On the street below, cars and hotel shuttles continued to cruise the Strip, gamblers unwil ing or unable to stop even in the middle of the night. I dashed cold water in my eyes to clear my head.
OK. Time to take a chance on O’Hal oran having gone to bed. I had to hope that abduction made for a tiring day for him.
Zed?
Nothing. I probed the darkness in my head, feeling the absence of the muffling blanket that had been in place in the car. That gave me hope that O’Hal oran had dropped the shield.
Zed? Can you hear me?
No reply. I pressed my fingers to my temples.
Concentrate. Perhaps Zed was asleep too?
No, he wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t be sleeping knowing I’d been taken. He’d be straining to hear the least word from me. Perhaps what I was trying was impossible?
I paced the room for a moment, my toes sinking into the deep pile of the rug.
Or maybe I just didn’t know what I was doing? I thought back through the things Zed had told me about telepathy, how he had made contact with me despite himself. He’d said I was a bridge.
Perhaps it would work like shielding, but in reverse? Opening up and building a link rather than closing down and constructing barriers?
I tried again, imagining I was building a thin arching bridge between my mind and Zed’s. I saw it like an image stretching out of a comic book frame, breaking the conventions to close the distance to the next picture.
After an hour of migraine-inducing thought, I felt a change, a subtle flow of energy in the other direction.
Zed?
Sky? His thoughts sounded faint, moving in and out of reach like a thread of a cobweb dancing in the wind.
I’m in Vegas.
His shock was clear enough. You can’t … How can you … me … Vegas?
You tell me. You’re the savant, remember?
… miracle …
I’m OK. They’ve got me on the top floor of theFortune Teller.
Can’t … you. Breaking …
Fortune Teller. Top floor.
My head was screaming with the pain of maintaining the bridge but I was determined to get my message through.
I … you.
He wasn’t hearing me. I repeated my location.
… love you…. come for you.
No!
Easier … closer.
No, no. It’s a trap. The bridge was col apsing. I could feel it going, feel my stomach churning, head pounding. Just a moment longer. I love you too, butdon’t come. It’s what they want.
Sky! He’d felt the link fracture, scrambling my last words.
‘Zed.’ I was on the floor, perspiration running down my back, nausea gripping my stomach. I crawled on hands and knees to the bathroom and was sick.
Though shaky, I felt a little better for it. Hauling myself to the bed, I fel on the covers face down and passed out.
I did not wake properly
until mid morning. The sky
was a pale blue through the tinted windows, tiny puffs of cloud smudging the perfect surface. Feeling numb, I cleaned my teeth with the hotel-supplied brush and paste and got dressed. It seemed odd to be wearing shorts in the middle of winter but the climate control ed environment of the hotel meant it was always summer inside. My stomach growled. I investigated the contents of the mini bar and helped myself to a chocolate biscuit and bottle of Coke, then sat down to wait. I was in the middle of a crisis but things were strangely calm. The eye of the storm.
I didn’t dare risk trying to contact Zed again.
O’Hal oran would probably be up and about and I didn’t know enough about shield-busting to give it a go. I just hoped Zed got my message not to come rushing in. We needed a plan to get me out, not a second hostage.
There was a knock at the door. Not behaviour I expected of my kidnappers. It opened to reveal Gator carrying a tray.
‘Rise and shine, cupcake. You slept wel ?’
‘Not real y.’
Ignoring this, Gator dumped the tray on a table by the window. ‘Breakfast. Eat quickly. The boss wants to see you.’
I wasn’t sure I could manage anything. Deciding not to rile him by refusing co-operation over so smal a thing, I lifted the lid. Nope, I couldn’t stomach those eggs. I sipped at the orange juice and nibbled a slice of toast instead. Gator didn’t leave. He stood at the window pretending to shoot at the birds flying over the buildings, giving me a good view of his ponytail which he’d secured back with a leather tie.
He seemed in a cheerful mood, not at al on edge for someone who was part of a kidnapping. It struck me then that whoever was behind this must control this entire hotel or Gator would be less relaxed about holding me here.
‘I’ve had enough, thanks.’ I stood up. The fact that I was meeting the boss face to face did not bode wel for what they had planned for me. I tried to think up a scenario where they didn’t kil me to protect their identities at the end of this and couldn’t imagine one.
‘OK, let’s go.’ He took a firm grip of my upper arm and marched me out into the hal way. We turned left, walked past the elevator and on into a waiting area.
Through the frosted windows, I could see people sitting around a boardroom table. Gator knocked once, waited for the green light, then entered with me in tow.
Fear made the images sharp. I tried to absorb as much information as I could just in case by some miracle I did get free. Three people sat at the table.
My eyes were drawn to the oldest: a man with dyed black hair and dodgy tan, punching away at his BlackBerry. His suit screamed designer, though his choice in ties did not: today’s a tangerine shade that clashed with his skin. He had the seat at the head.
On either side sat a younger man and a woman. The family resemblance was strong enough for me to hazard a guess that these were his children or close relatives.
‘Here she is, Mr Kel y. I’l wait outside.’ Gator gave me a little push towards the table and walked out.
Mr Kel y sat looking at me without speaking for a while, his fingers touching in an arch. The others were clearly waiting for him to make the first move, which left me stranded. I knew only that the Benedicts had helped in the conviction of two of the Kel y family. From the way he sat so confidently in the head chair, I guessed I was looking at the famous Daniel Kel y himself, head of the Kel y business empire, the man whose face appeared more regularly in the business pages than Donald Trump and Richard Branson combined.
‘Come here.’ Kel y beckoned me closer.
Reluctantly, I walked round the table.
‘O’Hal oran said you are a savant?’
‘I don’t know.’ I tucked my hands in my pockets to disguise the fact that they were trembling.
‘You are. I can tel . It’s a shame real y that you’ve been caught up in this.’ He flashed me an unapologetic grin, displaying improbably even teeth.
The man on his right stirred. ‘Dad, are you sure the Benedicts wil trade themselves for her?’
‘Yes, they wil try. They won’t be able to stop themselves trying to protect an innocent like her.’
The younger Kel y poured a cup of coffee. ‘And the police? They must be involved by now.’
‘They wil never be able to trace it back to us. And she wil tel them exactly what I tel her to say.’ Mr Kel y leaned back in his chair. ‘Fascinating. There are such dark spaces in her mind.’
I stepped back in alarm. He was reading my mind somehow. Zed had said I always gave too much away to another savant. I threw up wal s as fast as I could.