"Laura Anne Gilman - Staying Dead" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gilman Laura Anne)

"Look, all I need is a reasonably-sized list of people with something to gain by the client losing his big
block o' protection, and I can backtrack from there. We do a little digging, to see who has the skills, or
the money to hire a mage of that power, and then I can retrieve the cornerstone, which you know I can
do in my sleep. Easy money. So no worries."

"So, who's worried?" Sergei asked, sounding worried.

Wren hit the disconnect button, not bothering to say goodbye. Swinging her legs back down to the floor,
she winced a little at their stiffness. Time to hit the gymтАФshe had gotten a little too out of shape over the
winter again.

Too many of their recent cases had been deskwork, not action.

She filed the thought under "when I have a spare hour," pulled out the keyboard drawer and went to
work composing and sending out e-mails to contacts, some human, and some not quite so, looking for
any chatter happening in the Cosa Nostradamus.

The one advantage to being part of a community that the majority of the world didn't even know existed
was that you didn't have anywhere else to talk about what was going on. So the gossip network was
tight, fast, and frighteningly efficient. She'd lay decent odds with her own money that she'd have a lead by
lunchtime.

Speaking of whichтАж Wheels set in motion, she sat back and dialed the phone again.

"Hi, yeah, it's Valere in 5J. Medium sausage, and a liter of diet ginger ale. Just slap it on the tab." She
listened for a moment, laughed. "Yeah, you too. Thanks." Taking off the headset, she draped it on its
stand, running fingers through her hair to fluff it up again.

Her mother's photo managed to emit waves of disapproval despite the smile still fixed to her lips. "Ah,
come on, Mom. Breakfast of champions, right? What's the point of having a 24-hour pizza place on the
corner if you don't take advantage of it?"

Besides, it was either that or leftover Thai from the back of the fridge, and she'd mentally tagged that for
lunch.

She had about half an hour before Unray's buzzed with her pizza. Might as well make it a billable half
hour. Pulling the 'corder out of her jacket pocket, she put it on the desk and swung the keyboard into
position. With a quick, silent prayer that her moderate use of current while the 'corder was in her pocket
hadn't totally futzed the batteries, she hit Play and began to transcribe her notes, wincing a little at the
static that had crept into the tape just because it was near her body.

"Come on, brain cells," she muttered as her fingers hit the keys. "Give me something I can use. Momma
wants to wrap this up fast and have the weekend free, for once!"

Chapter Three



The room was remarkable for being completely unremarkable. The walls were painted a soft matte
white, the floor made from wide planks of fine-grained wood. The lighting came from discreet spots that