Heat Stroke Page 0,97

hot dogs from a sidewalk cafe and examined the problem as the sun slipped toward the horizon in smoky, obscured glory. Traffic continued to be heavy, dominated by yellow cabs; the entire block had become a secured no-parking zone, with sharp-eyed security personnel stationed at discreet but effective intervals. None of whom noticed us, of course. All part of that Djinn mystique.

I finally took a break from consuming preservatives to inquire if we had an actual plan in the offing.

Jonathan tossed back the last mouthful of a giant-sized cup of industrial-strength black coffee. He was loving the cuisine, which I guess was a break from home-cooked meals back at Rancho Impenetrable. "Best I can figure, your pals at the Wardens Association actually got off their asses for once and did the right thing. Rounded up Yvette, confiscated David's bottle-with him in it. Lewis must have gotten caught up in the raid."

"Not great," I said.

"Not really." He took a bite of hot dog. "You and I can't get into the vault where he's being kept. No Djinn can; we need a human for that, one with access. Problem is there aren't a whole lot of those falling off of trees. And once we're in the building, we're going to be at some pretty serious risk."

I put my hand on his arm and checked him for coldlight. He was lightly coated in it. I drew it to me, into me, left him clean and uncontaminated. He gave me a slow, half-lidded smile in response. Dimples. I'd never noticed them before. He probably didn't show them to just anybody.

"I'm fine," he said. "You?"

"Good." I licked relish from my fingertips and examined the Secretariat in Oversight. It was rich in history, of course, but there was one floor in particular that radiated into the power spectrum. The Wardens floor. Not just the residue of all of the powerful that had come and gone through those doors, either; this was here-and-now kind of energy, being radiated at an intense level. "Lots going on," I observed.

"It's a busy day." Laconic understatement from the master, as usual. I'd like to see what actually panics you, I thought, and then instantly knew that I didn't. No way in hell. "Storm rolling in."

I could feel charged fury in the air, particles churning and forming patterns and being flung apart by ever-expanding forces. The storm was out of control in the Atlantic, and heading this way. I turned out toward the sea and closed my eyes, drinking in the thick warm breeze, the muttering echoes of what was shaping up to be one hell of an early hurricane. At its present rate of growth, it was liable to come charging in to port packing wind speeds fast enough to blow the windows out of every shining building in its path. Experts said you couldn't bring down one of these skyscrapers with a storm, but they'd never seen the kind of power that was boiling out there.

Few people had, and lived to tell about it.

"Can't you do anything about that?" I asked. I felt genuinely spooked, every nerve stroked to a trembling edge by the touch of that wind.

"That? Sure." Nothing happened. I looked over at him, but he was still focused on the building. "What, you mean now?"

"It'll be a little late after it blows through here and Manhattan becomes the world's biggest junk shop."

His dark eyes flashed toward the horizon, then back to me. "I'm keeping it out to sea. Considering it's not the only damn thing going wrong, I think that's about the best I can do right now. Unless you think it's okay to turn the entire five-state area around Yellowstone into charcoal. Didn't anybody ever tell you that it's all about balance?"

Balance was great in theory. Not so great when you were having to make choices that would inevitably cost lives. I wasn't feeling up to godhood. "What about California? Or are you just calling it a loss and hoping Disneyland will set up an undersea kingdom park off the. west coast of Nevada?"

"Atlantis once had the best beaches." He shrugged. "Coastline changes are a matter of perspective. But no, actually. Lewis took care of that one. The earthquake's off."

Chapter Twenty-five

One crisis down. And speaking of Lewis ... I turned back to the building and studied it again, reading energy signatures. Ah. Of course.

"They've got him," I