Part 6 (1/2)

”SOP says for you to come in from the cold, operative.”

Delgado swallowed. He needed food and rest. He would only get dinner. He was too far behind Rowan for resting. ”This isn't standard. I'm looking for Rowan. Care to give me a hint?” You can't. Tell me you can't.

”You know I can't.”

”Come on, Yos.h.i.+. I'm calling in on a clean line and obviously myself. Just give me a G.o.dd.a.m.n clue. A name, a sign, anything. Please tell me she's not on a f.u.c.king run.” His voice cracked.

There was another click. Then another familiar voice, crackling with impatience. ”Del, where the h.e.l.l are you?””Fifty miles out of Vegas, General.” It was closer to fifteen, but old habit made him mislead. ”Tell me you didn't send my girl in there.”

”You're supposed to come in the approved way. If you do, you can see Rowan, Del. That's the only offer you're going to get.” Harsh, but with an undertone of something else-Henderson was trying to tell him something. Or at least Del hoped he was.

Come on, old man, I'm tired and blunt, give me a little something here, anything? ”You think I'd do anything to endanger her?”

”I'm going by protocols you yourself laid down, operative. Come in. That whole sector's crawling with Sigs.”

Aha. Very tricky, old man. And very nicely put. ”There're three blind mice on her trail, General. I'm not coming in unless it's with her.” You sent her on a f.u.c.king run. Dammit. Fresh on the heels of that thought came a wave of almost-panic. The situation must be incredibly bad. Tell me you gave her Brew as backup. Tell me you've sent her in with a full team. G.o.ddammit, General, talk to me!

He knew the old man couldn't. Couldn't take the chance, couldn't trust Del's voice on the phone. He wouldn't have trusted Henderson if the situations were reversed, especially not with Rowan's safety on the line. ”Let us bring you in, Del. Nice and easy. We can bring you in and you can see Rowan's pretty face again. She's been missing you.”

That bit of information made his heart pound even harder. Even if it wasn't true, he still wanted to believe it. ”Likewise,” he managed. ”Just so you know, I'm tracking her. I'll come in when she does. Warn her to be on her toes.” Carson's after her. Carson and that G.o.dd.a.m.n j.a.panese psycho. And Andrews as well, but now Andrews has a big hard-on for me, too.

”You're wasting your time, Del. Come in.”

”See you soon.” He laid the phone back in the cradle and listened as the box clicked with his change.

Night was cold out here, under the hard jewels of the desert stars. Las Vegas was a volcano of light in the near distance, especially the sword of the Luxor's spotlight.

Delgado rested his head against the chill gla.s.s of the phone box, keeping the door open with one foot.

The smell of sagebrush and diesel, plus heat simmering away from cooling pavement, rose to touch his cheeks. He was running on nerves and instinct, rubbed raw by the aftereffects of the push and the Zed addiction. He only had one hypo left. He needed food, some kind of ballast. He suspected he'd pulled a mental muscle or two by using the push on himself.

Didn't matter. What mattered was finding Rowan and watching over her until she could bring him back into the Society.

He found himself hyperventilating. Bad, the first stage of withdrawal. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Not without her. Making himself forget had served one other purpose: Sigma was unaware of Rowan's ability to nullify Zed addictions. Maybe Jilssen hadn't known either. Del had certainly done his best to keep it quiet. If they'd known, he would never have escaped them.

And something about his escape bothered him too. It had been too uncharacteristically easy.

Don't start getting paranoid now. Focus on what matters.

What mattered right now was getting something to eat, and then driving into Vegas proper to take a lookaround. He'd need to figure out which casino they were most likely to hit, see if his luck and his instinct held.

Or maybe he was just chasing his own tail?

No. He knew, a clear, deep, undeniable knowledge that settled in his gut and twisted, hard. She was probably asleep in a hotel room right now, with whatever backup Henderson had managed to send with her. Please, not Cath. The G.o.dd.a.m.n punk girl will get them both killed. He stepped out of the phone booth.

First things first. Some stick-to-your-ribs road grease, and then he'd be on his way. Thank G.o.d truck stops were mostly cheap. He would have to replenish his cash posthaste. Impossible to hide without money.

Just stay safe, angel, he thought, trying not to remember her face. It was impossible. Now that he did remember, there was precious little else he could think about. Just stay safe until I can get to you. I'm on my way.

It was nice to be back in the city again. He worked best in an urban setting. There wasn't much room to hide in small towns or out in the vast stretches of wasteland that were America's heart. Mom and Pop and apple pie, and Sigma working behind the scenes to scoop up every psion that wasn't nailed down.

Wipe 'em with Zed and put them to work for the American dream. n.o.body was even sure what war they were fighting now, since the Russians had started cannibalizing themselves.

It made his mouth sour just to think about it.

Morning dawned bright and clear, but he didn't think she'd be out that early. There was no crowd cover.

It was afternoon when he drove the Strip, obeying every traffic law. Two things became immediately apparent: he was feeling better and better about this every time he saw the Luxor, and Sigma was in town.

Please don't tell me Rowan's. .h.i.tting the place that looks like a giant pyramid. The security in there is too good. Stick with the smaller ones, what do you say? Except the smaller ones will get sticky over the type of payoff we're talking about. Or are you doing the horses, angel? With your precog it won't be hard to pick a winner or two.

No, that felt wrong. It was the casinos, and in particular, it was the one that looked like Ramses had thrown a despotic fit in the desert again. Great.

He almost didn't spot the three black vans tucked into alleys at even intervals down the Strip, almost didn't catch the crackle of psychic electricity coming from some of the strolling tourists. Most of them were free ops like Andrews. They wouldn't bring in the brainwiped until they had a lock on her and wanted the heavy guns.

He left the car in an underground parking lot and decided to penetrate on foot. It was problematic. If the Sigs were around, they might need a fast getaway. He couldn't afford to have them recognize him first-off by driving right into their critical zone.

It was too warm, and he was in T-s.h.i.+rt, jeans, rig, and boots, not to mention the loose leather jacket. He would simmer in his own sweat before long.

He wandered with the flow of the crowds on the hot pavement, tourists coming to see the big pile ofneon and broken dreams. You don't belong in this town, angel.

She belonged in some Ivy League, ivy-covered northeast village, one where the houses were old and there were bookstores on every corner. He remembered her coming home with bags of books and stacking them in his room, rescuing plants and nursing them back to health. Remembered her house, quiet and trim and neat before Sigma destroyed it with bullets and tear gas. Remembered watching her while she slept, a book dropped onto her chest and her face quiet and serene in the wash of winter sunlight coming through his window.

That had been the best winter of his life, squiring her around Headquarters, watching her learn to use her talent. Thank G.o.d he had pushed himself to forget. If they had caught her ... He almost shuddered just thinking about it, controlled the movement. He didn't want any pa.s.sersby to register him.

The pyramid towered above him, and he caught the flow of people pressing in through the front door.

Cavernous lobby done in tawny colors, touches of royal blue, palm trees in pots, and the smell of air-conditioning. Welcome coolness flooded him, made him more aware of how the Zed tracks on his arm were itching. He would start to twitch before long, withdrawal torturing his nervous system, begging him to jack out.

Slot machines whizzed and burped electronically. The mood of the place-savage and desperate, with a thin veneer of fun-washed over his raw psyche. He needed that last hypo of Zed, but he couldn't afford to use it now. He needed to get a zero on a pale head of hair, a slim, small, graceful woman with wide green eyes. What if Henderson had made her dye her hair for camouflage? It would be the smart move, but Del's heart hurt to think of that long pale mane altered. Hurt to think of it cut short, although he would still be able to run his fingers through the silky ma.s.s of it and- Wrong thing to think. He'd end up distracting himself. He drifted to the buffet and saw nothing but hungry tourists and gamblers. The vast open s.p.a.ce above him-each floor with its own balcony looking down into the well of the pyramid-pressed down, cavernous and cool with air-conditioning. He smelled cigarette smoke, sweat, heat, perfume, carpeting, and reheated coffee.

He worked his way into the pit, ignoring the decor. It meant nothing except for possible cover and escape routes. He brushed past a heavyset woman with her arm around her teenage daughter. The daughter, wearing a tight pink Freezewire T-s.h.i.+rt, rolled her eyes. ”It's Vegas, Mom. Live a little, will you?”

G.o.ddammit. He ducked into the bar, ordered a double Scotch to calm his nerves and tipped the bartender. He bolted the alcohol. It would dull him a little, but that was to the good since his nerves were starting to burn from Zed and crackle with...

What was that? Felt like a lightning storm coming, little bits of electricity dazzling over his skin. Electric honey, a sensation he remembered.

It felt like Rowan.

G.o.dd.a.m.n. He ordered another Scotch, downed it as fast as he could and left the bar, plunging into the crowd and working his way to the pit. They had chosen a good time to come out. Everyone was looking for a giveaway at the buffet and a few minutes of gambling. She was here; he'd bet his life on it.

He was betting his life on it. Because not only was he almost out of Zed, but he had the sneaking feeling Sigma would close in on this place too, unless she was very, very careful.

Chapter Thirteen.