Page 54 of Devil's Bargain

Lucia, without seeming to be in a big hurry or doing anything important, reached around and pulled out her gun. She pointed it directly at Laskins. “Nothing personal,” she said, with a hint of a smile, “but I’dreallylike an answer to my question first. And Charles, don’t do anything foolish, please, because two of us shooting in here really won’t help the situation.”

Laskins threw out a warning hand to the Marine. “Interesting. There was only a very small chance that you would do that, you know.”

“Unless you’re wearing bulletproof armor under that Hugo Boss suit, I don’t think that means much,” Lucia replied. They exchanged cool little smiles. “How is it done?”

“How is what done?”

Jazz jumped in. “The fortune-telling. What do you have? Tarot cards? A crystal ball? Twelve thousand monkeys with calculators?” She knew she sounded sarcastic, and didn’t give a damn. This was scary. The fact that Lucia was buying it downright terrified her.

Laskins gave her a narrow, sour smile. “No. We have a few people who do these things—freaks of nature, if you will. But the rest of us apply science, not superstition. It might surprise you to know there are solid, scientific methods that can be applied to the problem of alternative realities. String theory, for instance.”

“You have a psychic,” Lucia cut in. “Right?”

“Yes. You could say that.”

“Then why all the chess?”

“This is what happens,” Laskins said irritably, “when you havetwopsychics who both want to win.”

Lucia glanced aside at Jazz, who hadn’t quite figured out a move, either. At least, nothing that wouldn’t compromise Lucia’s. “You believing anything he’s told us?” she asked.

“I believe that I’m going to report seeing Wendy Blankenship buzz herself into that apartment,” Jazz said. “I would have done that, anyway.”

“You’ll need a cover story. Some reason you were on the street and saw her,” Lucia replied. “I can handle that part, back-engineer an assignment you were on. It’ll check out.” She transferred attention back to the two facing them—not, Jazz suspected, that it had ever really wandered. “Mr. Laskins, you have ten seconds to answer me before.my partner and I exit this vehicle and your plans, forever. If you know anything at all about me, you know that I mean what I’m saying.”

“Yes,” Laskins said sourly. “I know you mean it, Garza. But use your common sense. The Cross Society is giving you information, and you’re acting upon it. Do you really think you can just walk away?”

“Oh, yes, I think I can. And should.”

“From the moment our psychic—”

“Max Simms?” Jazz asked. Laskins cut his steely Paul Newman stare her way.

“Yes, fine, Max Simms. From the moment you appeared in his visions, you became important. We got to you first. That made you targets—low-priority, at present—for the opposition. You will be targets for as long as you continue to be Actors.”

“How do we quit?”

It was a perfectly good question, but Laskins’s smile got wider. “You can’t, Ms. Callender. Not of your own accord. For as long as the greater forces of the universe—God, the devil, or chance—deem you an Actor, you will remain one. But don’t worry. Eventually, it will be over.”

“Yeah,” Jazz snapped. “Eventually we all die.”

Laskins didn’t bother to deny it.

Laskins said, “We’ve reached a hard stop, Ms. Garza. You can either shoot me, which would have a less than pleasant outcome for both you and your partner, or you can exit the limousine and refuse to take any further support or information from us. But if you do that, you cut your-selves off. You’ve been marked as Leads, both of you. What you do matters.Everythingyou do matters, one way or another. You’re targets, as surely as Wendy Blankenship, and you’ll end up just the same if we don’t help you.”

“I don’t like threats.” Lucia almost purred it.

“That isn’t a threat,” he said. “It doesn’t need to be. You’ve become part of what we are. Our enemies know that.”

Lucia smiled and looked at Jazz. It was crazy, weird,exhilarating,the way the two of them communicated. The way things hummed at moments like this.

“Well,” Jazz said, “I suck at chess, but Ilovecontact sports.”

On some unseen signal, Charles pulled the limo in at the curb again. Lucia reached over and opened her door. “The thing about hiring what you call Leads? We aren’t going to always do what you tell us.”

“If you don’t, people will die,” Laskins said.

“I did what you asked. Blankenship’s still dead,” Jazz said. Lucia slid smoothly out of the limousine. She scooted over to follow. “Don’t call us. Oh, and those red letters? Stuff them.”

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