Rook

though she were looking for some obscure piece of information. Then she remembered something. “I’m curious about what Van Syoc shrieked at the end. Dr. Crisp,would you agree that our subject was compelled to answer you?” The doctor was still on the floor, gasping for breath, but he managed to nod his head.
    “Yes, Rook Thomas,” he said hoarsely. “Whatever he was trying to say, he was not lying. I would have known.”
    “In that case—” she began, but she was cut off by Perry, who was looking entirely too skeptical for her liking.
    “Ahem. While I am certain that we all appreciate Myfanwy’s little suggestions, it is dangerous to place too much emphasis on this idea. After all, it is clear to
anyone
who has experience in operations that this man”—he gestured toward the window and the slumped body of Van Syoc—“was simply reacting to the crude pain he was feeling. I understand why it would frighten you,” he said to Myfanwy, patting her on the shoulder, “but you can rest assured, it’s all very normal in these circumstances.” Perry’s patronizing tone set Myfanwy’s teeth on edge.
    “Indeed,” Myfanwy answered, staring at Perry fixedly. “Thank heavens we have you here to tell us when your superiors should be listened to and when they should be ignored.” She could see the lines of his mind traced out around his body and resisted the urge to cut his legs out from under him. Instead, she watched his cheeks flush and his eyes bulge. “I must confess, Perry, I don’t recall that particular responsibility listed as part of your office, but perhaps it is just a service you provide to the community for free.” The room’s focus was him now, and he was so red he would have stopped traffic.
    “In any case”—she waved a hand absently—“have someone figure out what this man Van Syoc was attempting to say.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the butler turn to a Pawn and send him hustling away, presumably in search of some sort of expert.
How satisfying,
she thought to herself, and took a long sip of coffee.
    “Also, I should like to know why there is smoke coming out of his body. Dr. Crisp, why did you snatch your fingers away?” she asked, doing her best to ignore the open mouths of the men around her. By this time, Crisp had managed to lever himself up and was edging himself away from Gestalt.
    “Well, ma’am, it felt as if I’d been bitten, as if something had snapped at my fingers,” he said apologetically.
    “Let me see your hands, please,” Myfanwy said, and he held them out. Crisp was still wearing the latex gloves, and she turned his hands over to examine them closely. His fingers were unusually long, with massive knuckles and joints. “Dr. Crisp, there are small burn marks on the fingertips of your gloves. Take them off, please.” He peeled them off and presented his fingers for inspection. They looked like pink bamboo. Myfanwy reached out, and he flinched away.
    “Don’t be foolish, I’m not going to hurt you,” she assured him, gently taking his hands in hers. His hands were soft and were lightly dusted with powder from the gloves. Nevertheless, she could see tiny pinpoints of soot on his fingers. “Fascinating. We’ll want to have both the gloves and your hands analyzed. And of course, the late Mr. Van Syoc will also need to be examined. Thoroughly.” She looked around and saw that nobody was doing anything. All of them were too busy watching her incredulously. She snapped her fingers several times, and they all startled. “All right, people, now! Start thinking some thoughts, and let the Rooks know when you’ve come up with anything. Ingrid, shall we adjourn?” Her secretary stood up beside her, and they walked to the lift.
    W ell!” Myfanwy burst out in frustration as soon as the lift doors had shut. “What the hell was that about?”
    “Perhaps—” began Ingrid, but she was cut off by Myfanwy’s rant.
    “I mean, that prat Perry comes barreling toward me as if I’m walking in a no-crossing zone and then sprays his spit in my face!” she said, wiping again at her cheek, this time with her sleeve. “And that bloody patronizing Gestalt! ‘Oh, here’s your little girlie paper bag to have a nice little girlie vomit if you feel the need,’ while the entire time he’s looking at me hoping I’ll lose it.”
    “Although to be—” Ingrid attempted to interject, but Myfanwy was going full throttle now, and barring a chop to her throat,