“I think that was the artist’s signature,” Harlan said.

Lucas looked up. “Where did you get this?”

“Long story,” Harlan said. “Some other time. I need to get to Seattle.”

“How do we know you didn’t come here asking for our cooperation because you think you’ve figured out a way to regain control of the Foundation?” Victor asked.

“I’m already in charge, remember?” Harlan said. “The Foundation reports to the director of the Agency for the Investigation of Atypical Phenomena. That would be me.”

“Thought we made it clear,” Lucas said. “The Foundation is an independent corporation.”

“With one client—my agency.” Harlan picked up his phone and slipped it into his coat pocket. “For what it’s worth, I don’t trust you, either. But I suggest we work out the details of our association some other time. At the moment we’re stuck with using each other. This is one of those ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ situations.”

“Maybe,” Victor said. “Regardless, there’s something we should talk about before I make that call to Olivia LeClair. Do you know a woman named Larissa Whittier?”

Harlan ignored the chill in his gut. “Skilled at making paranormal poisons. Murdered a couple of people, tried to steal some dangerous artifacts that belonged to my grandfather. Attempted to destroy two generations of the Chastain family. Motive—revenge. She’s currently in a fugue state in a locked ward at Halcyon.”

“I see you’ve read the classified report,” Victor said. “I asked you if you know her.”

“Never met the woman,” Harlan said. “The Rancourts aren’t a close family.”

Victor and Lucas went very still.

“You do know who she is, then?” Lucas asked.

“Imagine my surprise a few days ago when I discovered I had a half sister,” Harlan said. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll take the Foundation jet to Seattle this evening. Call the oracle. Tell her I want to see her in her office first thing in the morning.”

“You can fly commercial,” Victor growled. “Plenty of time to get to Seattle before the meeting with Olivia.”

“I don’t want to waste time sitting around an airport.”

“Do you have any idea what it costs to put the company plane in the air?” Victor muttered.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Harlan said. “I’m the guy who approves your budget now, remember?”

Lucas grimaced. “Who knew a Rancourt had a sense of humor?”

“I wasn’t joking,” Harlan said.

Victor groaned. “I’ll call Olivia, explain the situation and make sure she knows the Foundation security team in Seattle will protect her as long as you’re working with her.”