Chasing the White Lion by James Hannibal (mind reading books .TXT) 📕

Talia didn’t fight. She lowered her weapon. “Val?”

The grifter pulled her in close. “I’m so glad to see you. Comms are down.”

“I know. What are you doing?”

“I heard you start the journey back before we lost the connection. I came out to help, but—”

“But you couldn’t get far in this nightmare.” Talia let Val lead her back along the passage. “I understand. Thank you.”

“What are fake sisters for?”

IN THE SAFETY OF THE ROOM, Talia collapsed onto her bed. She let her gun and her high-tech glasses lie beside her. “I have to get back out there—figure out who took those kids.” She barely had enough energy to speak the words, let alone put them to action.

She fought through the exhaustion. “Val,” she called from the bed. “We have to figure out what happened to the comm link.”

“I think I know. Come see.”

The grifter had used the edge of a P3Q magazine to pry the top off Eddie’s hockey puck, wisely unplugging the device first. The inside smelled like burned sugar.

Talia wrinkled her nose. “He did say this thing draws tons of power.”

“Think we can fix it?”

“We can try.”

A few parts were blackened, but only one wire had burned all the way through. Using Val’s magazine, Talia scraped away the charred pieces. “They won’t reach. We’ll have to improvise.”

They both looked around the room and settled on the same idea, saying it out loud at the same time. “Desk lamp.”

It took nearly half an hour of hard work to saw through the desk lamp’s cord with a dull knife from the kitchen and strip away the insulation. Talia wound the ends of her extension piece to the damaged wires. Once she was clear, she gave Val a nod. “Give it a go.”

The grifter plugged in the device.

Talia flipped the switch and raised the antenna. Her earpiece crackled.

“Talia? Val? Come in. Do you read?”

“Eddie.” Talia pushed out a fist for Val and received a knuckle bump.

The grifter dropped the kitchen knife on the desk. “Your dumb hockey puck died. Nice work.”

Continuous static masked Eddie’s voice. “It’s not a hockey puck. It’s an improvised VHF burn-through transmitter-receiver.”

“Well, it burned through, all right.”

Talia tried not to laugh as she waved her off. “Eddie, the wiring couldn’t handle the power draw. We fried one. Do you have a work-around?”

“Figured as much. I came up with a plan. I’ll talk you through it.”

The kitchen knife and the spare wire from the lamp helped, along with a resistor they dug out of the lamp’s base, common in LED lighting, according to Eddie. Soon, they had a solution, and the static vanished.

“The signal’s clear,” Eddie said, a caution in his tone, “but we’ve lost range.”

Talia didn’t like the sound of that. “Meaning?”

“Meaning you won’t be able to hear us if you make it to the Atrium, or in the Grand Bazaar.”

Val stood above her, arms folded. “That’s going to be a problem.”

Tyler stepped in on Eddie’s end. “Fluid plan, remember? We’ll be okay. You two get back to work.” There was a long pause, then he added, “Finn and Mac wanted to send in the cavalry, you know.”

Talia let out a quiet laugh. “We’re not quite there yet.”

“That’s what I said. I told them to have faith.”

“Of course you did.”

CHAPTER

SIXTY-

EIGHT

WESTERN TOWER

TWIN TIGERS COMPLEX

BANGKOK, THAILAND

WITHTHECOMMSFIXED, Val returned to her deal panels.

Talia went to a snack basket in the kitchen and found a granola bar—a sliver of the mundane in what was rapidly becoming the weirdest night of her life. She took a bite and nodded at the grifter. “What are you working on?”

“Something I started before this little interruption. Ever hear of a flash mob?”

“Sure. Pretend crowds suddenly breaking into performance art.”

“Now imagine the performance art they’re engaging in is purse snatching. I have field mice and jackrabbits hitting cities across Europe. A five-thousand-dollar buy-in gets them a time and place. We’ve picked up more than two thousand takers.”

Talia dropped her forehead into her palm “Val, we’re the good guys. You can’t—”

“She’s okay,” Tyler said. “Val is rallying the snatchers. I’m rallying a counter flash mob of my own, of the constabulary persuasion. Cuffs will hit wrists before any purses go missing.”

“Great. But all those arrests will make the news.”

“By then this will all be over. Your cover is safe. For the moment. How are you holding up?”

Talia didn’t want to say, but she was too tired to lie. “I’m worn out, Tyler. Death mazes are exhausting.”

“Exhaustion will get you killed. Get some rest.”

“But the kids—”

“You can’t help them if we don’t win this. Get some rest. That’s an order.”

“Fine. A few minutes. No more.” She sank into the couch and watched Val work while she finished her granola bar, and then leaned back into the cushions and closed her eyes.

For only an instant.

WHEN TALIA OPENED HER EYES AGAIN, light streamed in through the window. The day outside had progressed well beyond the morning hours. How long had she slept? Something buzzed in her lap. “What on earth?”

“Oh good. You’re up.” Val sat at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee. “I got a couple of hours, but darling, you snore. Anyone ever tell you that?”

Talia rubbed her eyes and glanced down to find a new glass-and-gold slate in her lap.

“A porter dropped that by. Creepy, huh? But you can’t argue with the service.”

The slate buzzed again. Talia squinted at Val, then checked the screen.

PRIVATEMESSAGEALERT

THEHYENA

CLICKTOREAD

The Hyena. Atan. But Atan was dead.

Talia checked the scoreboard on the TV. By the look of the numbers, Val had been busy. She had run them up to more than twenty-six million each.

“Who did your purse snatchers rob? The Pope?”

Val set her coffee down and stretched, giving her a sleepy laugh. “The purse snatchers haven’t struck yet. Most of our money came from Jafet. Eddie and I have been moving it around from account to account to create false deals. What do you think?”

“I think I’m a dead woman the next time I head out into the