by Jayne Castle
“They say it’s very accurate,” Jeff said earnestly. “Real cutting-edge psychic crime-scene investigation techniques.”
“I can’t believe we’re talking about a rez-screen program.” Cruz slid his pack off his shoulder, unzipped it, and shoved the relic inside. “Forget I even mentioned it and start looking for some indication that someone else was here.”
Jeff surveyed their foliage-choked surroundings. “That’s going to be a little tough. You know how this place eats evidence. Drop a gum wrapper on the ground, and the next day it’s gone.”
“Webber’s body is still in pretty good shape,” Cruz said. “The rain forest hasn’t turned him into compost yet. That means he must have died recently. If the killer got careless and dropped something, it will still be here.”
“Assuming there is a killer,” Lyra said.
Cruz looked at her with eyes that burned with a cold emerald fire. Energy seemed to shiver in the air around him.
“This was no accident,” he said quietly. “There was a killer. The spoor is still on the body. You can’t wash off the taint of murder with water.”
A chill of awareness slipped through her. He was fully rezzed, she thought, running on his talent.
Jeff studied Vincent. “Maybe the bunny can find some evidence for us the way he found the body.”
They all contemplated Vincent. He was still on the rim of the pool, busily fluffing his wet fur. The little red beret was soaking wet.
“I don’t think that will work,” Lyra said. She leaned down to remove the wet cap. “I’m pretty sure that he thought this was a game of fetch the relic. As far as he’s concerned, it’s finished.”
She squeezed the excess water out of the beret and pinned it to Vincent’s damp fur.
“Looks like we get to do this the old-fashioned way,” Cruz said. “We’ll establish a search grid and walk it shoulder to shoulder. Nobody moves out of visual range of the others. Understood?”
Jeff grinned at Lyra. “That means don’t go wandering off on your own.”
“Thanks,” Lyra said. “I did sort of wonder. All that technical jargon, you know. A girl gets confused.”
Cruz ignored her and started up the steep incline. “We’ll try the top of the falls first.”
“Why?” Jeff asked.
“Because regardless of where he killed Webber, the killer had to drop the body from that point in order to make the accident look real.”
“Sure,” Jeff said. “And maybe there was a struggle. That would be good.”
“Yes, it would,” Cruz agreed.
Lyra grabbed a trailing vine and used it to haul herself up the incline behind the men. “Why?”
“Because where there’s a struggle, you often find some evidence,” Jeff explained.
“Oh, right,” she said. “I knew that.”
“Except where there’s a lot of water and a lot of jungle,” he added grimly. “Talk about a great place to hide evidence and bodies.”
“We found Webber’s body,” she reminded him.
Cruz looked back over his shoulder. “That was because someone wanted us to find him.”
“How could the killer have known that we would find the jungle gate in the catacombs?” she asked. “Let alone conduct a search?”
“He must have assumed that I’d check out the murder scene with a PF team and pick up the psi trail,” Cruz said. “He knew that trail would dead end at the gate and that I’d figure it out from there. Once inside, it would have been hard to miss the waterfall. No offense, but we didn’t really need Vincent.”
“Don’t say that.” She looked at Vincent, who was already at the top of the falls, playing with a palm frond that dipped into the water. “He thinks he won the game.”
Cruz came to a halt at the edge of the falls and gave Vincent another considering look. “Are you sure you can’t convince him to play a new game?”
“Yeah,” Jeff said, scrambling up to stand beside him. “One that involves finding evidence of some kind.”
“I don’t know how to go about it,” she said. She watched Vincent bat the palm frond with his front paw. “It’s not like he’s telepathic or anything. He’s a dust bunny.”
“Forget it,” Cruz said. “Let’s start the sweep. We’ll stick to the area immediately around the perimeter of the falls.”
They moved out side by side, arm’s length apart. Vincent tumbled after them but showed no interest in the new game until they passed a small cave in the rocks. At that point he chortled to them and disappeared into the shadowed opening.
They stopped.
“Now, what?” Jeff asked.
“I don’t know,” Lyra said. “Maybe he spotted some small animal that passes for dust bunny prey.”
Vincent reappeared with a piece of foil in one paw. He looked quite pleased with himself.
“He’s into bling,” Lyra explained.
“Will he give it to you?” Cruz asked.
“Sure.” She picked up Vincent. “Can I see that?” she asked.
Vincent let her take the scrap of foil. She handed it to Cruz.
“It’s a wrapper,” he said. “The kind used to package candy and snack bars.”
Jeff whistled softly. “Someone dropped it. The killer?”
“Yes.” Cruz smiled his cold smile of satisfaction. He rubbed the wrapper between his thumb and forefinger. “His psi is all over it.”
“Could be a piece of foil from something Webber ate,” Jeff said. “If there was a struggle, the killer’s psi could have ended up on the snack bar or anything else in the vicinity.”
Cruz moved to the edge of the rocky opening and crouched to study the interior. Then he reached inside and withdrew what looked like a plastic sack emblazoned with a familiar logo.
“That’s an AI rain poncho pouch,” Jeff said. “The rain gear is standard issue in every AI pack.”
“Same psi traces,” Cruz said.
“Again, could have belonged to Webber,” Jeff said. “Maybe he got caught in a downpour, put on the poncho, and waited out the storm inside that cave. You know what it’s like when it rains in the jungle. You can’t move. Maybe he was wearing the rain poncho when the killer attacked.”
“On Psi Crime Investigation they make it clear that, although the courts are starting to admit testimony from psychics, it has to be backed up with hard evidence,” Lyra said.
Cruz gave her and Jeff a narrow-eyed look. “That does it; no more PCI for either of you. You want proof that the poncho and the snack bar wrapper didn’t belong to Webber? Fine. I’ll give you proof.”
Jeff frowned, curious. “How will you do that?”
“Watch and learn, Mr. Hotshot Psi Crime Investigator,” Cruz said.
He went back down the side of the falls to the body, removed Webber’s pack, and unzipped it. A few seconds later he pulled out an unused rain poncho still tucked neatly inside its plastic pouch. Next he went swiftly through the remaining contents of the pack. After a moment, he straightened.
“There aren’t any energy bars missing, either,” he announced.
“Oh, yeah,” Jeff said. “I should have thought of checking out the pack. Okay, it’s pretty clear that the killer left the pouch and the wrapper. Now we know something else about him.”
“He was carrying AI equipment, so he probably works for AI,” Lyra said.
“We know more than that.” Cruz started back toward the top of the falls. “He’s cutting his losses and getting rid of his partners. Cleaning up.”
Chapter 30
“ SOMETHING I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT,” CRUZ SAID.
“Just something?” Lyra settled down onto the lounger and took a sip of her wine. “Funny, I had the impression that you’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff lately. You know, finding the artifact, hunting a killer.”
They were sitting on her balcony, a bottle of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers on the small table between them. Vincent was on the railing, munching on a cracker. The night was ba
lmy and warm, and the great wall cast its eerie green glow over the Quarter.
“The particular stuff I’m thinking about is the way the gate of the amethyst chamber closed, trapping five people inside,” Cruz said.
“You’re back to wondering if it was something other than an accident?”
“I am.” He ate a cracker. “You said the gate could have been closed by either stray waves from a psi river or a storm. You also said that someone working certain nonstandard amber could have done it deliberately.”
“Right. In addition to amethyst, I’m pretty sure diamond or silver amber would do it. My grandfather told me that they have some distinctive properties. He said they could disrupt the currents generated by most of the other ambers. But both are extremely rare. I’ve never come across a single specimen of either in my work. So even if the killer could work one or the other, how would he get hold of a chunk to use on the gate?”
“I can think of one place. The vault at the lab.”
“Wow.” She raised her brows. “You’ve actually got some diamond and silver at the lab?”
“Sweetwaters and their employees have been collecting specimens and artifacts of rare amber for decades. Everything goes into the vault, but almost nothing comes out. It’s like the basement of a big museum in there. Things go into storage and get forgotten.”
“But presumably access to the vault is limited.”
“Sure.”
“Got a list?” she asked.
“It’s a short one.” Cruz drank some wine. “Felix Webber was right at the top.”
“Well, that fits. He was at the ruin when it closed.” She paused. “Assuming he could work diamond or silver.”
“If he was able to work it, he sure as hell kept the information to himself. It wasn’t in his file.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time someone with an unusual talent kept the data out of an employment file.”
“True.”
She considered for a moment. “Originally you thought that whoever triggered the gate did it to frame me.”
“That theory still fits. But I’m starting to wonder if there was an additional goal.”
“What?”
“Another murder. I have a feeling that one of the five people trapped inside that chamber was the real target.”
“You sound very sure of that,” she said.
“I am.”
“But how can you know something like that with such certainty?”
“The same way I know we were meant to be together.”
“Your talent?”
“Uh-huh.” He ate another cracker.
She pursed her lips. “You know, I can buy the idea that you have a talent for hunting bad guys. But this thing about the men in your family being able to know when the right woman comes along? Not so much.”
“You get used to it after a while.”
“Me, I’m going to sign up with a professional matchmaker.”
“Why bother? Just be a waste of money.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But now that I’m going to be getting this big check from Amber Inc. as my fee for opening the ruin, I can afford to experiment with a really high-end matchmaker.”
“This is all about making me suffer isn’t it?”
“No,” she said. “It’s about me being really, really careful the second time around.”
“Okay,” he said.
Chapter 31
CRUZ WAS AT HIS DESK WHEN JEFF STROLLED INTO THE office early the next morning.
“I’ve got Webber’s parapsych profile,” Jeff said. “There’s nothing in it about the doc being able to open jungle gates, just like there’s nothing in it about his ability to work unusual amber.”
“That doesn’t come as a shock.” Cruz closed the file he had been reading and took the folder Jeff held out to him.
Jeff dropped into a chair and stretched out his legs. “I don’t get it. If Webber was helping himself to relics from the lab vault, why didn’t we pick up on it?”
“Like I told Lyra, there’s fifty years’ worth of amber in that vault. Every drawer is crammed with relics and samples. No one would notice if a few items went missing now and then, especially if whoever took them knew how to bypass the security alarms.”
“Something Webber would know how to do,” Jeff said.
Cruz rocked back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. He contemplated the three paintings hanging on the wall across the room.
“Here’s what I think happened,” he said. “Webber had a nice little part-time racket going for himself. Probably teamed up with Fairstead and the third man a few years ago. They kept the thefts small, taking pieces no one would miss. But the amethyst relics from the ruin were different. Each was worth a fortune on the underground antiquities market. Got a hunch they had never before risked swiping something that valuable out of the vault.”
“Security was a hell of a lot tighter around the relics, too,” Jeff observed. “Unlike some of the other stuff housed in the vault, one of those artifacts would have been missed immediately. They needed to make it look like someone else had stolen the artifact. They picked the obvious suspect.”
“Lyra. But something went wrong the night of the theft. One of the lab techs must have discovered them. They had to kill him to keep him quiet.”
“They?” Jeff repeated.
“Webber and the third man.”
Jeff eyed the files spread out on the desk. “Do you have a name for this third guy?”
“I think so, yes.” Cruz picked up one of the files and handed it to him.
Jeff glanced at the name and whistled softly. “Well, this is sort of embarrassing. How did you figure it out?”
“Process of elimination. There were five people caught in the amethyst chamber the night the gate closed. I’m almost-certain Webber was trying to kill one of them.”
“So the Frequency PD was right? This is a falling-out-among-thieves scenario after all?”
“Feels like it. The problem for the police is that they haven’t got a clue where to start looking for the other two thieves. But we found one dead in the jungle.”
Jeff tapped the folder on the edge of the desk, looking thoughtful. “And this is the third guy. He looks good for it, all right.”
“Looks good for it?” Cruz repeated. He sighed. “You’ve really got to lay off PCI. It’s ruining your vocabulary.”
Jeff rose, an unusually determined expression on his face. “I’m getting into practice.”
“For what?”
Jeff started toward the door. “Guess I forgot to mention it, but I’m going to be handing in my resignation soon. I’m leaving AI Security.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“No joke.” Jeff opened the door and turned partway around. “I’m applying to the Federal Bureau of Psi Investigation.”
“The hell you are.”
“Thanks for your support, sir. I really appreciate it.”
Cruz exhaled slowly, reining in his impatience. “Come back here. Sit down. We’ll talk.”
“Some other time maybe.”
“Damn it, Jeff, Big Jake will have a fit. Not to mention your father and my brothers and everyone else in the clan. In this family we don’t take up careers in regular law enforcement.”
“No, we just work for people who can afford to pay for protection, and sometimes we do things that law enforcement can’t or won’t do.”
“Including occasional favors for the FBPI,” Cruz reminded him coldly.
“You know what that makes us? Mercenaries.”
“That’s ghost crap. This is a private security agency, but we’re not mercenaries, damn it. We don’t take money for that kind of work. Not anymore. Sweetwaters have rules. We’ve always had rules. What’s more, we’ve never worked for the bad guys, even when there was money on the table.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that much. Here’s the thing. I want to work for the little guy. You know, the folks who can’t afford hi
gh-end private protection.”
“That’s exactly what we do when we accept a contract from the FBPI.”
“It’s not the same thing,” Jeff insisted.
Cruz studied him for a long moment.
“How long have you been thinking about joining the FBPI?” he asked.
Jeff shrugged. “For about as long as I can remember. Ever since I was a kid.”
“But you’re just now making this career decision?”
“It’s a little tough to make a career decision in this family, unless the career path in question involves an Amber Inc. subsidiary.”
“So why now?”
“Why not now?” Jeff shot back.
“You need to give this a little more thought, Jeff.”
“Why bother? That won’t convince anyone in the family that it’s a good idea. I’ve wasted enough time as it is. I’m tired of being a bodyguard.”
“Is that what this is about? You want to move up? Hell, ambition isn’t a problem in this family, and you know it. In fact, it’s about time you showed some. There’s plenty of opportunity here at AI Security.”
“I’ve already made my decision. I’m not changing my mind. At least I’ve got one person on my side.”
“Yeah? Who?”
“Lyra.”
Jeff went out into the hall and shut the door with exquisite control.
Cruz looked at the closed door for a long time. After a while he got to his feet and went down the hall to the accounting department.
Chapter 32
SOME TIME LATER, CRUZ WAITED FOR HIS PREY IN A shadowed office. He sat, booted feet propped on the corner of the desk, and thought about the implications of Jeff’s unexpected outburst of rebellion. Lyra could not be blamed entirely, he decided, but the odds were excellent that she had served as catalyst and cheerleader.
Probably only the beginning. No doubt about it, when she became a member of the family, she was going to rattle the mag-steel barricades that had always encircled the close-knit Sweetwater clan.
Footsteps in the hall pulled him out of his reverie. The familiar rush of the hunt crackled through him.
