"I apologize."

She nods. She accepts my apology.

"Now tell me why your company's keeping a file on me. The real reason. And don't tell me it doesn't exist. Randy Clifford discovered it before you had him killed."

There, I've gone and done it; once again my impatience has overridden my caution. I've thrown down a challenge I can't take back. Now Brutran realizes I know about the dark side of IIC's business deals. I sharpen my focus, using all my senses, to see how the information affects her, and again I'm stunned by her control. Her expression remains impassive.

"I'm afraid that name doesn't ring a bell," she says.

"Does the name Marko?"

"Who's that?"

"The hit man who murdered Randy. IIC paid for the contract on him."

Ms. Brutran is amused. "I'm sure you have proof to support these wild accusations?"

"Of course. I never leave home without a pocketful of proof."

"Ms. Perne-"

"Alisa, please. If I may call you Cynthia."

"I prefer Cindy."

"Cindy it is."

"Alisa, I agreed to see you because of the reason I stated. You're wealthy, and my firm is interested in investing your wealth. But as to these wild accusations you're making, I must say they seem beneath a person of your stature."

Slowly, I turn up the power of my gaze. Brutran doesn't flinch. Indeed, I feel an odd power radiating back from her, one I've never felt before.

"Who are you?" I whisper.

"I told you who I am."

"What do you want with me?"

"I told you that as well."

"But you're lying, we both know that. Why the games?"

"I'm a businesswoman, Alisa. I don't play games." She leans closer. "It's important you understand this clearly. This meeting is important to our whole firm."

She's trying to tell me something without saying it aloud. There's also power in her words. She's trying to implant a suggestion inside me. Because I'm aware of the psychic trick, I'm able to block it. But I struggle to figure out her hidden message.

"Then tell me the true nature of your business," I say.

She smiles. "Why should I?"

"Perhaps I can help you. Perhaps we can help each other."

She shakes her head. "Honestly, I doubt you would help us. At least not willingly."

Us.

"You think I need to be motivated," I say.

"Yes."

"Then you must know who I am," I reply, straining with my mental antennae to pick up even a fragment of her thoughts. But I get . . . nothing.

"We have some idea."

I scan the room, searching for hidden cameras, listening devices. I see nothing, but that means nothing. They could be built into the very walls. Yet there's a strange dead sound to the room. Our words hit the walls and don't bounce back. I assume she employs an exotic form of soundproofing.

She has referred to "us" and "we." She's telling me our conversation is not private. She might also be warning me that if I try to attack her, I will be cut down.

"Tell me what you want with me," I say.

"Maybe later."

"I didn't come here to harm you."

"Then why did you come?"

"For information."

For the first time, I appear to have said something the woman did not expect. She frowns, and I finally realize she's listening to an implant buried deep in her ear. Yet the technology must be advanced. I can't hear what her associates are telling her.

"You can always put them on speakerphone," I taunt her.

She gestures, as if to brush aside my comment, or else the ones in her head, I'm not sure. Then she points to the door. "I think it would be best if you left. Now."

Since she has implied that there are guns trained on my body, I take her advice. But I don't want her to think I fear her. Quite the contrary.

"Shanti Garuda," I say. "You've taken a contract out on her as well. Due to conditions beyond his control, Marko won't be assassinating her or anyone else anytime soon. And I'd advise you not to hire another assassin."

Nothing surprises this woman. She reacts as cold as ever.

"How is she any business of yours?" she asks.

I stand. "She's a friend of mine. I want her left alone."

Brutran also stands. "This is my building, my company. I give the orders here."

She is definitely threatening to kill me. This instant. I'm forced to back down, a feeling I despise. "You're right, Ms. Brutran, this is your place. I'll leave you now."

"Later, Alisa."

"Definitely."

NINE.

Lisa Fetch answers the door of her condo after peering through the eyehole. At least she's displaying some caution, but I doubt she's ready to hear everything I have to tell her. She hastily invites me inside.

"Did you meet with Ms. Brutran?" she asks.

"Yes."

"How did it go?"

"Before I answer, I'd like to know if you've heard from Jeff."

"Not a word. I'm so worried."

"Take me to where he lives."

"Why?"

"I want to examine the place. Let's go now."

"Shouldn't we call the police?"

"No." It's a hard no, difficult for her to resist.

Fearful, reluctant, Lisa nevertheless climbs in my rental and we speed over to her boyfriend's place. My driving scares her; she worries I'll get a ticket. She doesn't know all I have to do is smile at a policeman and he'll walk away.

Jeff lives in an actual house. I ask Lisa to remain in my car while I go inside. She resists, naturally, she wants to come along, but finally gives me a key to open the door. I tell her to shout if anyone approaches the car. Yet I feel we're safe, for the time being. I know we weren't followed. That was one reason I drove so fast.

I smell the blood the instant I enter the house.

I remember Jeff's smell from his visit. It's his blood.

A bloodhound would sense the odor, perhaps, but not a human. And I suspect the people who came for Jeff have not left traces of blood that can be detected by special chemicals or lights. Nevertheless, his blood is in the air, infinitely tiny particles, and it is fresh.

There's a strong odor in the bedroom. But I'm not surprised that my nose leads me farther on, to his bathroom, to the drain in his tub. I'm able to see the scene as if it were playing out live before me. They surprised him in his bedroom, probably while he slept. They struck him on the head and cut him slightly. Then they carried him into the bathtub and butchered him alive with a sharp knife. It doesn't matter how long they ran the shower. I can smell the amount of blood that's gone down this drain, and it's enough to fill a body.

I notice there's no computer in the house.

Lisa told me he owns three.

I return to the car. Lisa waits anxiously.

"Did you learn anything?" she asks.

Putting my hand on her arm, I gaze into her weary green eyes.

"Jeff's dead. He was killed last night. IIC sent their people to kill him."

Lisa struggles to keep up. "You don't know that. You can't . . . I was in his house this morning, and there's nothing there that shows he was attacked."

"That's because the people who killed him were professionals. But in my own way, I'm a professional. I know a crime scene when I see it. Jeff is dead, and your life's in danger. Frankly, I'm not sure why they didn't kill you last night. I can only assume you're still of value to them."

"You don't know any of this!" Lisa screams.

I lock my gaze on her eyes and force the truth into her brain.

"He's dead. IIC killed him. I'm sorry, but you have to accept that."

In response, she collapses, sobbing, in my arms. I hold her a long time. Although I've killed thousands, I've never forgotten the feeling of what it's like to lose a loved one. Lisa truly loved Jeff, he was a fine man, and I know she'll miss him for a long time.

I drive her back to her condo and order her to pack. She obeys as if in a trance. I make sure she brings with her all the computer records or written files she has on IIC. Apparently, she has a load of information on her laptop, which I keep with me as I store the rest of her things in my trunk. We get on the 10 freeway heading east.

"Where are we going?" she mumbles.

"Where no one can find you. From now on you're to talk to only me, and on a cell phone I'm going to give you."

"What's wrong with my cell phone?"

"Give it to me."

"Huh?"

"Give me your cell."

She complies, slowly, and I shatter it on the dashboard and throw it out the window. She gasps.

"Why did you do that?" she cries.

"I suspect they placed a tracking device in it. From this moment on you have to live as if you're being hunted. Wherever you sleep, wherever you eat, you're not to use a credit card. Don't worry about money-I'll give you cash to live on. I'm going to get your new identity. Lisa Fetch doesn't exist."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I don't want you to end up like Jeff. Listen, you asked if I met with Ms. Brutran. I did, and I can assure you she's one of the most dangerous creatures I've met in my life. She threatened to kill me, and only let me leave IIC alive because she wants something from me."

"What?"

"I don't know, we didn't get that far. She's not a normal woman, and that's not a normal company. You know this already. You can't go back there. You can't call to tell them you're quitting. Just vanish, for now, until I'm able to figure out what they're doing and how to stop them."

"You speak of them like they're evil."