Part 16 (1/2)

”Did he recognize you?”

”Of course not! It's like I told Tzaki, he hasn't seen me since I was eight years old. I tried to tell him my name, but I doubt if he took it in. He was in a complete and utter panic.”

”And those other guys-”

”Saw immediately that I was a police officer of some sort. I suppose you develop an instinct for it if you live on the street. They were very polite.” Ari growled under his breath. ”But they wouldn't move. Leave the rabbi alone, sir, the tall fellow told me, he dunt do nothing wrong.”

”He called you sir?”

”Yes. As I said, very polite. I tried to explain that I wasn't going to arrest him, but they didn't believe me.”

”Well, let's get back in the car. We can drive around and see if we can spot him.”

While I drove, Ari called Lieutenant Sanchez about the ”person of interest,” as he described Reb Zeke. Sanchez promised he'd get a couple of squad cars over to the area. As we hunted for our runaway, we saw a lot of police on the streets, but neither we nor they found our fugitive rabbi.

I did, however, talk with Lieutenant Sanchez later, once we were back in the apartment. He called to discuss a leftover question from the Silver Bullet Killer case, the sudden and inexplicable decay of the criminals' bodies after their deaths. I'd asked for information about the fate of the blood soaking Doyle's s.h.i.+rt. The report had arrived, and as I'd suspected, the blood had disappeared as if by magic or dry cleaning. The silk s.h.i.+rt stayed behind. He must have bought it in our world.

”Look, O'Grady,” Sanchez said, ”I realize that there are things you can't tell me. But do you know if the rapid decay was the result of something the military's working on?”

”I don't know, and that's the honest truth.” I lied only because the truth would have been impossible to explain. ”They don't tell me or my agency anything unless they're forced to, and it usually takes a Congressional committee to do the forcing.”

”c.r.a.p,” he said. ”I was afraid of that.”

”I don't think we'd be out of line to suspect them, however.”

”I have to agree with that. Okay, and thank Nathan for me, will you, for the tip on that homeless man. We'll round him up yet. A couple of uniformed officers found and interviewed the men who interfered with Nathan's attempt at capture. That tall Black guy's easy to spot.”

”For sure. You know, if the street people are protecting your witness, it's no wonder you haven't been able to find him.”

”Exactly. But those three, they were willing to talk about 'the rabbi' as they called him. Insisted he was harmless, a real loony, though, talking about flying saucers and some kind of alien invasion.”

”Uh-oh. Do you think he'll have any useful information about Evers, then?”

”No, but I'll follow up anyway. Nothing new on the Evers case, by the way. I'm about ready to agree it was suicide and leave at that.”

I could decipher the wording: the pressure from above to drop the case was becoming intolerable.

”Too bad,” I said. ”But that's how things go, sometimes.”

”They sure do.” Sanchez hesitated, then spoke in a voice dripping with false humor. ”Just never mention the word blackmailer in this connection, okay?”

I pretended to laugh. ”I won't, for sure,” I said. ”To go back to our homeless person of interest. Did his buddies mention why he ran when Nathan tried to talk with him?”

”He's convinced that some of the aliens are out to get him. So I guess he thought Nathan was one of the flying saucer people. Now there he just might be right.”

With that he hung up. My alleged flying saucer person was at the moment sitting on the couch, flipping through the TV channels with the remote. I a.s.sumed he was looking for soccer games. When I caught his attention, he turned the sound off and listened to my rerun of what Sanchez said.

”Interesting, all of it,” Ari said. ”So Sanchez thinks Evers was a blackmailer?”

”I got that impression, yeah. If so, the theory runs, one of his very important victims might have taken steps to end the blackmail once and for all. The only trouble with that theory is that it's completely wrong.”

”A trivial problem.” Ari paused to smile at me. ”This doppelganger business-I wonder if I look like someone Reb Ezekiel knew in that other whatever it is.”

”Deviant world level,” I said. ”If so, you're not a nice guy over there. Not that you're a nice guy over here, either.”

”I try to avoid that, yes. Which reminds me. I really should be teaching Michael how to handle a gun.”

I winced.

”I knew you wouldn't like the idea,” Ari went on. ”But he's going to need to know how to defend himself, especially if he can't learn to do what you do.”

”Ensorcellment? It's a real rare talent, so yeah, you're right. I appreciate your asking me first.” I managed to smile. ”That's a yes, by the way. Better he learns from you than from Jose and the BGs.”

”That's precisely what I thought. There's a gun club over by Lake Merced. I'll see about getting a members.h.i.+p tomorrow.” Ari glanced at his watch. ”They're doubtless closed by now.” He stood up and stretched. ”I'm going to go down to the deli and get takeaway for dinner. Do you want to go with me?”

”No, I'm going to run an LDRS on Reb Zeke while his memory's fresh.”

”Shouldn't I stay for that?”

”Why? It's just a routine procedure. When you're at the deli, could you get some actual vegetables? They have salads there.”

”I promise. I'll be right back.”

”Okay. And I'm going to call Caleb and see about that lunch date.”

But when I called the cell phone number on Caleb's business card, I only got his answering service. I left my name and number and a message about arranging our lunch. To emphasize the business aspect, I asked if I should bring a resume with me-a silly question, since he claimed to want my psychic skills, but I figured it would set the tone. To underscore it, I added that Ari and I were moving to a new flat, and so I might have to postpone the lunch till the next week.

With that out of the way, I brought out my large-size pad of paper and a box of crayons for the Long Distance Remote Sensing operation, or as the old sources call it, fa.r.s.eeing. I sat at the kitchen table and picked up a black crayon to start with. I slowed my breathing, thought of Reb Zeke, and let my mind range out. My hand jerked once and began to draw. I kept the memory image in my mind and let my hand take over.

It picked up crayons, drew, laid them down again, then finally put itself back into my lap. When I looked at the drawing, I saw rough sketches of tall buildings looming like monsters over a small figure dressed in black. Here and there a scribble in a bright color indicated a sign or label on one of the buildings. Absolutely nothing indicated where in the downtown area Reb Zeke was. Still, San Francisco's a small city, some eleven square miles, is all, and the downtown's a small portion of the whole. Sooner or later, Sanchez's men were bound to find him.

As soon as I mentally spoke that thought, I received a subtle warning, not quite a full SAWM, certainly not as strong as an ASTA, but a warning nonetheless. I concentrated on Reb Ekekiel-no, he wasn't the source. Someone else was hunting me, even as I searched for Zeke. I put up an SH-a s.h.i.+eld persona, as the Agency calls them, a barrier to mental detection. The warning vanished. I took the SH down so I could think.

Who? Belial? Or maybe the shadowy guy who spoke to the Peac.o.c.k Angel? The more I thought about that question, the more puzzling it became. The Chaos forces must have already known both me and my location, judging from the projections and Chaos critters I'd seen: Fish Guy, the green possum thing, the fake office worker, the invisible presence in the elevator, and finally the off-balance magical symbol painted on the new flats. Since they knew, they could come after me if they wanted to, yet so far I'd only been aware of surveillance, not attempts on my life or even serious malice. My license to ensorcell might have been making them think twice, and Ari and his gun collection possibly was deterring them, as well.

Perhaps-the thought struck me-perhaps they didn't know about the Agency. I'd a.s.sumed they knew that I was committed to serving Harmony, the balance point between Chaos and Order, but I had no way of knowing if that a.s.sumption was accurate. They might have considered me a lone Chaos operative, out for what I could get in the way of power and money, just like them. In that case, they might see me as a compet.i.tor or maybe even a useful ally, at least for the short run.

Those ideas gave me such a solid satisfaction that I knew the Collective Data Stream underlay them. I expanded them: if they didn't know about the Agency, then they likely came from some other deviant world level, where it didn't exist. Instead of a ”they,” I probably faced an ”it” or a ”him,” a single actor, the most likely candidate for Chaos master being Brother Belial rather than Caleb, who'd impressed me as a candidate not for master but for ”in over his head.”

One thing I knew for certain. I needed to stay on my guard. Friendly relations between Chaotics never lasted long.

Ari returned shortly after with a large brown paper bag. He put it down on a kitchen chair, then picked up the drawing from my LDRS.

”All it tells us is that he's downtown somewhere,” I said. ”Not real useful at the moment.”

”No, but at least you can locate him.” He laid the drawing down again. ”Tomorrow, when it's light, we could do some more hunting. Though if it rains, he'll be driven indoors somewhere.”