describe a smaller oval. The tall, gaunt woman holding the end of the little pointer’s chain shifted her wrist until the oval spiraled in to an ever-diminishing circle over one spot on the face of the central United States.
“There, isn’t it as I have told you?” the woman said with a triumphant look. Her dark eyes seemed to have a red fire within them as they focused on the man in the upholstered armchair with his legs propped on the foot of the bed. “It chooses this place.”
“Bah,” Everette Beach said, rolling his pale eyes up to the stark white paint of the hotel ceiling. He had short, light-brown hair shot with gray. The thin nostrils in his spare face made it look as if he was always recoiling from smelling something bad. “There are six hundred square miles in this area. I expect you to pinpoint exactly where you think this ‘psychic realm’ is located. I want an address, not a general area. We need to find that energy cell.”
“It does not cry out ‘I am here,’” Maria Katale said surlily. She sat with her back very straight in the pseudo Louis XIV chair. “It beckons. It hints. You did not tell me that United States is so big. The power broadcasts its influence over a larger area.”
The stocky, dark-haired man beside her cleared his throat. “In our country, the area she shows you would be much smaller. At least she gives you where to seek.”
“I can’t help it if your education didn’t include geography lessons,” Beach said. “I had the impression that your original target was farther south than Chicago. Now your circle stretches all the way from Milwaukee to Springfield. I’m not impressed. I don’t want to go back and tell them you brought us here so you could do some shopping.”
“It is not me; it is the spirit guides,” Maria said. “If first they say it is south and now they say it is north, what of that? The spirits do not anchor themselves in the physical world. They give me the impression, the clue. We must seek on our own. I will tell you if we meet the true magic. It is here.”
Beach, disgusted, flung himself to his feet and glared down at Maria. Stefan stood up between them; his five-foot-eight frame an inadequate bulwark against their employer’s six-foot-two. “She knows, Mr. Beach. She was much respected in the … old regime. She is genuine. Just because you do not like her answers does not mean she is of no use to you.”
Beach threw up his hands. “I want answers, not impressions, Stefan. I’m not saying I believe in all this mumbo-jumbo. If it exists, I want to lay my hands on a source of genuine magic. If it exists. I’m still not saying I believe you. I could have gotten better results tossing a dart at a board.”
“You must not doubt Maria,” Stefan said firmly. “Our … former … government respects her highly.”
“If she’s so good why don’t you have … our target … already in your possession? Why would you need to work with me?”
“Money,” Stefan said. “Maria is exact, but she finds by circling around her prey, like a cat. It takes time, and we could not afford the search on our own. So we are willing to share the fruit of our efforts. We have the same goal, eh?”
“I doubt it,” Beach said. An expatriate Australian who had served in numerous U.N. peacekeeping missions, Beach had had a chance to see the vast difference between the haves and have-nots in the world. More problems could be attributed to the curse of capitalism than would ever make the headlines of any newspaper—after all, they were owned by organs of the rich. He had quit, taking his connections with him, and set out with a new goal in mind: To rid the world of pernicious Western influence. Money. There was too damned much money in this country, none of it flowing into the right pockets, the pockets of the people. Capitalism enriched the very few out of the labor of the millions. The world was overbalanced in favor of the big guys. Everette was
“There, isn’t it as I have told you?” the woman said with a triumphant look. Her dark eyes seemed to have a red fire within them as they focused on the man in the upholstered armchair with his legs propped on the foot of the bed. “It chooses this place.”
“Bah,” Everette Beach said, rolling his pale eyes up to the stark white paint of the hotel ceiling. He had short, light-brown hair shot with gray. The thin nostrils in his spare face made it look as if he was always recoiling from smelling something bad. “There are six hundred square miles in this area. I expect you to pinpoint exactly where you think this ‘psychic realm’ is located. I want an address, not a general area. We need to find that energy cell.”
“It does not cry out ‘I am here,’” Maria Katale said surlily. She sat with her back very straight in the pseudo Louis XIV chair. “It beckons. It hints. You did not tell me that United States is so big. The power broadcasts its influence over a larger area.”
The stocky, dark-haired man beside her cleared his throat. “In our country, the area she shows you would be much smaller. At least she gives you where to seek.”
“I can’t help it if your education didn’t include geography lessons,” Beach said. “I had the impression that your original target was farther south than Chicago. Now your circle stretches all the way from Milwaukee to Springfield. I’m not impressed. I don’t want to go back and tell them you brought us here so you could do some shopping.”
“It is not me; it is the spirit guides,” Maria said. “If first they say it is south and now they say it is north, what of that? The spirits do not anchor themselves in the physical world. They give me the impression, the clue. We must seek on our own. I will tell you if we meet the true magic. It is here.”
Beach, disgusted, flung himself to his feet and glared down at Maria. Stefan stood up between them; his five-foot-eight frame an inadequate bulwark against their employer’s six-foot-two. “She knows, Mr. Beach. She was much respected in the … old regime. She is genuine. Just because you do not like her answers does not mean she is of no use to you.”
Beach threw up his hands. “I want answers, not impressions, Stefan. I’m not saying I believe in all this mumbo-jumbo. If it exists, I want to lay my hands on a source of genuine magic. If it exists. I’m still not saying I believe you. I could have gotten better results tossing a dart at a board.”
“You must not doubt Maria,” Stefan said firmly. “Our … former … government respects her highly.”
“If she’s so good why don’t you have … our target … already in your possession? Why would you need to work with me?”
“Money,” Stefan said. “Maria is exact, but she finds by circling around her prey, like a cat. It takes time, and we could not afford the search on our own. So we are willing to share the fruit of our efforts. We have the same goal, eh?”
“I doubt it,” Beach said. An expatriate Australian who had served in numerous U.N. peacekeeping missions, Beach had had a chance to see the vast difference between the haves and have-nots in the world. More problems could be attributed to the curse of capitalism than would ever make the headlines of any newspaper—after all, they were owned by organs of the rich. He had quit, taking his connections with him, and set out with a new goal in mind: To rid the world of pernicious Western influence. Money. There was too damned much money in this country, none of it flowing into the right pockets, the pockets of the people. Capitalism enriched the very few out of the labor of the millions. The world was overbalanced in favor of the big guys. Everette was
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