Dark Oracle by Alayna Williams Page B

Magnusson, about his careful abandonment of his office. He had taken everything with him. Perhaps Magnusson had chosen to disappear. Perhaps, as DiRosa had suggested, his goals were at cross-purposes with those of the government lab, and he had chosen to destroy his work and vanish.
    Frowning, she flipped back through her journal. The card she’d originally chosen for Magnusson was the Magician. The Magician was a creator, not a destroyer. It would take extraordinary pressure for him to destroy his own work. What had happened to cause him to take such steps? What had he been asked to do?
    A soft knock at her door startled her. She jerked her head up, that involuntary reaction from years of being summoned out of sleep. Tara blew out her breath in frustration. She was too jumpy, and furious with herself for letting her anxieties get the best of her today. She wrapped up her cards and notebook, stowing them back in her travel bag.
    Padding to the door, she peered into the peephole. It was Li, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, holding a pizza box.
    Hmm. Pizza.
    She opened the door partway, smelling pepperoni.
    He lifted the lid of the box, gave a guarded half smile. It was a nice smile, sheepish and open. “I come in peace?”
    Her stomach gurgled loudly, and Tara’s cheeks flamed at the sound. “Peace offering accepted.”
    “L OOK , I’ M SORRY ABOUT THE RADIATION THING .”
    Li and Tara sat cross-legged on the floor, the pizza open box between them and photos spread out on the green carpet. They’d been scribbling out their interview notes from the day on yellow legal pads.
    Tara looked up from her slice, pen still. “It’s okay, really. It wasn’t your fault, Agent Li.”
    “Well, it was.” Li looked down, and Tara could see he was deeply embarrassed. “I don’t make a habit of tearing colleagues’ radiation suits and exposing them to renegade quarks.”
    Tara shook her head. “I was not on my best behavior today. I’m pretty claustrophobic,” she confessed, “and I let that get in the way.”
    Li stared down at his hands. Dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, he seemed much younger than he did in a suit and tie. She liked this version of him better: he seemed more natural, at ease. “I know I can get overly, um, inflexible in my thinking.”
    “Forgive and forget?”
    “Okay. Forgive and forget.” Li reached for one of the photographs she’d taken. “I still can’t believe you got these out of there. You’re much sneakier than I gave you credit for.”
    “Thanks, Agent Li. I think.”
    “I think we can be on a first-name basis, since I tore up your radiation suit. It’s Harry.”
    Tara inclined her head. “Harry,” she repeated. It was a nice name. Practical and gentle. It didn’t seem like the name of a federal agent.
    “What do you think of this?” She reached up on the dresser and handed him the watch she’d found at the scene.
    “Correction. . . you’re beyond sneaky. I’m not sure I want to know how you got this out of there.”
    Tara made a face. “I wore it on my wrist.”
    “Very persuasive of you, then.” He cocked an eyebrow.
    She watched him closely as he turned it over in his hands. The crystal was unmarred, which seemed unusual under a high-impact situation. But the hands and case had warped, twisted, stretched to a shape that was a bit off-center. The hands suggested some time after two o’clock, but the distortions made that a guess. It looked like a watch designed by Dali.
    “It’s not melted,” he observed, running his fingers over the crisp edges of the case. On the back, it had been engraved with the number eight or the symbol for infinity, depending on one’s vantage point. Tara was reminded of the echo of that shape in the loop of the particle accelerator. The engraving was sharp and untouched. The links were stretched out a bit, and it seemed the metal was softer in some places than in others.
    “I have no idea what to make of this,” he said at last,