Double Cross [2] by Carolyn Crane Page A

don’t know how to answer. Packard jerks Marty again. “You have proven that you don’t deserve her kindness, but she’ll give it anyway, and you know why? Because she has a nobility of spirit.”
    I look up and see them struggling strangely; Packard’s wrestling Marty’s canvas jacket off, I realize. Greg goes over to help him. The next thing I know, Greg’s holding Marty and Packard’s coming to me with the jacket.
    “So sorry, Justine.” He kneels in front of me. “You mind?”
    I shake my head.
    Packard pulls my sweater gently away from my stomach and scrubs from the inside and outside at the same time, with the interior quilting of Marty’s jacket. “You know, they say spitting is a legal form of assault, and there’s a reason.” He scrubs harder, getting every bit ofmoisture out, knuckles lightly brushing my bare tummy. “Here we go,” he says.
    “Thanks,” I whisper, wanting badly to touch his hair, at the very least.
    “You did such a great job.” He looks up, gaze soft. “We would never have thought of the glasses.”
    Our eyes lock. The feel of his hand is still alive on my stomach.
    “It was luck and blundering—”
    “Don’t discount it.” He stands. “This is information that will save lives.”
    Behind me another of Packard’s guys has edged in the door.
    Greg nods at the glasses with a distant look in his eyes. “You can touch them, Justine. They won’t hurt you. He wasn’t lying.”
    I’m surprised Greg would know this until I realize he’s taking dictation from Marty’s mind.
    I go pick up the glasses. All quite normal: plastic brownish rims, smooth, cool glass lenses.
    Packard throws Marty’s jacket back at him.
    “Girl’s paranoid of everything,” Marty says. “Doesn’t say much for whatever goes on around here.” He shakes it out. “Can I go now?”
    “Where’d they come from?” Packard asks me.
    “Off the Internet,” I say, meeting Marty’s gaze straight on. “Paradigm Factory dot com.”
    Greg lets out a hiss. “How long have they been on the market?” he asks Marty.
    Marty purses his lips.
    Greg’s listening to Marty’s mind. “He got them around Halloween. First he heard.” Then, “Damn it!” He turns to me. “You told him the song trick?”
    “Sorry.”
    “Halloween,” Packard says. “That’s over two months they’ve been on the market at least.”
    “The place makes conspiracy products,” I say. “Marty thought it was a joke until he tried these. Maybe they’re not so widespread.”
    “Can I go?” Marty asks.
    “No,” Packard says.
    “You have your information,” Marty says. “You have your lead. You gonna kidnap everyone that has these glasses?”
    “He does need medical attention for his finger,” I say.
    “Come here.” Packard says. “But leave the glasses.”
    I sort of want to keep them, but it’s not the time or place for that battle, so I set them on the table and grab my kit instead.
    The door shuts behind us.
    Some way down the hall, I stop and turn to him. “You’re not really going to keep him, are you?”
    “Just for now.” Packard strides away.
    I follow. “Why?”
    We enter the little office at the end of the hall. I’m acutely aware that we’re alone now. He walks around to the other side of the chunky wooden desk and grabs his phone.
    “The man did just help us,” I say. “The Dorks are Paradigm Factory customers. That’s huge.”
    “I know,” Packard says. “And the minute we release him, he’s going to warn the people there that we’re coming for their customer database.”
    “But it could take hours, even days to get that information. We keep him all that time?”
    “No.”
    “Well, what?”
    He gives me a look. “Sophia.”
    “No.”
    “We can’t let Marty walk around knowing what he knows. Our faces. You. We have to use her.”
    I sink into the chair on the other side of his desk.Telekinetics may rob people, other highcaps may read people, Ez may make you do things in your