“Our ability to control ordinary people’s minds doesn’t affect one another,” Oscar notes. “If this organization’s grip on you works the same way—”

“That would explain everything.” She reaches for her tube of sang de sommelier and knocks it back in a desperate shot. “Oh! This stuff helps me think. Isn’t that stupid? It makes everything clearer.” She stares at Oscar across the ruins of dinner. “I’ve been trying to steer you away from doing anything that I thought would attract their attention, but I’m pretty sure they’re going to come for us sooner or later. I’ve been working on a plan, but being able to tell you about them will make things much easier.” She takes a deep breath. “What we did with the board. Think of it as a dress rehearsal. The stakes next time will be much sharper . . .”

“Then we’ll just have to be ready for them, won’t we? At least we’ll be forewarned and forearmed when your Men in Black pay us a call.” Oscar very deliberately raises the other tube to his lips, uncaps it, and swallows. He shudders very slightly as he puts it down and focusses on her. “But first—”

They don’t even make it to the bedroom this time.

• • •

SARA’S BODY RECLINES IN OSCAR’S CHAIR, SLOWLY COOLING, for nearly three hours after his and Mhari’s departure. That’s how long it takes for her supervisor, annoyed by her failure to report back, to go searching for her. Eva, the supervisor, is so wrapped up in her own timekeeping concerns that she angrily hectors Sara’s body for nearly thirty seconds before she becomes concerned at the corpse’s lack of response and tries to wake her.

The ambulance crew arrive to take her away at one in the morning. The cleaning services duty manager arrives to give the upset supervisor a talking-to half an hour after that, but he reluctantly concedes that there’s more to this business than meets the eye. The cleaning services company has no alternative but to recognize that three employees have died on the job this month, in this particular client’s office, working nights. And while once is happenstance, and twice might be coincidence, three times is sick building syndrome.

A memo is prepared for circulation the next day. And gears begin to turn . . .

7.

CODE BLUE

MO IS STILL AWAY ON BUSINESS THE NEXT MORNING. I GO IN TO work early and run into Pete, who has a list of questions three times as long as my left arm (the good one), mostly about what I’d do with MAGIC CIRCLE OF SAFETY if it was clogging up my to-do list.