Chapter Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Eight
His life had become a lot more interesting lately, Luke reflected. Also, more complicated. He wondered if the blah-blah-blah thing should worry him. Not that he had time to analyze it now.
He stood in the shadows of the side door of the Maze Gallery, one of the few areas of the compound that was not awash in bright lights.
Unlike Grant’s casita, the entrance was protected with a high-end electronic alarm.
It was good tech but not the best. The Wells jammer would have no trouble silencing the system long enough for him to slip inside.
This was what happened when customers insisted on going with the lowest bidder.
Anything that gets in the way—sex, for example—is a distraction.
What the hell did that mean? Did Sophy think that the attraction between them was nothing more than a brief distraction?
On the plus side, there was no longer any doubt that she was aware of both the physical and psychic bonds that connected them. She couldn’t blame the wild kiss in the honeymoon suite on post-trance energy or vortex currents.
He’d experienced psi-heavy environments in the company labs and in the course of his work for the Agency.
The family vault reeked of the stuff. So did the Foundation museum.
Some of the effects had been mildly intoxicating.
Others had delivered a stiff adrenaline jolt.
A few had induced hallucinations. But none had given him the rush he got when he was with Sophy.
He let himself into the gallery, closed the door, and stood quietly for a moment, absorbing the feel of the deep darkness.
The old house was drenched in night. The floor lights that had guided viewers through the gallery had been turned off. Someone had pulled the plugs on all the art installations. There were no hypnotic vibes coming from the mirror tiles.
He jacked up his night vision and suddenly his surroundings were steeped in an eerie radiance that emanated from somewhere beyond the visible spectrum. The walls, ceiling, and floor were now an impossibly deep shade of violet. A nearby display pedestal glowed an otherworldly blue.
He slipped the jammer back into his jacket and considered how to proceed.
The biggest risk was that he might accidentally blunder into one of the sculptures and send it crashing to the floor.
That would probably bring a thundering herd of armed security people.
He wondered if Hatch’s bodyguards would be among the first responders or if he would find himself confronting a handful of armed retirees.
Probably the blondes. He had the feeling they were the ones in charge of protecting the real secrets of the art colony. The retirees were for show.
Satisfied that he could see clearly enough to move through the maze without crashing into the artwork, he started down the first hallway.
There was a variety of methods for navigating a maze, including the classic technique of planting one hand on a wall and never lifting it off until you reached the exit point.
But that approach, like the other strategies, was time-consuming.
He needed to move quickly tonight. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Sophy alone in the room.
Bruce would protect her, but there was only so much a dog—or any guardian, for that matter—could do when confronted by an armed intruder.
He studied the violet floor. Pools of phosphorescent energy marked layers of footprints—the tracks of visitors who had toured the gallery. It was unlikely there were answers to be found on that route.
If there were secrets in the gallery, they would be concealed in one of the branching corridors that had been roped off during the exhibition.
That meant he was looking for a path that was used on a regular basis by relatively few people: Hatch and those who were privy to whatever was going on inside the compound.
The first two blocked hallways showed no indications that anyone had taken those paths in a very long time. There were, however, plenty of radiant footsteps in the third corridor.
He examined the heavy velvet rope, careful not to touch it. He had to assume that it was alarmed. He took out the jammer and ran a check. The device lit up like a Las Vegas slot machine. That told him he was on the right path.
Disarming the security system took only seconds.
Once he was on the other side of the rope he followed the iridescent pools left by human feet.
The pattern of the energy tracks showed no hesitation at any of the branching corridors.
The people who had come and gone through this section of the maze had been very sure of where they were headed.
That was a strong indication that there was something interesting at the other end of the hallway.
He went forward cautiously, using the jammer to search for hidden security traps. The path took him around an extraordinary number of corners and past the inviting entrances to several deceptive branches.
He was making progress. The familiar ping of knowing that he always got when he was on the right track was growing stronger. He headed toward another intersection…
…and stopped when an electric frisson hit his senses. This was not a good-news-ahead ping. This was a claxon warning him to leave. Now.
But he was closing in on something important.
Just one more corner…
He turned and went down the well-traveled hallway and stopped again when he found himself confronting a solid wall. There were no more intersections or branching corridors. No obvious exit. But the footsteps he had been following disappeared beneath the barrier.
The jammer pinged, indicating a nearby security device. That was promising. But he was still getting the warnings from his intuition.
He sensed the presence in the hallway and turned to confront whoever stood there. The piercing lights of a strobe shot out of the darkness, dazzling and blinding all of his senses.
The shadowy figure spoke.
“You cannot have the succubus. Her power is mine to control.”