The computer screen on the conference table switched from the start page to an image of the conference room in California. I couldn’t see David because we were arranged as if I was sitting next to him, but I had an excellent view of the rest of the room. The crowd was still in settling-down mode, with clumps of people at the coffee carafe, others peering at the tray of pastries, still others filling a glass with water from the cut-glass pitcher.
David’s voice, sounding aggrieved, came in loudly through the speakers on the computer on my end. “I can’t see Lin—Ms. Ellery.”
There was a barely heard apology from Chuck, the tech guy in LA, more mumbling from Ollie, but what really caught my attention was Qwendar. He stiffened, glanced at the computer screen, then looked over to where Palendar was filling a glass with water.
“Can you say something,” Ollie said. “Let’s see if we’ve at least got audio on their end.”
“Testing. Hello, Los Angeles,” I said, but distractedly because I was watching Qwendar walking swiftly toward Palendar.
“I got half of that, then the sound cut out.” David’s voice sounding even more exasperated.
“Ms. Ellery, can you hear us?” Chuck called.
“And how will we know since we can’t hear her?” David again, with scathing sarcasm.
“Oh, yeah, right.”
I started to send David a text telling him I could hear, but I nearly dropped my phone because while I watched, Qwendar seemed to lose his balance just as he reached Palendar and fell against him. The Álfar actor lost his grip on the cut-crystal glass, and it shattered on the bamboo floor. Qwendar, murmuring apologies, bent slowly and painfully as if to begin picking up the shards of glass.
It was like a lightening flash through the inside of my skull. I was back at Terra Sushi listening to Kiyumi describe the broken-teapot scene between Qwendar and Kerrinan: “They were both scrambling to pick up the pieces … and Kerrinan cut his palm on a shard of glass.”
Palendar hesitated, looking down at the bent head of the old Álfar. Qwendar looked up at him and said something that I couldn’t hear, but it had the blood rising into Palendar’s cheeks. He didn’t look happy, but he knelt down next to the old Álfar.
“David! David!” I yelled, coming half out of my chair.
“He can’t hear you. We still haven’t got the audio back,” Ollie said.
“Can you get him on camera for me?” I asked as I dove for my purse and yanked out my BlackBerry. My fingers flew across the keyboard as I sent David a text.
Don’t let Palendar touch the glass! Stop him from touching the glass!
I knew he usually kept his phone on vibrate. “Please look at it! Please look at it!” It was both a prayer and an order. The camera angle on my computer screen panned, and I could see David. I saw him glance down toward his belt. I sent another text.
Stop Palendar! Urgent! Danger!
David’s frown deepened and this time he reached down and unclipped his phone. His frown turned to one of puzzlement as he read my incoherent messages.
I sent another text.
No questions. Just do it!
David stood and moved away from the table.
“Keep him on camera,” I snapped at Ollie. He fiddled with the console, switching to a different camera on a different computer. The angle wasn’t great, but I could see David moving to the two kneeling men. Palendar had a large piece of glass in his hand. I saw Qwendar reach out and close his hand over the other Álfar’s and begin to squeeze. Then David was between them. Qwendar was forced to drop Palendar’s hand. A brief flash of anger skittered across his face, then the smooth facade was back.
And at that moment there were duel cries of triumph from the bicoastal tech gurus. “Got her! She’s connected now.”
Qwendar glanced at the computer screen and reacted when he saw me. An emotion I couldn’t identify twisted his face, then he moved quickly away from the detritus of broken glass.
My phone chimed. I had a text from David.
What the hell is going on???!
Explain later, I replied.
I threw myself back into my chair. Qwendar thought that because they couldn’t see me, I couldn’t see them. Thank God most of the Powers are clueless about technology.
But I was left with a bigger problem. What was I going to do? I had no proof. All I had was suspicion based on a conversation with a girl at a Japanese restaurant. But what if Qwendar and Jondin had contact? My God, he had been on the Warner lot that day. I had seen him in the restaurant having lunch with Diggins. My chest felt too small to hold air, and the half-muffaletta lay in my stomach like a stone.
I stood. “Mr. Sullivan, everyone. I’m sorry, but I’m suddenly not feeling well. If you’ll excuse me.” I fled from the conference room.
In the bathroom I splashed water on my face, not worrying about the effect on my makeup. I scraped back my hair and met my own gaze in the mirror. I wanted to run to the airport, and grab any flight heading west. But if I did that it would it tip off Qwendar that I was on to him. Had I already tipped him off with my precipitous flight from the conference? I needed to go back and sit through the morning’s testimony. The time difference between LA and New York had already dictated that it would be a half-day session.
Now I just needed to get an earlier flight instead of the red-eye back to Los Angeles.
And make sure Palendar stayed away from Qwendar. Wasn’t sure how I was going to do that.
And convince David I wasn’t crazy. That should be fun.
I composed my features and returned to the conference room to listen to testimony while trying not to look at Qwendar the entire time. Turned out that was the hardest thing I did all day.
Testimony ended at three thirty New York time. Norma had actually leaped into action and changed my ticket for a flight out of LaGuardia at 6:10 p.m. It was going to be tight, but I could make it if the traffic gods were kind. Everything with Norma was fraught, and this time was no exception. She made it very clear that it had been a huge hassle and had cost the firm an additional four hundred dollars, but I was going to arrive in Los Angeles at midnight instead of early tomorrow morning. I was throwing papers into my briefcase when Norma loomed in the door.
“Mr. Bryce is here.”
“What? Now? Why? Does he have an appointment? Of course not.”
“Would you like me to answer any of those questions, or are you going to keep on talking to yourself?”
“Sorry. Look, tell him I can’t see him right now. I’ve got a plane to catch.”
“So, let me drive you,” came a cultured British accent from the doorway. Jolyon Bryce, midforties with silver-touched brown hair, rolled his wheelchair the rest of the way into my office. He gave me a sweet smile that made his rather plain face handsome and lit up his blue eyes.
“Are you here in the capacity of client or as Vento’s daddy?” I asked, returning his smile.
“Vento’s daddy.” Then he added gently, “And as a friend who wanted to see if you were all right after all your adventures in Hollywood.” I hesitated. “Come on, Linnie, I’m cheaper than a cab and probably more comfortable, and I drive very fast.”
Norma gave a sniff. “Well, that’d convince me to take a cab. Why do they let cripples drive anyway?” She left. In an agony of embarrassment I looked over at Jolly, who burst out laughing.
“Your assistant is an original.”
“I guess that’s one way to put it. Okay, you can drive me to the airport.” I grabbed my overnight case, my rolling briefcase-computer bag, and my purse and followed him out of the office.
Jolly’s car was parked just down the street in a handicapped space. It was a zippy little silver turbo-charged BMW sedan. “We’ll put your luggage in the backseat. My chair has to go in the trunk,” he explained as he hit the key to unlock the car. “Would you mind putting my chair away for me? Then we don’t have to bother one of these nice doormen.”