“You read the business press?”

“I became somewhat obsessed with it after Ethel Whitcomb started hounding me. It’s the only way I can keep track of her. As the head of Whitcomb Industries, she appears in the papers a lot.”

“Smart,” he said, appreciative of the tactic. “In answer to your question, my grandfather runs Sebastian, Inc. now. He intends to retire soon. No one else in the family, except me, wants to take over the job.”

She paused again and looked back, studying him. “But you want the job?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’ve wanted that job from the cradle.”

“Must be nice to know what you’re supposed to be doing in life,” she said. There was a wistful note in her words.

She arrived on the fourth floor and started toward the end of the hall, Houdini scampering along at her heels. Drake followed with the suitcase and pondered his strategy. He was pretty sure that Alice would go to Rainshadow with him, but it was by no means a done deal. She was still leery. He could not blame her. It was starting to look like he would be spending the night in the car, keeping watch on the Dead City Suites to make sure Alice did not pull another vanishing act.

He had told her nothing less than the truth. They needed all the help they could get on Rainshadow. The fact that Alice had been able to decipher Nick North’s psi-code map was important, so was her high-rez light-talent. But he was also increasingly certain that whatever had gone down before, during, and after the disastrous honeymoon on Rainshadow with Whitcomb was the real key to unlocking the mystery.

Someone was convinced that there was something worth killing for on the island.

Alice stopped in front of Number Three and took out a key. When she got the door open, a draft of fresh night air flowed out. Drake knew from her startled reaction that she had not left a window open inside the apartment.

In that instant Houdini growled and sleeked out, showing a lot of eyes and teeth.

“Oh, crap,” Alice whispered. “Not again.”

She stepped swiftly back into the hallway and promptly vanished, taking Houdini with her. Evidently she did not have enough energy left to shield the cobalt-blue tote bag because it was left hanging in midair.

Drake jacked up his senses so that he could see Alice. She reappeared a short distance away, Houdini crouched tensely on her shoulder.

“Stay clear of the door,” Drake said.

He had already let go of the suitcase and was on his way into the apartment, the light spear in his hand.

There was a lot of frantic movement somewhere inside. A hard object crashed to the floor.

The interior of the apartment was illuminated by the green psi-light streaming in through the windows. A man in a stocking mask rushed across the room, heading toward the sliding glass door that opened onto a minuscule balcony.

The intruder was fast, but Drake aimed the spear, got a fix, and rezzed the weapon. He used considerably less energy for the shot than he had used on the thugs in the alley. This time he wanted to have a conversation with the target.

Dark lightning flashed, striking the intruder.

The fleeing man gave a hoarse, panic-stricken cry. He staggered, flailing wildly as he lost his sense of balance. He went to his knees, tried to scramble back to his feet, and finally collapsed on the floor.

“Don’t move,” Drake said, “or I’ll use a higher setting.”

The intruder lay still, breathing hard. He stared at Drake through the holes in the stocking mask.

“Who the freaking hell are you?” he gasped.

“Enough about me,” Drake said. “Let’s talk about you.”

“Shit. I’m a private investigator. Jerry McCarson. License is in my wallet. What did you do to me?”

Drake ignored the question while he conducted a quick search for a weapon. He did not find one, but he did find a wallet.

The room lights came on just as he took out the license.

“I heard him say he’s a PI.” Alice sounded grimly resigned. She pulled the suitcase into the apartment and closed the door. “That means he’s working for Ethel Whitcomb. Looks like this is just not my night.”

Houdini was fully fluffed again. But he still had all four eyes open. He growled at McCarson.

Drake glanced at Alice. “You know this guy?”

“No, but he’s not the first snoop Ethel has sent after me,” Alice said. “She uses them to find out where I’m living, what name I’m using, and where I’m working. Then she systematically goes about getting me evicted and fired. It’s her idea of revenge.”

McCarson sat up nervously. “I was told you were blackmailing the Whitcomb family. They sent me to find out whatever I could so that they could send the cops after you.”

“Is that the story Ethel used this time?” Alice dropped her tote on a small table. “The last PI they hired to track me down thought he was looking for a long-lost daughter of the Whitcomb clan.”

“Look, I can explain this,” McCarson said. “It was just a job.”

Drake got to his feet. “No need to explain yourself to us. I’m going to call the cops. You can talk yourself hoarse to them.”

McCarson snorted. “Fine. But I can guarantee you that I won’t spend more than five minutes in jail, assuming the cops arrest me in the first place.”

Alice folded her arms and eyed McCarson with an air of acute disdain. “He’s right. It would be a waste of time to call the cops. And not in my best interests. You can bet that one way or the other, I’ll end up being questioned as a possible blackmailer. I know Ethel Whitcomb. I’ve been on the wrong end of this scenario often enough in the past year to know how it’s going to end. Ethel is engaged in a sophisticated form of stalking. She uses people like Mr. McCarson to do her dirty work for her.”

McCarson looked alarmed and somewhat offended. “Are you crazy? I’m a professional.”

Alice smiled her stage smile. “A professional stalker?”

“I’m not stalking you,” McCarson growled. “Like I said, I was told that you were blackmailing my client. Now, if you can prove otherwise—”

“She doesn’t have to prove anything,” Drake said. “You’re the one who broke in here tonight. Turns out I’m a witness. Convincing the police you’re not a stalker or a burglar will be your problem.”

“Go ahead, have it your way,” McCarson said. He shook his head. “But I’m telling you, you’re wasting your time. Ms. North is right in saying that the Whitcombs are powerful. They could buy and sell half of Resonance City. Who do you think the cops will believe?”

“I’m pretty sure they’ll take my word for what happened here tonight,” Drake said.

“Yeah?” McCarson looked amused. “Who do you think you are?”

“Drake Sebastian. My family owns Sebastian, Inc. Maybe you’ve heard of the firm. It could buy and sell Whitcomb Industries.”

McCarson groaned. “Ah, shit.”

“It gets better,” Drake said. “Among other things, we design and manufacture most of the high-tech security equipment and the psi-tronics that the local cops use. Sebastian, Inc. has a lot of connections with the Crystal City PD.”

McCarson grimaced. “Shit.”

“We’ve also got an excellent relationship with the local Ghost Hunters Guild. I could call in a favor from the Crystal City boss. Trust me when I tell you that the Whitcombs don’t have any influence over him. The Guilds have always been good at making problems disappear into the tunnels.”

McCarson exhaled heavily. “I believe you. You’ve made your point. I knew this job sounded a little too good to be true.”

“Unfortunately, pressing charges against you and making them stick would be more trouble than it’s worth,” Drake said. “I don’t have the time to spare. I think we might be able to resolve this situation to everyone’s satisfaction, however.”

McCarson eyed him with deep suspicion. “What’s it going to cost me?”

Drake smiled. “Your specialty: information.”