“Excellent. You take care of this for me, Jane, and you’ll make me a very happy man. And if you find that thisperson who isn’t is still around, I expect you tocorrect the situation. Do you understand or should I use more monosyllabic words?”

Jane sighed and began to search through a sock drawer. She pushed the socks aside and pulled a gun out from underneath them.

“I’ll do my best, sir.” She held it by two fingers like it was a dead fish and then checked the safety before sliding the gun neatly into the back of her belt.

“See that you do,” Faisal said. “I’ll expect a full report on my desk in the morning.”

Jane threw the phone onto the bed and wrestled her way into the black top she had picked out. This time I watched unabashed. She pulled her blond hair back into a manageable ponytail, and I tried to figure out how a relatively sweet girl had come to toting a gun. She must have marveled at all the changes in her life over the past few months, the feeling of importance that came with newfound power and security. I was pretty sure that no temp job had ever let her have a gun before. She probably chalked up carrying a piece as part of her “benefits package.”

She walked back into her living room and began looking through a stack of folders she had spread out on the coffee table earlier in the evening. I was startled when she picked one of them up and flipped it open to a photograph of me standing in the Sectarians’ reception area. I was a little flattered that I was the one whom she meant to spy on. And obviously Irene was the “someone whoisn’t ” that Faisal was looking for.

Jane wasn’t a killer…was she? I knew she was after Irene, but would she kill me if I got in the way? I didn’t know her well enough after our two encounters, but it had felt like there was a tiny bit of chemistry between us the other night during dinner. Would that prevent her from sending me to the big dirt nap in the sky? Asinine questions-especially those regarding my attraction to a cultist-would have to wait. I had to get back to my place before she did.

I hastily packed my equipment while watching Jane pack hers. I was thrilled to see that she wasn’t in possession of a parabolic mike, which meant she wouldn’t be able to listen in on my apartment the way I had on hers. That was some relief.

I took one last look. Jane was so sinisterly cute, and everything felt more confusing than ever.

I just prayed she wouldn’t have to use her “benefits package” on me.

18

I raced back to my apartment in record time. I had to be there to keep Irene safe. I knew Jane would be watching the two of us in much the same way I had been watching her, and while I felt the whole procedure was just as invasive, I had to admit the prospect was strangely exciting. Knowing ahead of time that someone was going to be watching me all stalkerlike was a godsend. It meant I stood a better chance of controlling the situation.

Now Jane would be the voyeur and I would be the one on display. The possibility that she might attempt to shoot me or do something to Irene did take some of the intrigue out of the sitch, though. But I figured that if I could get the curtains drawn in the living room before Jane got to my apartment, Irene and I would be relatively safe.

On the way home I made the decision not to tell Irene about our possible surveillance. Irene had enough on her plate without needing the added burden of worrying over someone who probably couldn’t do her harm anyway-and I needed Irene to be calm and relaxed. I couldn’t have her flickering in and out with nerves if I was going to keep her safe.

When I got back home, Irene was in my living room marveling over the woodwork of a cabinet I had picked up in New Hampshire. Her gaze was so fixed on the piece that she barely registered I was in the room. She looked up as I shut the door behind me and locked it. I ran to the windows and hastily pulled the curtains over each of them. I started pushing crates and boxes out of the way and up against the bank of windows.

“Hello,” said Irene. “Tough day at the office?”

I forced a laugh and was thrilled to see how calm and content she was. Her body looked solid as a rock, not a hint of transparency. “Why don’t you have a seat?” I said, moving a stack of books from the couch to give her more room. “I’m just going to tidy up a bit.”

“Now?” she said, with a giggle that gave way to uproarious laughter. The reaction was so cartoonish, so out of character, that I wondered if maybe she was beginning to degrade, as Connor had warned she would. “But it’s so late!”

“Well, better late than never, right?” I said.

I threw myself down on the couch, checking to make sure my bat was still hanging from my belt. Jane had to be outside spying by now, and God only knew what she might do. If she made a move on the apartment, I wanted to be ready. Irene sat at the far end of the couch staring at me. She seemed to have settled back to her normal, refined self.

It was funny how small talk seemed hard to come by when I really needed it. There were so many topics I wanted to avoid right now to keep Irene in good spirits. The biggest elephant in the conversational room, of course, was her own case, which she naturally brought up.

“Dare I ask if there are any new developments?”

“Be patient,” I said, looking over toward the windows. I spun around and checked the door. “Something will come up. There’s nothing new.”

Unless I counted the fact that I knew Faisal Bane was interested in her, but I didn’t think telling Irene that would be terribly calming. Instead, I did what I did best when I felt uncomfortable. I rambled.

We had antiques as a common ground after all. I told her about all the wonderful pieces I had seen back at her apartment, leaving out the fact that most of them were smashed to bits. The mere mention of so many of her things kept her fascinated, and did the trick of making her seem all the more alive. A strong part of me wanted to forget that she was no longer living.

The threat of Jane slowly faded from my thoughts as I became more and more immersed in my conversation with Irene. But just when I was lulled into a real sense of comfort, a commotion arose somewhere outside my wall of windows.

“Wesker, no!” a male voice shouted from the rooftop across the way.

The windows were shut, but the shout cut through them. The thunderous din of something or someonecrashing full force into the alleyway below rang out. I threw the sash up on the window and chanced a look outside. Lights throughout the building were coming on, and several others people were already poking their heads out. It was too dark to make out anything distinct in the alley below, and I gave up trying to see anything when a rapid knocking sounded at the door.

“What’s going on?” Irene said nervously. I looked over at her and her body flickered briefly due to her sudden emotional state.

“Keep it together, Irene,” I said, running for the door.

When I opened it, two men stood there: Inspectre Argyle Quimbley and Thaddeus Wesker of Greater amp; Lesser Arcana. The old Brit looked positively winded, but Wesker just looked pissed off. He pushed his way into the apartment and Quimbley stumbled in behind him, clutching his side. I was stunned by their sudden appearance at my apartment, and in the middle of the night no less. No one from work had ever been here before. Well, unless you counted Irene. I shut the door and ran for the window, pulling the curtain down again now that Jane hadfour potential targets to choose from. Wesker was staring darkly at Irene.

“What’sshe doing here?” he spat out.

“Excuse me,” Irene said, heading angrily toward Wesker at a fast float. “Am I not in the room?”

“What’s going on?” I asked, quickly stepping between her and Wesker. Irene stopped in her tracks. “What the hell was that? Inspectre, was that you I heard calling out?”