In Too Deep

to search the mansion. I could sense the clock in the house but I couldn’t find it.”
    “Because it was hidden beneath the new floor the killer had constructed in the basement,” Isabella said. “He stored it there.”
    “I knew that even if I did locate the clock, there was no way I could get into the bomb shelter to get the rest of the curiosities. It was too well guarded by the good folk of Scargill Cove, not to mention a pack of dogs and a very serious lock. I could not find the tunnel entrance, either. I lacked Rachel’s talent for sensing the glass psi at a distance.”
    “So you called in Jones & Jones,” Isabella said. “You knew that Fallon would probably sense the clock if he went into the house and that he would tear the place apart to find it.”
    “Jones & Jones has a history with the Bridewell curiosities. I was quite sure that once Fallon Jones was on the trail, he would keep going until he turned up the rest of the artifacts in the shelter. I was prepared to drop a few hints about the events in the Cove twenty-two years ago if necessary, but as I expected, Jones was inside the shelter within twenty-four hours and the artifacts were trucked off to L.A. twenty-four after that. He’s good.”
    “He wasn’t working alone,” Isabella said. This was hardly the time to get defensive, but an investigator had a professional reputation to consider, even when looking down the barrel of a gun.
    “I’m well aware that you’re a strong talent in your own right,” Sylvia said. “Jones would never have hired you otherwise. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t know a serial killer was using the house as a dumping ground.”
    “Thanks for that. It’s a wonder he didn’t catch you inside the mansion.”
    “I was only in the Zander house once.”
    “You plan to return from your sabbatical and join Rafanelli in his research on the curiosities,” Isabella said. “After a discreet amount of time has passed, you will arrange for the gadgets to disappear from the museum vault.”
    “I’m afraid poor Dr. Rafanelli will get the blame when the Joneses discover that the artifacts are gone,” Sylvia said. “Can’t be helped, though. Someone has to take the fall. I will eventually resign in due course and disappear.”
    “Why on earth are you so obsessed with the curiosities?”
    Sylvia blinked at the question. “Of course, I forgot, you have no idea, do you? I’m a direct descendant of Millicent Bridewell, and my talent is similar to hers. I can handle the psi in those artifacts.”
    “You mean you hope you can handle it. According to Fallon Jones, no one understands what Bridewell did with glass and psi.”
    Sylvia was clearly annoyed. “Now that I have access to a large number of her original creations, I can reverse-engineer them. My goal is to learn enough from them to be able to construct modern versions that will work even better than the originals. Instead of clockwork mechanisms, my curiosities will be powered by state-of-the-art technology.”
    “That kind of project would be a very expensive undertaking.”
    “Yes, it will be.” Sylvia’s expression tightened. “It is also an undertaking that Arcane would refuse to fund, given its ridiculous prohibition against weapons research. But my new associate has very deep pockets and is willing to finance a first-class lab for me.”
    “Where did you get the music box?”
    “Family heirloom,” Sylvia said. “Created by Millicent Bridewell herself.”
    “Why couldn’t you just study that artifact to learn what you want to know?”
    “It’s not that simple,” Sylvia said. Anger simmered in the words. “The music box was one of the more complicated examples of Bridewell’s work. I’ve studied it for years and never figured out how she infused the energy into the glass.”
    “I’ll bet you don’t have any more luck with the other gadgets, either. How is your new business associate going to like it when she finds out you can’t deliver?”
    Outrage flashed across Sylvia’s face. “All I need is time and a decent lab.”
    “Alien technology,” Walker said. He rocked some more. “Too dangerous. Can’t let the g-government have it.”
    Sylvia glanced at him, irritated. “Don’t worry, the Feds will never get their hands on those curiosities.”
    For the first time Vogel spoke.
    “Dogs,” he said. He looked toward the window.
    Sylvia frowned. “I don’t hear anything.”
    Walker concentrated hard on