Sam took Abby’s arm. “I’ll catch up with him there. See you all at the tech summit next week.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” David said. “My kids can’t waitto go kayaking again. They’re still talking about the experience last summer.”
Sam guided Abby back through the automatic steel doors and down a hall. She studied the stone- and steel- and glass-clad walls, floor and ceiling.
Sam guessed her thoughts. “Stone, steel and glass are the three materials that do the best job of stopping psi-radiation and ultralight.”
“Stone and steel I understand. But glass?”
“Glass is still something of a mystery, and it has a history of being unpredictable when it comes to paranormal energy, because it possesses the properties of both a solid and a crystal. But here in the Box we use a special type of glass that we designed ourselves. It doesn’t always block psi or ultralight, but it does disrupt the oscillating pattern of the currents in many of the specimens. That works just as well as a solid barrier, in most cases.”
He stopped in front of another set of steel doors and entered a code into the security system. The doors made almost no sound when they slid open, which, Abby decided, was why the two people at the far end of the room did not realize that they were no longer alone. The pair stood very close, their body language signaling an intimate relationship.
Abby looked around with a sense of spiraling excitement, her senses dancing to the beat of the hot energy in the room. Unlike the crystal-based heat in the lab, this was her kind of psi.
The Coppersmith Inc. technical library resembled the rare books and manuscripts room of a large academic library. The atmosphere was hushed and Old World. Leather-bound volumes graced the shelves. Some were quite ancient. Many of the hottest books were housed in glass cases. There were no windows, and the artificial lighting was kept to a minimum. Green glass shades covered the lamps on the reading tables. The difference was that many of the books in this library were hot.
Sam coughed discreetly. “Dr. Frye, Jenny. Sorry to interrupt.”
The two people at the other end of the room jumped apart and turned quickly. The woman was clearly mortified. She appeared to be in her early forties and endowed with the scholarly, academic look that went with the library. Her silvering hair was cut in a sleek bob. She wore a navy blue skirted business suit and gold-framed glasses.
“Mr. Coppersmith,” she said, flustered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were here.”
“It’s okay, Jenny,” Sam said, moving forward with Abby. “Just stopped in to check on a few things and do a little research.”
The man next to Jenny smiled. “Mr. Coppersmith. Good to see you again here at the lab. It’s been a while.”
“Been busy,” Sam said. He sped through the introductions. “Dr. Gerald Frye, Jenny O’Connell, I’d like you to meet Abby Radwell.”
Gerald Frye was obviously close to Jenny’s age, but perhaps a couple of years younger, Abby thought. Thirty-nine or forty, although it was hard to be sure. It looked as if he had not bothered to run a brush through his shaggy mane of dark, graying hair that morning. His mustache and beard needed a trim. He wore heavily framed glasses and an unbuttoned lab coat that was liberally spotted with what appeared to be old coffee stains.
There was a polite round ofHappy to meet you.
“Abby is an expert in hot books,” Sam said.
“Is that so?” Jenny smiled warmly. “Always a pleasure to meet a colleague. There aren’t that many of us who specialize in rare hot books. Do you work in one of the other Coppersmith labs?”
Here it comes,Abby thought. She braced herself for the inevitable reaction.
“No, I don’t work in one of the other labs,” she said. She gave Jenny her brightest professional smile. “I’m a freelancer.”
Jenny blinked. Comprehension dawned in her expression along with ill-concealed disapproval.
“I see,” Jenny said. “You work in the private market?”
“Right,” Abby said.
Private marketwas polite code in the hot-books world for the paranormal underground market, and they both knew it. Professional librarians and academics who valued their scholarly reputations did not dabble in the underground market, or at least did not admit to dabbling in it. They had their own reputations to consider, and, besides, it was dangerous.
“Right now, Abby is working for me,” Sam said.
Jenny’s smile was stiff, but she kept her demeanor coolly polite. “I see,” she said again.
Gerald Frye looked at Sam with a troubled expression. “I don’t understand. Is Miss Radwell trying to find a specific book for you?”
“Yes, she is,” Sam said. “It’s one I want for the family collection, not the company library. It disappeared several years ago, but it’s rumored to be coming up for auction. Abby has that covered. The reason we’re here today is because I want to do some research.”
“Yes, of course,” Frye said. “In that case, I’ll leave you to it. I need to get back to the lab.” He bobbed his head at Abby. “A pleasure, Miss Radwell.”
