27
HE WAS STILL FEELING GOOD TWENTY MINUTES LATER WHEN they went downstairs for breakfast. He carried the lamp in the leather duffel. His computer case was in his other hand. Chloe had stuffed her computer back into her black satchel.
There was a fresh pair of white- haired senior citizens on the stools in front of the slots in the lobby. Neither of them looked up when he and Chloe went past. The front-desk clerk did not come out of his office.
They walked through the weedy parking lot and crossed the street to the small café attached to the casino. The waitress working the morning shift was not the same one who had served them last night, but she looked like she could tell the same hard-luck story.
He and Chloe sat down across from each other in the same booth they had used the previous evening. From his position he had a view into the dark cave of the adjoining casino. It was seven forty- five in the morning, but there were a few intrepid souls feeding the slots. The blackjack and poker tables were quiet. He knew that activity would pick up as the day wore on, growing brisker during the afternoon and evening. By midnight the place would be filled to capacity. The rhythm would be the same tomorrow and the day after and next year. The pattern of casino gaming never changed.
There was always a pattern, Jack thought. Once you identified it you could figure out the strengths and weaknesses. He took some comfort from that. At least he could still think like a strat-talent.
Chloe picked up her fork. “Vegas is always reinventing itself, blowing up old hotels and casinos and building new ones in their place. There’s always new computer technology in the gaming machines. New theme-park resorts on the Strip. Newer and more astonishing high-tech shows in the casino theaters. But underneath it all nothing changes. It’s as if it exists in another dimension.”
Jack shrugged and ate some of his eggs. “That’s the appeal. This town is built on sex and sin. Get too far away from your core business, and you lose your customers.”
Chloe’s fork paused in midair. Her brows rose. “You know, sometimes I forget that you’re a coldhearted zillionaire businessman who makes his living investing.”
For some reason the coldhearted bothered him.
“What’s your problem with Vegas?” he asked.
“Who said I had a problem?”
“No offense, but it’s obvious.”
She sighed. “I’m not a prude, and I have no particular issues involving games of chance. But the energy in a casino bothers me.”
“Yeah? How?”
“What do you see when you look into that other room?”
He glanced at the entrance of the casino again. “Rows of slots. Lots of flashing lights. Croupiers waiting for players. A woman in a sexy outfit carrying a tray of drinks.”
“At seven forty-five in the morning,” Chloe said drily.
He forked up more eggs. “It’s a casino. Not as fancy as those on the Strip but, still, a casino. It is what it is.”
She glanced over her shoulder and contemplated the dark gaming floor for a moment. He felt energy pulse and knew that she had opened her senses.
“To me it looks like someone splashed hot, radioactive acid all over the place,” she said. She turned back to her eggs. “Layers and layers of it. Years, decades of the stuff. There’s a reason they call gambling a fever. It’s like a drug. It affects dream psi in a major way.”
“People with a lot of talent, you and me, for instance, tend to get lucky when we play,” he pointed out. “The psychic side of our natures gives us an edge.”
She regarded him with stern disapproval. “Do you gamble?”
“All the time.” He smiled. “But only when I have enough information to calculate the odds.”
Her expression cleared. “You mean your venture-capital business. Obviously that line of work does require that you take risks.”
“So does yours.”
She brushed that aside. “I meant financial risk.”
He drank some coffee and thought about how to get back to the subject that seemed to matter as much as the lamp did this morning.
He put the mug down and looked at her. “About last night.”
He could have sworn she flinched a little, but she gave him a dazzling smile.
“You know,” she said, “I doubt that in the entire history of civilization there has ever been a good conversation that started with about last night.”
He got an odd sensation of heat but not the sexual kind. It took him a couple of beats to realize that he was probably turning a dull red.
“You know we need to talk about it,” he said.
“Why?”
She was still smiling, but she was starting to get a deer- in-the-headlights look in her eyes. He knew he was pushing into dangerous territory.
“Don’t know about you,” he said neutrally, “but it’s never been like that for me.”
She cleared her throat. “I absolutely agree that it was a very unique experience.”
“Unique.” He drank some more coffee. “Okay, that’s one way to describe it.”
“But, as you said, there have always been stories about what it’s like when two strong talents get together,” she added earnestly. “In that way, I mean.”
“I’ve met other strong talents,” he said, keeping his voice even. “My ex-wife was a Level Eight. Can’t say that it’s ever been like that for me. You?”
“Like I said, it was unique,” she declared briskly. “Let’s just leave it at that. We have other priorities at the moment.”
“What are you afraid of?”
She exhaled slowly and put down her fork. “You don’t know what it’s been like for me all these years. I’ve never even been able to share a bedroom with anyone, let alone a bed. I’m uncomfortable just being in the same room with someone who is taking a nap in a chair. When I was younger there were no sleepovers with friends. No trips to camp because I couldn’t bunk with anyone. In college I had to rent my own apartment because I couldn’t deal with a roommate. Since college I’ve always lived alone.”
“And last night?”
“Like I said, last night was different,” she said. “That’s all I know. Could we please change the subject?”
“Sure.”
She slipped instantly back into her competent investigator mode, sharp and resolved once again. “At least we now know that we’ve got a technique for dealing with your trances.”
“Hot sex?” He smiled. “Works for me.”
She blushed furiously and fixed him with her steely look. “I was talking about the fact that I was able to bring you out of the sleepwalking state, not what happened afterward.”
“Right.” He finished the last of his eggs and lounged against the back of the booth. “Why are you so determined to help me? Is it because you feel sorry for me?”
She bristled. “I don’t take cases because I feel sorry for people.”
“Sure you do.”
“Well, that’s not why I’m sticking with this case,” she insisted.
“Why, then?”
“Because of the challenge, of course. This is the most interesting case I’ve ever had. You couldn’t fire me now if you tried.”
I couldn’t let you out of my sight now, if I tried, he thought.
“You’re an amazing woman, Chloe Harper.”
“That’s me, Amazing Woman. Remember that when you get my bill.” She finished her eggs and took her notebook out of her bag. “Now, then, before you went into your sleepwalking mode last night, I made some notes about the lamp.”
“Learn anything?”
“Yes, I think so. The lamp is definitely imbued with a lot of extremely powerful dreamlight that is in a state of suspended animation. I can light the thing, or at least I can stir up enough energy to make it glow, but I can’t access its full power. Got a feeling only you or someone with a similar genetic psychic makeup can do that.”
“What happens after we get it running at full power?”
“I’m not sure, but I think the lamp requires two people to operate it.” She looked up from her notes. “There’s just too much power in the thing for any one individual to handle.”
“Let’s get to the bottom line. Once we get the lamp fired up do you think you can manipulate the light waves in a way that will stop whatever is happening to me?”
She hesitated. “Maybe.”
“Maybe. Now, there’s a word guaranteed to reassure the client.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that there are so many unknowns here. All I can tell you at the moment is that I think I can work the energy in some specific ways. Since the lamp is tuned to your psychic frequencies, I can probably use it to affect your talent.” She paused. “If you’re really sure that’s what you want me to do.”
“That’s the whole point here,” he said grimly.
“There’s something else you should know.”
“What?”
“Like I said, there’s a lot of power in that lamp, but I don’t think all of it was meant to manipulate your personal talent. There’s just too much energy in the thing.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” Clearly troubled, she looked back at her notes. “There are some really strange light waves in stasis within the lamp. I sense colors I’ve never seen before. They’re inert at the moment, and, as I said, I think only you can activate them. But once they are revved up we may have a serious problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
She closed the notebook. “All I can tell you is that I think the lamp is capable of doing something else besides stabilize your dream psi channels. Are you sure you don’t want to take this to the experts at Arcane?”
“If they screw it up and I turn into a Cerberus I’ll be a dead man, anyway. I’d rather take my chances with you.”
“It’s just that the Society’s researchers know so much more about the laws of para-physics. I’m working in the dark here. Literally.”
He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. “Old Nick asked Eleanor Fleming to work the lamp three times. The first time the goal was to give him a second talent. The second time he wanted her to get rid of the hallucinations and nightmares brought on by the new talent. But it is unclear what he intended on the third occasion. What if the legends are wrong? What if he wasn’t trying to create a third talent? What if he was smart enough to realize that no human being could generate that much psi naturally, let alone control it?”
“So what did he want Eleanor to do with the lamp that last time?”
“I don’t know. But what is clear is that before he went back to her the third time, he had created and installed some new crystals in the lamp. Maybe he intended to use it in some way that no one has even considered.”
“Such as?”
“Hell if I know.”
He stopped speaking because the muffled noise of a cascade of cheerful chimes interrupted him. Chloe started a little and then dove back into her satchel. She came up with her cell phone.
“Rose? Yes, we’re still in Vegas. Everything okay on that end? What? Are you all right?”
Shock and intense concern flashed across her face. Jack felt a chill of icy intuition crackle across his senses.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chloe continued. “Yes, fine. Right. No, I agree, it probably won’t do any good to call the police, but we should report it, anyway. Hang on, I want to tell Jack what’s going on.” She took the phone away from her ear.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Rose thinks someone broke into my office and my apartment last night while she was at a class. She had Hector with her.”
“She thinks someone broke in? She’s not sure?”
“She says nothing was stolen and only a couple of small things looked out of place. But she’s almost certain that someone went through my trash and my desk.”
“And probably your office computer.” He was on his feet, fishing out his wallet.
“I don’t think there’s much danger of anyone accessing any of my files.” She slid out of the booth and got to her feet. “My cousin Abe is a high-end crypto talent. He has all of my stuff locked up with some industrial-strength encryption.”
“Nothing a J&J crypto couldn’t hack into. Let’s go.”