Devil s Bargin Page 0,26

board members who are, shall we say, alumni of that firm. However, you needn't worry. Max Simms no longer has the legal standing to associate himself with any organization, nonprofit or otherwise." He had a self-satisfied smile. Jazz wasn't sure she approved of it. "Apart from seeing a complete roster of our clients, what can I do to set your mind at ease about the offer we've extended? I understand it's unusual - "

"Unusual?" Jazz interrupted. "Try crazy. You want to give us money for no good reason? You don't even know us. And how exactly do we fit in with a bunch of scientists and spies, anyway? What makes us a good investment for their money?"

The door opened again. She expected Pansy, but instead, it was Lawyer Borden, strolling in with a chunky-looking coffee mug in his hand. He passed it over to Laskins, who accepted it with a nod. Casual. It almost hid the tension in his shoulders and back.

"Everything okay?" Borden asked without looking at Laskins. He was watching Jazz. She felt a touch of heat in her cheeks. "Enjoying the guided tour of my drawers?"

They'd been monitored. No getting around it. She couldn't believe Lucia hadn't picked it up...and then she wondered if Lucia had, and simply hadn't cared. She wasn't sure which one was more unsettling.

"It's not been very enlightening," she said. "Okay, give. What's the catch? You give us money, we open a detective firm. Presuming we're willing to do that, I'm supposing that the Cross Society isn't in this to perform a public service or they'd give it to the homeless shelter down the block, right? So what's their angle?"

Laskins and Borden exchanged a look. Laskins sipped coffee.

"I cannot answer for the society," Laskins said. "It would be a conflict of interest."

"Right. Whatever." Jazz rolled her eyes. "I'm thinking you have about ten seconds to start making sense, or the two of us walk out of here, tear up your check and go about our lives. Poorer and sadder, maybe, but - "

"We'd send you cases," Borden said. "Not many, maybe one a month, if that. Nothing big, for the most part. Escort duty, stakeouts, surveillance."

"I knew it," Lucia said, and stood up. "You're trying to set us up for something illegal."

"No, I promise, it's nothing like that. We're not in that business, and neither is the Cross Society." Borden spread his hands. Jazz's eyes followed the sweep of those long, elegant fingers, then snapped back to his face. "You'd be paid for each case. Regular billing rates. The only thing is that we'd expect our designated cases to take priority."

It sounded reasonable. Surprisingly reasonable. Jazz glanced at Lucia and experienced that surge of communication again.

"In writing," Lucia said. "No offense, but your word of honor is meaningless if we don't know you. Also, we'd need to talk to these people at the Society."

"That won't be possible," Borden said. "Before you get upset about it, there's nothing mysterious going on, it's just that most of the members travel extensively. Our word is binding to them. We have their power of attorney."

"How do we know they even exist?" Jazz asked. "Maybe you guys are the Cross Society. Maybe this is just a way for you to funnel drug money through the system."

"If so, it's an extraordinarily stupid way to go about it," Laskins said waspishly, and frowned at Borden. "Can you handle this on your own? I really should be attending the meeting with Richmond and Fieles. God only knows what they'll bargain away if they're not supervised."

"Yes, sir." Borden nodded. "I can handle it."

Laskins gave him a cynical twist of his lips that was not exactly a smile. "I'll hold you to that, my boy." He put the mug of coffee aside and left without another word.

Borden opened up the folder - the one containing the partnership paperwork - and handed Jazz and Lucia each a bound copy of what must have been a hundred pages of legalese.

"Let's go through it step-by-step," he said.

Jazz looked at the pound of paperwork and sighed.

"Maybe I'll have that espresso after all," she said.

Chapter 4

Two hours later, they had a catered lunch in a quiet, cavelike boardroom, with indirect lighting and a silently playing plasma-screen TV showing the latest disaster footage on one of the news channels. Just her, Lucia and Borden; Counselor Laskins hadn't returned from his other meeting, thank God, so they were able to order sandwiches instead of some impress-the-boss spread. Jazz stuck