License to Ensorcell (35 page)

“Not yet,” she said. “The really odd thing is, they looked perfectly healthy when they came in. Well, aside from being dead.”

On the off chance that a disease had indeed caused the rapid decay, I ran an SM: Danger check on the room behind us. It picked up nothing but a faint whisper of old peril averted. Unfortunately, I had to keep this good news quiet. The tech made a phone call and discovered that on coroner’s orders, the dead men’s clothing had been placed in isolation in sterile containers.

“I’ll have to look into that for you,” she told me. “I’ll pass the information on to Homicide when I get it.”

With that we could make our escape. I needed open air. While Ari fetched the car from the underground lot, I stood on the sidewalk in front of City Hall and luxuriated in pale sunlight. Across the street in Civic Center Plaza, the rows of plane trees lifted bare branches to the clearing sky. A few homeless men sat on one of the benches under the trees, merely sat, barely speaking, wrapped in odds and ends of torn sweaters and jackets. Immediately behind me rose the high gray steps that led up to the glass and gilded bronze facade of City Hall.

I walked back and forth and put some hard thought into what I’d just seen until a cab pulled up and distracted me. A Chinese-American man in a business suit got out, not very tall, with thinning gray hair, carrying a briefcase, absolutely nothing unusual about him except he looked extremely familiar. As he hurried up the steps toward the ornate doors of City Hall I realized that rather than being someone I personally knew, he was Vic Yee, the investigative reporter who’d broken the story about the Army’s attempt to impound the Portals monument. If he’d come down to City Hall on the track of a story, it would be something more subtle and probably more important in the long run than the sensational death of the Silver Bullet Killer.

I wondered if he’d heard about the disintegrating corpses. It seemed unlikely, but I hoped he had. If the coroner was holding any information back, Yee would ferret it out. By the time Ari drove up, I had a theory of my own. I got into the front seat and buckled on the safety belt.

“Any ideas about the decay?” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. “It looks like more evidence for the deviant level theory. I’ll have to consult with the Agency expert before I can be sure.”

“You’ve not been sure about any of this,” Ari said. “Carry on.”

“Okay, here’s what I’ve learned so far, mostly from the expert’s e-mails. If deviant levels exist, every one of them is going to have its own individual nature. Anything that exists within them will be part of that nature, not ours, and that includes human bodies. She told me that the atoms of our bodies are sort of woven into the structure of our universe. We don’t exist like eggs in a basket, separated by shells from everything around us. We’re actually one of the properties of space-time. It’s kind of like a tapestry or embroidery. You can’t just cut one motif out of it. It’ll unravel. Okay?”

“I’m following you so far, yes.”

“Our two Chaotics were in the wrong level, not the one they were born in. Here’s my theory, and it hasn’t been confirmed, okay? They were cutouts from the cloth, and so they could unravel. The matter in their bodies would be unstable while they’re here, especially without the life force to sustain them.”

“That last makes no sense at all. Life force?”

“Ever read Henri Bergson?”

“He’s not that Swedish filmmaker, is he?”

“No, that’s Ingmar Bergman.”

“Sorry.”

I waited to continue until Ari finished swerving around a sudden pedestrian.

“But anyway, I can’t really explain what I mean by life force,” I said. “I’ve got an intuitive grasp of it, but I can’t put it any more clearly than that.”

“Very well, then.”

Ari laid on the horn and blasted the slow SUV ahead of us into the right lane. I decided that the secrets of the universe could wait till we got home alive, assuming we did.

But what would this effect mean for Michael, I wondered, if it were true that his substance belonged in our part of the multiverse to the exclusion of all others? He was wandering somewhere out of place, out of touch, the most lost of all possible lost boys. If he got so much as a cut finger in that other world, would the rot set in and spread?

“We’ve got to get Mike back,” I said. “Fast.”

“Quite so,” Ari said. “The question is how.”

“I’m beginning to get an idea.”

I brooded the idea all the way back to the apartment. Although I called Sean as soon as I got in, his line was busy. I changed out of the suit into a decent pair of jeans and a new top, pale gray with a green watercolor print and a deep V neck that I figured Ari would like. He did.

“A question,” I said. “If you’re on admin leave, why did Sanchez call you?”

“He pretended to forget. The leave’s not from his department, after all.” He smiled at me. “But he did it because of you, not me. He’s out of his depth. He knows it, he can’t admit it, but he’s good enough at his job to do something about it. The coroner’s already brought in the federal-level health people, but your agency’s part of the security apparatus. You have need to know.”

“Right. And I have need to file another report. Calling Sean can wait a few minutes.”

I considered contacting Y directly, then decided that using TranceWeb to file an official paper, where others could see and read it, would be a more efficient way to get the word out. Composing this report went fast and easily, compared to the ensorcellment filing. When I finished, I marked it “TOP PRIORITY” and “URGENT.” I also sent my theory about the life force—Bergson’s élan vital—to NumbersGrrl, then checked my personnel file. A brief message waited for me. “Ensorcellment report taken under advisement.” Nothing more.

“Well,” I said, “I haven’t been placed on leave yet.”

“Good,” Ari said. “At least one of us isn’t in limbo.”

“That’s true. I need to act fast before they put me there.”

Sean’s phone persisted in being busy. I took the opportunity to check TranceWeb again and found two things, a terse confirmation that my report on the corpses had been received, and an e-mail from NumbersGrrl. I read it twice, then logged out again.

“Hope!” I said.

“What?” Ari said.

“If my speculation’s right about the deviant levels and Michael and all that, then the most likely thing is that he’s in some version of San Francisco, just one or two levels away, that is. I had a few dark fears, like maybe he’d been dumped into interstellar space or on some other planet.”

“Do you watch a lot of science fiction films?”

“I’ve been known to, yeah. Why?”

Ari set his hands on his hips and scowled at me. I got the point.

“Well, all right, maybe the interstellar space idea was kind of far-fetched,” I said. “Still, the news is good. My idea just might work, after all.”

CHAPTER 13

WHEN I FINALLY GOT HOLD OF SEAN, about an hour past noon, he told me that Aunt Eileen had already called him. She’d invited him and his partner, Albert Wong, over to the Houlihan house. She’d included Ari and me in the invitation because she knew Sean and I would want to discuss finding Michael.

“I told her we’d bring some food,” Sean said. “She feeds all of us too often as it is.”

“Bless her heart!” I meant it sincerely. “Will Al be coming with you?”

“Sure. It’s Uncle Jim’s bowling night, so we’ll only have to put up with Mister-I’m-Tolerant-I-Tell-You-Tolerant for a couple of hours.”

“Ah, come on, Sean! He’s trying. It’s better than Al’s dad, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, I have to admit that. At least Al hasn’t been consigned to the outer darkness of complete non-existence like I have.”

“It’ll be good to see you guys. Do you think Al could make one of his special lasagnas? I’ve love to have some of that again.”

“Ohmigawd! The end of the world is upon us.”

“Say what?”

In the background I could hear Al asking the same thing. “Nola wants some of your special lasagna.” Sean’s voice became briefly fainter. “Yeah, the apocalypse is upon us, for sure.”

“Oh, come off it,” I said. “I’m not that bad.”

“Yes, you are. The last time you were faced with Al’s lasagna, you did a caloric analysis of it, layer by layer.”

“Did I really?”

“Yes, you did. Complete with estimated fat grams.”

“Tell Al I apologize.”

Sean did so. I could hear Al speaking.

“He says in that case he’ll make the lasagna,” Sean said.

“Cool! How come he’s not at work?”

“Furlough day. He’s doing his share to keep the state of California from sinking slowly into the west.”

“Well, then, when can you get over to the house? I need your help finding something.”

“I think our esteemed aunt told me something about that, but it was garbled and really weird. Deviant levels of the multiverse? Michael’s in one of them? You got to be kidding.”

“I wish I was. I’ll explain when I see you.”

“Okay, we’ll get there as soon as we can. Al can always make the lasagna over there. He and Aunt Eileen love to cook together anyway. What about your hunky new boyfriend?”

“I can’t believe Aunt Eileen called him hunky.”

“Of course not, but she made him sound hunky.”

“Well, he kind of is, yeah. He’ll be there, so you can see for yourself.”

I ended the call to find Ari watching me with the reproachful stare. “What have I done now?” I said.

“What does hunky mean?”

“Sexy and good-looking, just like you are.”

He made a sour face and snarled, but his SPP told me that he was flattered.

When we returned to Aunt Eileen’s, Sean opened the door. He’s the other natural beauty in our family, wavy black hair, brooding dark blue eyes, a full mouth and chiseled cheekbones, a slender body that he keeps reasonably well-muscled. He also trembles a lot, which detracts from the overall effect, though Al has told me that when Sean’s asleep and still, he’s almost too beautiful to be real. If I were still a believer, I’d thank God daily for Al, solid, loving Al who keeps my brother in one piece and reasonably sane.

I introduced Ari, who smiled and reached out to shake Sean’s hand. Sean recoiled as if Ari had pulled a gun on him, then blushed scarlet at the gaffe.

“I’m sorry.” Sean was looking at me with begging eyes. “I don’t mean to be insulting.”

“What?” Ari said in his typical subtle way. “Do you have a phobia about germs?”

“No.” Sean swallowed heavily and took a step back. “You just shot someone, didn’t you? I mean, not just now, but like, recently. He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Ari gaped at him.

“Sweetheart,” I said, “why don’t you go say hi to Aunt Eileen in the kitchen? And meet Al. You’ll like Al. He’s normal.”

Like a good soldier Ari followed orders and marched off, though he did turn at the entrance to the hall and stare for a moment before going on. Sean continued trembling and rubbed his beautiful mouth with a perfect hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Nola, how can you sleep with that guy? He scares the hell out of me.”

“I noticed. Come on, calm down.” I slipped my arm through his in the hopes of steadying him. He leaned against me and quivered at a slightly lower register.

“Your boyfriend, he did just kill someone, didn’t he?”

“He’s a cop, Sean. He was part of the Silver Bullet Killer task force. He’s the one who brought down the guy who murdered Pat.”

Sean took a deep breath, which slowed the trembling. “Okay, that’s different,” he said. “Aunt Eileen told me that you were shot at, too.”

“Yeah, I sure was, but the creep missed.” I decided against telling Sean that I would have been dead except for Ari’s intervention. While the thought would have sweetened his opinion of Ari, he might have blacked out. He does that at times, when he hears overwhelming news.

Arm in arm we wandered outside to the backyard, Uncle Jim’s great love in life, a long stretch of perfect lawn bordered by cottage-garden flower beds, in summer a welter of color and scent set off here and there by flagstone paths. A squirrel chattered in the maroon leaves of the Japanese maple. Sean and I sat down on a white bench under the bare branches of an ancient gnarled apple tree. Among the flowers and growing things, Sean took another deep breath and stopped trembling.

“I’m sorry I insulted your boyfriend,” he said. “These things just jump out sometimes.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll apologize to him if you say so.”

“No, I’ll explain it to him later. He understands about the family. He’s not a local police officer, by the way. He’s from Interpol, and he’ll be leaving the States soon, so it’s not like you’ll have to see him at every family gathering.”

“Another guy who’s going to leave you?”

“Yeah. I pick them for it, I think.”