Devil s Due Page 0,77

plastic muffled and distorted her voice, but she was pretty sure the others could hear her. Jazz lifted her hands and dropped them. McCarthy shook his head.

Simms said, "Obviously, somebody's delivered gas into this building."

"Lethal?" Lucia's mind went to the drums of chemicals back at the warehouse.

"No. Wait, please."

If anything had happened in the other rooms, there was no indication at all. No sound. The minutes seemed to drag on, and on, and on. Simms waited, watching the second hand of his watch, and then moved to the door and opened it.

Gregory Ivanovich was nowhere in sight. A chair sat empty where he'd been. No signs of struggle.

Simms led them toward the elevators. As they passed the conference room, Lucia slowed and looked in.

Empty chairs, pushed back unevenly from the table. A handprint on the glass, smudging the sunlight. An overturned cup, with coffee dripping from the edge of the table onto the floor.

There were drag marks on the carpet.

She heard the steady chop of a helicopter - no, helicopters. She dashed forward to look out of the window just as three large black aircraft gained the sky and headed for the far horizon.

Where had they come from?

"Eidolon," she whispered. Her breath fogged the plastic of the gas mask. "Son of a bitch. You're working with them."

Simms took her by the elbow and silently walked her from the conference room out to the lobby. He hit the button for the elevator and stood with his hands behind his back, bouncing on his toes as if he had energy to burn. He hadn't taken off the mask. Lucia felt sweat trickling down the sides of her face and itched to rip the thing away, but she didn't dare. What the hell had just happened? How had Eidolon pulled that off? Not without help, that much was sure...

McCarthy's hand touched hers and twined around it, holding fast. She looked at him, but he was staring straight ahead, face unreadable under the gas mask. She shook free.

Once they were in the elevator and the doors had shut, Simms stripped off his gas mask. Jazz was yelling even before hers hit the floor. "What in the hell was that, you asshole? What the hell is going on?"

"I just saved your lives," Simms said. "Well, Jazz, yours and Ben's. Lucia's survival has always been assured."

"Excuse me?" Lucia tossed her gas mask in a pile with the others. The elevator continued down to the parking level, dinged and disgorged them into the empty structure. No sign of the limousine that had delivered them. Simms looked momentarily nonplussed, and then smiled as a shadow rumbled at the top of the ramp and started down.

Manny's black Hummer, glossy and impenetrable in the light. He was driving.

James Borden was in the passenger seat. He jumped out as the vehicle squealed to a stop, and threw open all the doors.

"In the car," Simms said. "This isn't safe."

That, Lucia thought, was the understatement of the century.

"You're in on this?" Jazz asked Manny, when they'd piled into the SUV and pulled out of the parking lot. Simms was in the back, with Borden and McCarthy; Jazz and Lucia were up front. Not that Lucia was happy having Simms at her back, but she wouldn't be any happier having him next to her.

Manny shot Jazz a near-panicked look. "In on what?"

"The Cross Society crap. Whatever crack dream conspiracy this is!"

"What?"

Jazz got control of herself, or at least enough to take in a couple of deep breaths. "Why did you show up?"

"Borden said you needed a ride. Jazz, you know I don't like strangers in my car. Who is he?"

Jazz looked over her shoulder at Borden, then at Simms. She turned around and started to answer, but Borden cut her off. "We can talk about this at the warehouse."

"No freakin' way am I taking a stranger to my house," Manny said. He stared at Simms in the rearview mirror. Simms stared back. "No freakin' way."

Simms looked away and said, as if he were talking to thin air, "Ben, how did you locate the unmarked spot where Mr. Glickman had been buried alive?"

Manny braked. Cars honked all around them, and he blinked and hit the gas. Going a little too fast, this time.

"Answer the question, Ben," Simms said gently.

"I followed the leads. I worked the case. So did Jazz."

"Yes, but you had something Jazz didn't, isn't that true?"

"Don't."

"You had luck."

"Not everything is your goddamn psychic powers at work, Simms."

"Not everything," Simms agreed. "And you would