elias moved cautiously around the corner.

“Hannah?” Grady's voice sounded from inside his
office. “Is that you? Coppersmith? What in green hell? Put that damn flamer away. There's no need for violence. I just want to chat with Hannah. This is a business matter, nothing more.”

A woman's high-pitched scream reverberated through the building. Hannah winced.

“Are you crazy?” Kelsey yelped. “What do you think you're doing? It's illegal to carry a flamer aboveground.”

“Must have slipped my mind,” Elias said. “Hannah, it's okay. There's no one else here, just a couple of lab rats.”

Hannah kicked up her talent and went around the corner.

She froze.

Hot psi-prints burned on the old floorboards of the hallway. They came from the far end of the corridor. The man who had left them had entered the building through the alley door and used the back stairs to climb to the second floor. That was why she hadn't sensed them in the front hall or on the main stairs.

The dreamlight currents were shot through with a dark, disturbing tension. She had seen similar prints before—on the white quilt she had been forced to discard.

She could feel Virgil's claws digging into her shoulder. He was in full attack mode now. Elias was standing in the doorway of Grady's office. He had not put the flamer away but he held it alongside his leg, pointing toward the floor.

“Hannah?” he asked. “What is it?”

“The man who ruined my new quilt and trashed my shop,” she said. “He was here. And quite recently.”