Lies of the Beholder by Brandon Sanderson

Author:Brandon Sanderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

NINE

“Same car,” Ngozi said, peering through the binoculars out the window of our limo. “Big silver SUV that was parked on the street near the hot dog cart. I can barely make out the license plate by the streetlights.” She hesitated. “Anyone heard of a ‘Lexus’ make of cars?”

The aspects shook their heads. How many more aspects could I lose before I was just … gone? A drooling vegetable?

J.C. waved for the binoculars, and Ngozi wiped them down with a disinfecting wipe, then passed them over. He looked over the building. “No way to guess at their security level. Here’s what we do: We go back to the house and I gather a team of specialized aspects. Chin, Lua, Marci.

“We work some contacts, grab the architectural plans—and, if we’re lucky, find out who installed this building’s security. We might be able to find out who owned the building before this Kyle guy bought it, and—if they can be bribed—get an even better idea of what we’re dealing with. We come back in two days’ time, at three in the morning, when…”

I opened the door and stepped out into the night.

“… or not,” J.C. said, with a loud sigh.

I knocked on the driver’s window, which Barb rolled down. “Go park the car someplace out of sight,” I said, then started out toward the office building.

J.C., Ivy, Ngozi, and Jenny followed me. We crossed the dark lawn in a low run. Most parts of the building were floodlit, but on the east side the floodlight was flickering, mostly dark. So I approached from that side.

Jenny hung back the farthest, looking awkward as she tried to hide behind a tree. At least she was playing by the rules now. Ivy had done this sort of thing before, and crept beside J.C. and me with her shoes—not the most practical for an infiltration—held in her hand. I was worried most about Ngozi, but she was smiling as she settled in beside me near some shrubs.

“It’s been a while,” she whispered as we crouched down in the darkened shadow of the shrubbery. “I feel … I feel good. Like I can do this. Huh. Oh! Don’t brush those leaves! Do you know what kinds of chemicals they spray on these things to keep them looking this green?”

J.C. scanned the side of the building. “You insist on doing this now?”

“If Sandra is in there, I want to know. We can’t wait two days while they might move her.”

He shared a look with Ivy, who shrugged, then nodded.

He breathed out. “You people are all crazy.”

“Hey!” Ivy said. “I’m the psychologist here. I get to define who is crazy, and only four of us are.”

J.C. counted the five of us. Then, hesitantly, pointed at himself.

“J.C.,” she said flatly, “you’re as crazy as they come. How many gun magazine subscriptions do you have?”

“… All of them,” he admitted.

“In how many languages?”

“… All of them.”

“And how many of those languages other than English do you read?”

“… None of them.” He peered through the bushes with his binoculars.

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