“Most disappeared after J&J worked a case that came to be known in the records as the Quicksilver affair. But a few showed up a couple hundred years later in the twenty-first century. That was back when Fallon Jones was running J&J.”
“Which Jones?”
“Never mind, take my word for it, he was one of the legendary directors of J&J. He got all sorts of interesting cases. Rogue psychics, Nightshade, Mrs. Bridewell’s curiosities.”
Marlowe sounded wistful, Slade thought. He smiled. “Well, it’s not like you and your fiancé haven’t been busy lately. According to the press the two of you saved the whole Underworld.”
“Yes, that was quite exciting,” Marlowe said, brightening. “You say the device in your bathtub is still in working order?”
Slade thought about the cold energy that had almost iced his heart. “No doubt about it.”
“Does the mechanism look like Old World technology?”
“No, the escapement and the other parts are all new,” he said. “So is the costume. Everything about it was obviously constructed here on Harmony.”
“Except for the eyes. I’ll bet they’re original. They are the source of the killing energy and no one has ever figured out how to re-create Mrs. Bridewell’s brilliant work.”
“Not that you know of.”
“True. But there is absolutely no record of her work having been duplicated. Bridewell found a way to infuse powerful energy in glass and hold it in stasis until it is released by mechanical means. Her weapons-grade automatons could be used again and again, like guns. Quite unique.”
“The question now is, how the hell did this thing end up on my island?”
There was the faintest of pauses on the other end of the connection.
“Your island?” Marlowe repeated neutrally. “Adam told me that as far as you were concerned, the job on Rainshadow was strictly temporary. He said you were planning to quit in a few months.”
“Right,” Slade said. “But I’m here now and I’ve got a job to do. So for the time being, this is my town and my island. Any idea how that curiosity got here?”
“No,” Marlowe said. “But believe me, J&J will be looking into the matter.”
“Start with a dealer who worked the paranormal artifacts black market. The name is Jeremy Gaines.”
“Okay. Tell me about Gaines.”
“The first thing you should know is that he’s dead,” Slade said. “Murdered by paranormal means. He was in the para-arms business and it looks like he may have been killed by the two smugglers I just arrested but I’m not sure about that. I’ll see what I can get out of them but they’re obviously low-level muscle, not players.”
“What else do you know about them?”
“Officer Willis called just before I phoned you. He did a quick background check and confirmed that they are a couple of small-time career-criminals. They’re brothers, incidentally. Not the hottest amber in the drawer but they apparently had just enough hunter-talent to make them well-qualified for a life of crime. There are warrants out for their arrest from Frequency City. Most of it B and E. My next call will be to the Frequency cops. They can have both of them. I don’t want them on my island.”
“You said they’re hunter-talents.” Marlowe spoke deliberately. “Probably going to be hard to hold in a jail cell.”
“Very low-rent hunters,” Slade said, putting equally strong emphasis on his own words. “I don’t think it will be necessary for J&J to make any special arrangements for those two.”
“You’re sure the system can handle them?”
Slade thought about the zones of energy that he had extinguished in the auras of the two men. Psychic canyons of night, he thought. The two men who had dared to put their hands on Charlotte would never recover their talent. He had made sure of it. But he wasn’t about to explain that to the new director of the Frequency City office of J&J.
“If they get out of jail,” he said, “it won’t be because of their talent. Can’t guarantee what a jury will do. That’s always a crapshoot.”
“Okay,” Marlowe said. “I’ll take your word for it. Any idea why that pair of smugglers murdered Jeremy Gaines?”
“I haven’t questioned them yet but I’ve got one scenario that fits. We know there’s a market for para-weapons.”
“Nobody ever went broke selling guns, paranormal or otherwise,” Marlowe agreed. “It’s like the drug business. There are always plenty of buyers.”
“If I’m right about Jeremy Gaines being involved in the psi-arms trade, he probably needed a couple of tough guys to handle shipping and receiving. That’s a rough market.”
“True.”
“The pair I picked up knows how to operate a boat and they know enough about Rainshadow to figure out where on the island they could conceal illicit artifacts between shipments. It’s obvious they’ve been using the island as a staging point for their products for some time.”
“You’re thinking this is a falling-out-among-thieves situation? The two smugglers quarreled with Gaines and decided they didn’t need him anymore?”
“Maybe.” But it didn’t feel quite right, he thought. “I’ll have more for you after they wake up and I’ve had a chance to question them.”
“Wake up?” Marlowe’s voice sharpened. “They’re both asleep? You said they just got locked up. How many criminals take a nap shortly after being arrested? They should be busy calling their bail bondsmen and their lawyers.”
“Turns out we don’t have a lot of bail bondsmen and lawyers on the island. There was a bit of a scuffle when I took the bad guys down. I’m going to have to let you go. I’ve got a lot to do here between trying to close out my case and prepare for the storm.”
“What does this have to do with a storm?” Marlowe demanded.
“Big one coming in tonight. Tomorrow there will be a lot of downed trees blocking roads and causing power outages. Probably a fair amount of wind damage.”
“So?”
“The local police department is the closest thing Rainshadow has to an emergency response agency. I’ve got one officer and a secretary. Come dawn, we’re all going to be busy doing damage assessment and checking on some of the folks who live in the more remote sections of the island. Lots of our residents tend to be a bit eccentric and reclusive. Some of them don’t even have phones. I’ll call you when I have more information.”
“I see.” Marlowe cleared her throat. “How are you doing there on Rainshadow? Is the new job working out for you?”
“Working out fine,” Slade said.
“Good. That’s good. Glad to hear it.” She paused delicately. “Are you feeling all right?”
“If you’re asking me about my para-senses, which I assume is your real question, they haven’t deteriorated any further.”
“I’m so glad. Adam told me about what the explosion did to your senses. I’m so very sorry.”
She meant well, Slade thought, but the sympathy in her voice was annoying.
“My talent has stabilized, at least for now,” he said. He kept his own voice cool and even, making it clear he was not inviting any more conversation on the topic. Good-bye, Marlowe. Give my best to Adam. I’ll see you both at the wedding.”
“Wait, don’t hang up—”
Slade closed the phone.
ADAM WINTERS TURNED AWAY FROM THE WINDOW and watched Marlowe put down the phone. He could tell from the tightness at the edges of her eyes that she was annoyed. He loved looking at her, he thought, regardless of her mood. She never ceased to fascinate him. Her energy worked magic.
Evidently sensing that she was irritated, Gibson, Marlowe’s dust bunny companion, vaulted up onto the desk and offered her a High-Rez Energy Bar from his precious stash. Gibson was a member of the High-Rez Energy Bar of the Month Club. He received a box of the treats every four weeks, courtesy of the Frequency City Ghost Hunters Guild. Gibson had helped save the Underworld but figuring out how to thank a dust bunny for service above and beyond the call of duty was no easy task. He seemed thrilled with his monthly energy bar shipments, though.