by Jayne Castle
Flagg looked startled. "Webber closed that gate? That little bastard. I should have guessed. I didn't think he had the guts to pull a stunt like that."
"His big plan fell apart when I brought Lyra down into the jungle to open the gate. He had no way of knowing that I would go to her for help, let alone that she would actually agree to rescue anyone connected to Amber Inc."
"Webber was a fool."
"The three of you knew I was getting close. You must have been pretty damn desperate to hire not one but two pairs of lowlifes off the street to take me out. Two clumsy attempts. Two failures. The second time around, there was another man on the scene who used his talent to take me down. I'm assuming that was Webber working diamond amber again. That stuff has got some very weird properties."
"You're making this up as you go along," Flagg growled.
"In the end, after you discovered I had been in Fairstead's vault room, you realized the whole situation had become just too hot. You decided to pull the plug. You killed Fairstead and Webber and tried to stage the scene so that it looked like only the two of them were involved in the theft. You even tossed in the amethyst relic, just to make it look good. Nice touch, throwing it into the grotto pool. But it wasn't much of a risk. You were pretty sure it would be found in the course of a thorough search of the area."
"You can't prove I killed Webber or Fairstead or anyone else."
Cruz went behind the desk and picked up the backpack he had stashed there earlier.
"This is yours," he said. He set the pack on the desk. "I found it in your locker this afternoon."
"So what?"
"There's a poncho inside. It's still damp. There's no pouch, because you got careless and left it in the little cave above the waterfall in the jungle. One of the energy bars is missing, as well. You ate it while you waited out the rainstorm. I found the wrapper. You were still hot from the kill when you put on the poncho and ate the energy bar. Your psi was all over both."
"You can't prove anything with an empty plastic pouch and an energy bar wrapper. Psi evidence won't hold up in court unless there is corroborating physical evidence."
"Hell, everyone watches Psi Crime Investigation. Okay, you want proof? Let's talk about the money."
"What money?"
"All three of you—Webber, Fairstead, and yourself—left nice, neat money trails every time you sold an artifact. One of the folks down in Accounting got into your bank records and into Webber's an hour ago. The cops will find Fairstead's soon enough. Let's see, I've got motive, means, and I can put you at the scene of the crime." He thought about what he had just said. "You know, this is kind of fun. I think maybe I understand what Jeff sees in this whole law enforcement career path thing."
"Son of a bitch." Flagg yanked a pistol out of the pocket of his leather jacket. "Damned Sweetwaters. You always think you're the smartest guys in the room. I've got news for you. I ran that little amber skimming operation for over three years, and no one suspected a thing."
"You're right. What's more, you probably could have gotten away with it for a while longer if you hadn't tried to move that amethyst relic. That was stupid, Flagg. No other word for it. Just plain stupid."
"Shut up." Flagg walked to the table and picked up the pack. The nose of the pistol was leveled at Cruz's midsection. It never wavered. "You think I didn't plan for a worst-case scenario like this?"
He went swiftly across the room and pushed a lever that had been concealed in the wall. A section of paneling slid aside. Soft currents of alien psi whispered through the opening.
"You're going to disappear into the tunnels?" Cruz asked. "That's your big escape plan? Good luck with that."
"I'm going into the jungle. Everyone knows you can't track a man in the rain forest who doesn't want to be found. When I come back to the surface, I'll have a new identity, and I'll be in another city-state. But you won't have to worry about that, because you'll be dead."
"So you're the one who opened the gates," Cruz said. "I assumed it was Webber. Okay, that answers that question. Couple more before you disappear into the underworld. Where's the amber that Webber used to close the ruin entrance and generate those hallucinations?"
"You're so damned smart, figure it out for yourself."
"And why the hell did Webber stalk Lyra in the first place? Or was that your idea? Maybe you decided that if everyone, including Lyra herself, thought she was going crazy, it would make it easier to pin the crimes on her."
"I couldn't care less about your little tuner girlfriend. But I can tell you this much. Webber was furious with her because she wouldn't help him run his experiments. He was obsessed with those relics. I'd tell you to save your questions for him, but I guess that won't work, seeing as how he's dead. And now, so are you."
Cruz sensed the slight elevation of energy that accompanied the almost invisible tightening of Flagg's finger on the trigger. He sent out a wave of muffling psi fog, enveloping Flagg in a senses-disorienting haze.
Flagg screamed. He floundered wildly in the psychic mist, lost his balance, and sprawled on the floor. The pistol roared. The bullet smashed into the ceiling. He tried to get off another shot, but Cruz kicked the weapon out of his hand.
The door slammed open. Jeff and several people wearing Frequency PD badges charged into the room.
Cruz quickly shut off the hot energy he had been generating, afraid that the fog would sweep over the others, even though he had been using the increased focusing power of the obsidian to direct the currents only toward Flagg. There was another reason for caution. He did not want the police questioning the nature of his talent. As far as the world was concerned, he just had a strong affinity for amber. It was Sweetwater family policy to keep it that way.
But no one coming through the door seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. The cops surrounded Flagg. One of them pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
Jeff walked over to Cruz. "You okay, boss?"
"Sure." Cruz glanced down at his ring. "Did you feel anything when you came through the door?"
Jeff lowered his voice. "You mean that psi fog you generate? Nope."
"You know something? Lyra's special tuning service really works."
"Told you so. Get everything?"
Cruz reached inside his shirt and removed the recording device. "Every last word."
The cops had Flagg on his feet.
Cruz looked at him. "You were wrong."
"About what?" Flagg muttered.
"Nobody ever said Sweetwaters were always the smartest guys in the room. But we do tend to be lucky."
"I want a lawyer," Flagg said.
Chapter 33
LYRA BALANCED THE PAPER BAG FILLED WITH COFFEE and tea supplies in one arm and opened the back door of the gallery with her free hand. The first thing she noticed was that the lights were off. The second thing was that there was no illumination coming from the main sales room, either. Nancy had said that she was going to close early in order to set up for the private auction, but it was late afternoon, and the sun had gone down behind the green wall. The early twilight was descending rapidly on the Quarter.
There should have been lights.
"Nancy?" Lyra hovered in the doorway. A cold, prickling sensation slithered through her. The darkness in the back room seemed unnaturally heavy. "I brought the extra cream and coffee. I also threw in some more cookies, just in case."
Master Quinn appeared in the doorway that separated the back room of the gallery from the sales room. He was dressed as usual in his long amber robes, several chains of amber beads around his neck.
"Your friend won't be needing the cookies," he said in his serene guru tones. "Close the back door, put the sack on the table, and come with me."
He walked across the room and opened the door of what looked like a closet. The top of the underground stairwell loomed in the darkness. Paranormal currents wafted into the room.
The sensation chilling the nape of Lyra's neck meta morphosed into outright dread.
She knew the feeling all too well. Her fight-or-flight instincts were surging. Something was terribly wrong. It wasn't just Quinn's presence here in the gallery or the lack of proper lighting. It wasn't even the fact that Nancy was nowhere in sight. It was the strange pulses of energy she was picking up. They were coming from Quinn.
Instinctively she readied herself to run. It was unfortunate that she was dressed for the auction in a tight, narrow-skirted black dress and three-inch heels, she thought. Not the best attire to wear when called upon to run for your life. But that was the Dore luck for you.
"Where's Nancy?" she said, fighting to keep her own voice calm.
"You will see her soon enough." Quinn motioned toward the stairwell with a graceful flourish. "After you, Lyra."
"I don't think so."
She dropped the sack and spun around, intending to run out into the alley, screaming. There had been no one loitering out there when she had entered the shop a moment ago, but maybe someone in one of the rooms above the shops would hear her.
But before she could take a single step, the world skewed and warped around her. The rear door of the shop narrowed and elongated. The ceiling was suddenly impossibly high. The three little steps down into the alley twisted endlessly in a terrible, writhing, Möbius strip. The pavement below was a winding river filled with heaving waves.
The floor beneath her feet fell away, and she went down hard amid the items that had spilled from the sack. She looked up and saw a specter bending over her.
"I have been patient with you," Quinn said. His voice seemed to come from a vast cavern. "But I will wait no longer."
"You're crazy."
"You still do not comprehend, but you will soon. Come with me."
The room snapped back into proper focus with dizzying suddenness. Lyra sat up cautiously, breathing deeply to control the nausea.
"You're the one who was causing the hallucinations," she said. "It was you all along. You've been doing something to me to make me believe that I was going crazy."
"My talent for inducing hallucinations is extraordinary. A rare gift that runs in my family." He reached into his robes and pulled out another chain. A pale stone caught the light. "I have been able to enhance it and control it with crystal amber."
"Why use your talent against me?"
"I have watched you in my class. I knew that you would try to resist me. Your will is strong. I had to demonstrate my power over you. I knew that it would be necessary for you to understand that I can control you utterly before you would submit."
"Submit to what, for Pete's sake?"
"To me. I am prepared to offer you what no other man, including Sweetwater, can give you."
"What?"
"Power." He gave her a scary, whimsical smile. "You could say that we were made for each other, Lyra Dore. Ours will be the ultimate in harmonic relationships."
"This is just so frickin' romantic. But I gotta tell you, you've got the wrong woman, Quinn. I'm not the romantic type."
"There is no mistake. I recognized you as the one the first day you entered my classroom."
"Is that so?" she managed. "How?"
"It was very simple, really. You were the only one in any of my classes who was not affected by the low dose of energy I use on the students," he said.
"Damn. No wonder everyone else was getting so much more out of those meditation classes. You were hypnotizing them with your amber."
"I brought them into harmonic balance. At least for the period of time they were in my studio. But not you. Never you."
Outrage swept through her. "And here I thought I was just a slow learner, a meditation class failure. You're a scam artist, that's what you are."
"That's a lie." For the first time, strong emotion lit Quinn's eyes. "I am no con man. I really can control the minds of others."
"Maybe. For short periods of time. But at the high level of power required to induce hallucinations, I doubt that you can maintain a focus for more than a few minutes before you exhaust yourself. Talk about a heavy psi drain."
Quinn smiled again, unconcerned. "I have found that even two or three minutes of a nightmare is long enough to control anyone I wish. No one can withstand such visions for long."
"Let's get back to Nancy. Where is she?"
"I told you, she is waiting for us." Once again, Quinn swept out a hand, indicating the doorway to the underworld. "And I can promise you that she will wait forever in the catacombs if you do not accompany me. I took the precaution of removing all of her amber."
"I can't believe that you would leave her down there without amber. That's a death sentence."
"One that only you can commute." He tossed a flashlight to her. "Get up."
She picked up the flashlight and got unsteadily to her feet. The nausea had receded, but she was still shaky. It wasn't just the aftereffects of the hallucinations, she thought. This was fear, pure and simple. She hated feeling afraid.
And from anger came strength.
She rezzed the flashlight and went toward the dark stairwell. "What, exactly, do you want from me, Quinn?"
"I know your secret, Lyra," he said. He followed her, his voice once again serene and assured. "I know your true power. You are so much more than a mere tuner. With me you will explore your true and full potential."
Another chill tightened her insides. She started down into the darkness. "What are you talking about?" she whispered.
"When you walked into my classroom shortly after your discovery of the amethyst ruin, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were the woman I needed."
"So I can tune amethyst," she said. "That's no secret. So what?"
"Do not try to deceive me. I know what the scientists and the researchers at the AI lab do not know. You found three of the pyramid stones."
She was stunned. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you do. What's more, you can work the stones."
"How do you know that?"
"The only reason you would have taken care to conceal those particular stones from Amber Inc. is because you recognized their power. As soon as I researched your genealogical records, my conclusions were confirmed."
"You researched my ancestry?"
"It's all there in the records of the Arcane Society, my dear. As is the information that only one who is descended from a long line of crystal workers can rez the full latent energy of the stone. You are that woman."
She stopped halfway down the staircase and turned to look at him. "You're a member of the Arcane Society?"
"Yes."
"Wait a second. Are you telling me that the Society has my genealogical records?"
"One of your ancestors who came through the Curtain was Arcane. Didn't you know that?"
"No, I sure as heck did not know that."
"She evidently lost her connection with the Society during the Colonial era," Quinn said. "That was not unusual. Life was hard and chaotic in those early years. People were focused on survival. Many members of the Society drifted away. Their descendants have forgotten their roots."
"I can't believe this. The Society lets just anyone use their records to research someone else's family tree?"
"There is nothing private about an individual's family tree, either within the Society or outside of it," Quinn said.
"There sure as heck ought to be."
"Anger is a destructive emotion."
"No shit."
She arrived at the last step. On one side of the subbasement wall psi light glowed through the ragged crack in green quartz. She clicked off the flashlight and went toward it. Quinn followed.
"All right, I'm here with you in the tunnels," Lyra said, moving through the opening. "Where is Nancy?"
"Patience, Lyra. That was always your problem in meditation class. You never achieved a proper degree of harmonic balance." Quinn checked a locator. "Take the first turn to the right."
Obediently she went toward the first intersection. The heels of her shoes clicked
lightly on the quartz floor of the tunnel. "What is it with you, anyway? Amethyst is just a pretty gemstone. Okay, I can generate some attractive images in the relics that came out of the ruin. But when you get right down to it, those chunks of amber are nothing more than alien sculptures."
"Raw amber may have its limitations, but some of the amber artifacts that were created by the aliens are imbued with great power."
"I'm telling you, they're just a bunch of carved rocks."
"Not all of them," Quinn said gently. "Not the pyramids." His voice sharpened abruptly. "Move, woman."
When she did not follow instructions quickly enough, she got another taste of a psychically induced dreamscape. This one warped the already odd proportions of the catacombs into a deeply disturbing world. She froze, terrified that in her disoriented state she would stumble into an alien illusion trap or an energy ghost.
"Remember, your friend's life depends on you," Quinn said, voice sharpening again.
He released her from the hallucination. She sucked in a deep breath and continued down the hall.
"What, exactly, do you want from me?" she said. "Aside from the ultimate harmonic relationship thing, I mean."
"Don't pretend to be naïve, Lyra. It doesn't suit you. You're going to tune those three very special amethyst relics for me."
"What makes you so sure I've got them? I'm telling you, AI confiscated everything in that ruin."
"Your friend Nancy tells a different story. She said you stashed the pyramids somewhere underground. Unfortunately, she did not know the location."
Another wave a fury swept through her. "She would never have told you that willingly. What did you do to her?"
"Calm yourself. I did not hurt her. There was no need. I simply put her into a trance and asked her a few questions about you."
"What kind of questions?"
