License Invoked

The manager was watching with keen interest as the two agents inspected the room. Liz finally had to admit there wasn't a single clue that would tell them where Robbie would go if she felt troubled.

"I think we've learned what we can," she said. "Thank you for your assistance."

"Always happy to be of service to our guests," the manager said, with a bow, but Liz knew he was thinking of Fio

"We need to get Ms. Robbie to a specialist. Just let us know if she comes back here." Boo grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the nightstand, and scribbled his cell telephone number on it. He handed the slip to the manager. "We shouldn't let her leave on her own. It could be very serious. If you'll just have her call us the moment she shows up."

"I'd be happy to," the manager said, tucking the piece of paper into his breast pocket. "You can count on us."

"I never doubted it," Boo said.

Boo left the same message and his telephone number with the doorman.

"That's about all we can do here," he told Liz. "Should we keep on searchin'?"

"The concert isn't long from now," Liz pointed out, checking her watch. "We'd better go back to the Superdome. We know the target is Fee. We ought to be there to protect her."

"And hope there aren't any fresh booby traps waitin' for us when we get there," Boo said, raising a hand for a taxi.

Feeling considerably more comfortable under the influence of alcohol and Ken's friendly overtures, Robbie reeled off into a catalogue of adolescent complaints about Fio

Ken nodded and smiled at the right places, all the while keeping one eye on the clock. He had to get her back into the Superdome, reco

"If Fio

"Yeah," Robbie said, her voice breaking. "I'm efficient. Big deal. Except I left all my stuff hooked up when I left. The board is still hot, and all the switches are armed. Can you believe it? Normally I turn everything off. I'm so stupid! It's like Dublin all over again, when that poor man got knocked out during that rehearsal." Her shoulders heaved. Ken was afraid she was going to cry. The last thing he needed was an emotional outburst, and he didn't want her mouthing off about that nosy guy in Dublin. That had been a mistake. If it was ever co

A tingle crossed between them, like a spark of static electricity.

Ken jumped up with surprise, then sat down again, trying not to show his eagerness. Robbie was still chock full of magical energy coming off the transmitter from the SATN-TV satellite feed. The Law of Contagion was still in force! She'd made the co

He glanced out the door to make sure the two agents weren't in sight. They could queer the whole thing if they turned up unexpectedly. Mr. Kingston had promised to do something about them, but he hadn't said what or when. In the meantime, the bar was wide open to the public. Anyone who came in could see them. Did he have any of the materials he needed for an obfuscation charm? He started feeling in his pockets. He couldn't improvise. Ken knew he wasn't much of a natural magician. He thought of himself more as a technical operator.

Robbie was talking, and looking at him as if she expected a response to what she was saying. Ken nodded whenever Robbie paused for breath. He'd only hope Ms. Mayfield and her grubby friend would keep chasing their tails until he'd managed to do what he needed to.

"Under the circumstances, I understand how you left everything ru

Robbie watched his fingers. Her eyes looked solemn as an owl's behind her thick glasses.

"You have really long fingernails," she a

"It's all right," Ken said, somewhat put out by the comparison. The blather that those two agents had been making about Robbie being a sensitive was more true than they'd ever know. He wondered if she could smell the brimstone incense he burned at home, and whether it was affecting her perceptions. "You know, you're a really nice person, Robbie."

She hiccuped. "Creak, creak, creak," Robbie said suddenly, tilting her head and staring at the ceiling. "Do you hear that? It sounds like a rocking chair." Ken glanced up. He didn't hear anything. Whatever she was tuned into, it made him uncomfortable. Hastily, he brought the subject back on track.

"You know," he said, "Lloyd's such a perfectionist. If Fee made a total fool of herself, like screwing up the concert, he'd reject her."

"You think so?" Robbie asked.

"I'm sure of it," he said almost casually, making a spi

A crafty expression appeared on her face. He made a note of it as he reached into his pocket for a small package he kept there. When the bartender brought the next installment of drinks, Ken slipped a tablet of LSD into Robbie's.

"Come on," he said. "Let's drink to watching Fio