by Jayne Castle
“That won’t happen.”
“For sure you’ll never work underground again, at least not with a legitimate team.” He flung out one hand. “Hell, you’re lucky to get a job in this two-bit carnival house of horrors.”
Rage flooded through her. She felt pain in her palm and realized that her nails were biting into her skin. “If you don’t remove your hand, I’m going to yell. Maybe I can get you arrested. How do you think the folks back in the lab would react to that? For that matter, how would your new client take it? Something tells me that if he’s after dreamstone, he’d prefer a little discretion from his consultant.”
Ryan’s face mottled with fury. For a few seconds she thought she would have to make good on her threat. But he must have read the determination in her eyes.
With a disgusted oath he dropped his hand. “Listen to me, Lydia. You don’t know what you’re getting into here. I tell you, London is dangerous. There’s something else you should know. He’s got enemies who are also dangerous.”
That gave her pause. “Enemies?”
“My client tells me that not everyone in the Resonance Guild likes the changes he made in the organization there.” Ryan lowered his voice. “What’s more, a couple of the people who stood in his way wound up dead in a catacomb. A lot of people think London arranged for their unfortunate accidents.”
“That’s absurd. If your client told you that, he really is deep-fried. You’ll have to excuse me, Ryan.” She made a show of glancing at her watch. “I’m going home.”
“Damn it, haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? You can’t trust London. He’s using you.”
“Maybe I haven’t made my position clear,” Lydia said evenly. “As things stand now, I trust London more than I trust you.”
“You should have told me that all it took to buy your trust was a good fuck. Hell, I’d have screwed you myself.”
She would not let the bastard make her lose her self-control, she vowed silently. She was trembling with anger, but she kept her voice cool.
“You did ask, as I recall,” she said very evenly. “Maybe you’ve forgotten that I declined. I think I had to wash my hair that night.”
His hand came up. She watched in disbelief, wondering if he intended to strike her. Energy hummed silently in the gallery. Not her own. Her amber was still only skin temperature on her wrist. The invisible vibrations weren’t coming from Ryan, either. This was a ghost-hunter frequency.
With a visible effort Ryan lowered his hand. He seemed oblivious to the energy in the air, though. He was too tense, too emotionally involved in the argument to notice it.
“You’re in a very serious situation, Lydia. I can help you. Call me when you come to your senses. It’s not just my future riding on this. Yours is also on the line.”
He turned on his heel and strode off down the gallery.
Lydia watched him walk away. Energy continued to vibrate gently, protectively, in the air around her.
She turned slowly and watched Emmett step out of the deep shadows cast by a large green quartz pillar.
“How long were you standing there?” she asked.
“Long enough.”
“You heard? About his new client and all the rest?”
“I heard.”
“Emmett, this means that someone else really is after the dreamstone. Whoever he is, he thinks that’s the reason you’re here in Cadence.”
“Looks that way.” Emmett glanced down the gallery to where Ryan had disappeared. “Thought I was going to have to fry him.”
“Fry who? You mean Ryan?” She was briefly distracted by that. “Could you? This far from the Dead City?”
Emmett did not answer. Instead he took her arm. “Let’s go. We’ve got an appointment.”
“With whom?”
“Miss Helen Vickers.”
“Who’s she?”
“The good lady in charge of the day-to-day operations of the Transverse Wave Youth Shelter. I’ll give you the rundown on our cover story on the way.”
“Hey, I’ve got an idea. I could be your lawyer and you could be some rich, eccentric guy looking to give away lots of money.”
“Too late,” Emmett said. “When I called Miss Vickers, I told her that I would be bringing my wife with me. By the way, our last name is Carstairs.”
21
AS THINGS STAND now, I trust London more than I trust you.
Okay, so it fell a little short of a ringing endorsement, Emmett thought as he followed Lydia into the offices of the Transverse Wave Youth Shelter. She could have been a touch more eloquent and maybe a shade more dramatic. I would trust London with my life, my fortune, and my sacred honor, would have done nicely. Or maybe, I would trust London to the ends of the universe. But he would take what he could get.
Probably should have gone ahead and fried Ryan while he had the chance, though.
The youth shelter’s business office was located next door to the main facility. From where he stood, Emmett could see a handful of young people who looked to be in their late teens loitering on the sidewalk in front of the shelter. One of them was idly dribbling a frequency ball.
This section of the Old Quarter of Cadence, situated adjacent to the east wall of the Dead City, had clearly never felt the brush of gentrification. It was a mix of shabby chic, bohemian charm, and genuine urban blight. From the window of the Transverse Wave office, Emmett could see missions catering to the down-and-out hunkering cheek by jowl with pawnshops and seedy taverns. Boarded-up, dilapidated buildings occupied the spaces in between. Panhandlers and prostitutes brushed shoulders on the narrow sidewalks. It was easy to see why Lydia hadn’t wanted Zane hanging out in this neighborhood.
Towering above the low, squat structures built by the first human residents of Cadence was the massive green quartz wall of the Dead City. The building that housed the Transverse Wave and its associated offices was one of the oldest in the quarter. It had been constructed in the very shadow of the wall.
Ambient psi energy leaked freely through small, often invisible cracks in the quartz. Emmett ignored the frissons that flickered through his para-senses. He knew Lydia felt them too. The little currents and eddies of energy were part of the atmosphere in the Old Quarters of the ancient cities. Tourists loved the creepy sensations.
He glanced around the dingy, cramped office as the door closed behind him. Two battered metal desks piled high with papers and folders, a couple of file cabinets, a telephone, and some scarred wooden chairs completed the decor. Just the sort of furnishings one would expect to see in the storefront charity run on a shoestring. A narrow hall led to another office and a closed door that looked like a storage closet.
An earnest, somewhat harried-looking woman who appeared to be in her early forties sat behind the front desk. She wore no makeup. Her graying hair was done in a simple, no-nonsense bun. Emmett did not see any amber accessories.
She glanced up expectantly. “Mr. and Mrs. Carstairs?”
Lydia held out her hand. “You must be Miss Vickers. Emmett and I are delighted to meet you.”
Emmett was amused by her rich, plummy tones. Her academic accent, he figured.
“Call me Helen.” Helen Vickers indicated two of the chairs. “Please sit down. Can I get you some tea?”
Emmett opened his mouth to say no.
“Thank you,” Lydia murmured. “That would be very nice.”
Emmett glanced at her and decided to follow her lead. “I’d appreciate that.”
“I was delighted to get your phone call this afternoon, Mr. Carstairs.” Helen got to her feet to pour tea from a pot that sat on the other desk. “May I ask how you heard about the work that we do here at the Transverse Wave Youth Shelter?”
“A friend of ours mentioned your facility,” Emmett said easily. “He knew that we were very interested in giving money to an organization that focused on young people.”
“That’s wonderful.” Helen glowed with enthusiasm as she handed them the cups. “You’ve co
me to the right place. We here at Transverse Wave have dedicated ourselves to helping young people who have nowhere else to turn.”
Lydia sipped tea. “My husband and I have been advised by our accountant to investigate a number of different charities that work with young people before we make our decision. He warned us that there are a number of less than ethical charitable organizations around.”
“Unfortunately that is all too true. But we here at the Wave are very proud of the fact that the vast majority of our donations go straight back into the work of the shelter. Only a tiny amount is used for overhead and fund-raising. Let me give you a brochure and our latest annual report.”
She went to a file cabinet, opened a drawer, and plucked out a folder. She handed it to Emmett.
He opened the annual report and flipped to the organizational information at the back He studied the list of donors while he listened to Lydia gently question Helen Vickers.
“Can you tell us a little about the history of the Transverse Wave, Helen?” Lydia asked. “We understand it’s been in existence for a number of years.”
“Over thirty years,” Helen assured her. “It was established by Anderson Ames, a wealthy industrialist who came from an impoverished background. He knew the perils of the street firsthand and wanted to set up a foundation that would help young people avoid them.”
“Is Mr. Ames still involved in the work of the shelter?” Lydia asked innocently.
“I’m sorry to say that he died two years ago,” Helen said. “He had hoped that the shelter would go on without him, but the lawyers discovered irregularities in the trust’s finances. Things looked bleak until—”
The front door opened at that moment. A tall, well-built man dressed in gray sweats and a pair of sports shoes strode into the office. He carried a frequency ball under one arm. A film of perspiration gleamed on his forehead.
Helen Vickers smiled. “This is Bob Matthews. He volunteers as our recreational director. Bob, meet Mr. and Mrs. Carstairs. They’re considering a donation to the shelter.”
“Hey, that’s great!” Bob grabbed Emmett’s hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “If there’s one thing we need more of around here, it’s donors. Always glad to meet one.”
Emmett nodded and retrieved his hand. “It looks like you do good work.”
Bob chuckled. “We try. Mind if I give you my sales pitch for some new gym equipment?”
“Another time, Bob,” Helen said firmly. “Mr. and Mrs. Carstairs are just gathering information today.”
“Got it.” Bob held up a hand. “Helen knows me too well. I tend to get a little carried away when it comes to getting stuff for my kids.”
“How long have you been volunteering at the shelter?” Emmett asked.
“Let’s see, what is it now, Helen? Six? Eight months?”
“Eight, I think.” Helen smiled. “And I don’t know what we’d do without you.” She looked at Emmett. “Bob has really rezzed up our athletic program. Physical activity is so important for the kids. It helps work off some of their frustration and anger.”
“I understand.” Lydia rose, cup in hand, and sauntered toward a large calendar that hung on the wall near the closet.
Emmett knew she was up to something.
“Looks like you have a very active schedule here at the shelter,” Lydia said, surveying the little squares around each date of the calendar.
Helen glowed. “Thanks in large part to Bob.”
Bob grinned. “Don’t you believe it. I do what I can, but Helen is the one who keeps this place running day in and day out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I just stopped to pick up some keys from my office. Sorry to interrupt.”
“No problem,” Emmett said.
Bob went down the hall to the small office, opened the door, and disappeared inside.
Lydia looked at Emmett. “Did you have any more questions, dear?”
“Just one.” He closed the annual report and glanced at Helen. “I see the Guild is listed as one of your major donors.”
“It is indeed,” Helen said. “And I can tell you in all honesty that if it weren’t for the Cadence Guild stepping in last year when we were going through a bad patch financially, the shelter would have had to close its doors. We have Mercer Wyatt’s new wife to thank for our continued existence. A very gracious and caring lady.”
“Really?” Lydia mused.
“Indeed, just as we were staring financial disaster in the face, the new Mrs. Wyatt launched the Cadence Guild Foundation. We were one of the first charities chosen to receive grants. The Guild money was a godsend.”
“All right, let’s have it,” Lydia said twenty minutes later as she got in on the passenger side of the Slider. “What are you thinking about the Guild’s involvement in the Transverse Wave Shelter?”
“I don’t know what to think yet,” Emmett said. “I’m still gathering data. I called my office in Resonance City this morning. I’m having someone there do what the administrators of the Cadence Guild Foundation did.”
“Look into the shelter’s background?”
“Right.” He eased the Slider away from the curb. “A duplication of effort, but I couldn’t ask for the Foundation’s report without raising questions that I’m not prepared to answer yet.”
“Speaking of the Guild Foundation, doesn’t Tamara Wyatt’s interest in social responsibility strike you as a little hard to swallow?”
“No. Tamara was always very big on enhancing the Guild’s social image.”
“I see.”
He smiled slightly. “I realize you don’t view that as an achievable goal. There are, however, some of us who think the Guilds can take their place in society as respectable businesses.”
“Next thing you know, some Guild boss will be running for mayor.”
“Maybe we should get back to the subject at hand,” Emmett said.
“Maybe we should.” She hesitated, wondering how far she could go. She decided to take the plunge. “Level with me, Emmett. All personal issues aside, do you think Tamara is involved in this?”
He kept his attention on the narrow, crowded street. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility. Wyatt told me that he started making plans to retire shortly after he and Tamara got married.”
“Must have come as a shock to Tamara.”
“I think it would be safe to assume that she was probably not thrilled.”
“Possibly even stunned,” Lydia said dryly. “Just think about it. First she dumps you because she finds out that you’re planning to resign your position as head of the Resonance Guild and she won’t get to be Mrs. Guild Boss if she goes through with the marriage. Then she sweeps the Cadence Guild boss off his feet, marries him, and he promptly announces that he intends to retire too. What’s a girl gonna do?”
“An interesting question,” Emmett said. “But knowing Tamara, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that she came up with an idea or two.”
“I still don’t see what you saw in her.”
“Funny, I still can’t figure out what you saw in Kelso,” Emmett retaliated. “What were you doing back there at the shelter when you were looking at the calendar on the office wall?”
“I thought I caught a trace of rez energy.”
He frowned. “The office is right next to the Old Wall. There’s stray rez energy leaking all over the place around here.”
“If I’m not mistaken, this was illusion trap energy,” she said softly.
That got his attention. “Are you sure?”
“No. It was faint.” She looked out the window toward the towering green quartz walls.
He thought about the little snare she had discovered in the dreamstone jar. “See anything suspicious in the office when you looked around?”
“No, nothing. It must have been a stray leak. Could have come up through the foundation and the floor-boards, I suppose. Some of the experts, including Ryan, think that we haven’t mapped more than twenty percent of the catacombs here in Cadence, let a
lone cleared them of traps. They extend for miles underground.”
“Speaking of the professor,” Emmett said, “I think we’d better see if we can identify his client.”
“Probably just some private collector who heard rumors about dreamstone. Happens all the time.”
“How often do private collectors follow dreamstone rumors that lead to you?”
She winced. “Okay, I see what you mean. Whoever approached Ryan not only knows that I’m involved in this, he’s linked you to it too.”
“Which means that he may be a hell of a lot more than just a private collector who heard some rumors.”
“I agree. And I have an idea how we can find out about Ryan and his new client.”
“How?”
“I worked at the university for quite a while. I know a lot of people on the staff. A few of them owe me. I’ll make some calls when we get back to my place.”
Emmett went into the kitchen and opened the box that contained the pizza he had picked up on the way back to the apartment. He listened to Lydia’s end of the phone call as he took two plates out of the cupboard.
“No, I am not spying on Ryan. For God’s sake, Sid, you think I’m jealous because he’s dating Suzanne? That’s ridiculous. This is a professional inquiry.”
There was a short pause. Emmett took the lid off the pretzel jar. Fuzz tumbled through the doorway and looked up at him with wide blue eyes.
“Why do I want to know if he’s got any after-work appointments this week?” Lydia said. “I’ll tell you why. I think Kelso is trying to steal a client out from under me.”
Emmett fed a pretzel to Fuzz.
“No, I don’t want you to do anything that could cost you your job, Sid. I just want to know if Ryan has anything on his calendar this week that looks like a non-academic meeting.”
Emmett picked up the plates of pizza and went to lounge in the kitchen doorway. On the other side of the small room, Lydia was ensconced on the sofa, feet propped on the coffee table.
