The Perdition Score (Sandman Slim 8)

“This is the area I want you to concentrate on. People are coming over for drinks in a little while. Some of them might be Wormwood. I want you to listen in case someone says anything that might give them away. Some are from the council, so you’ll know them. But try to learn as many of the other faces as you can.”

I look at the monitors then at Abbot.

“Down here, I’m useless. Up there, I’d be able to tell you who’s packing, who’s a straight arrow, and who’s lying.”

Abbot smiles broadly.

“They’re all liars. I’m the augur and they want to make me happy. Also, they all want to one up each other’s family. They’ll say anything that suits their interests.”

“Tell me again why you need me when you have Willem over there?”

“You’ve met at least some of Wormwood’s higher-ups. That puts you ahead of either of us. Look for those faces. Look and listen for anything familiar. If nothing comes up, then I wasted your evening and I’ll send you home with some cake.”

“You didn’t say anything about cake earlier. I’m completely on board now.”

“Good. Willem knows the system down here. He’ll be running the electronics. All you have to do is watch the show. I know you like movies. Pretend it’s My Dinner with André or something.”

“I prefer A Fistful of Dollars, but I get your drift.”

“Good. Okay. I have a couple of things to do. You two should get acquainted. The guests will be arriving shortly. If you want anything to eat or drink, you can have something sent down.”

I take the seat next to Willem.

“Very comfy. I love flying first class.”

“I’ll see you afterward.”

He leaves and I watch him go, crisscrossing from monitor to monitor on his way to check on the caviar fountain or corn-dog buffet, whatever it is heavy Sub Rosa clans dine on with their pope.

I turn around and Willem is looking at me.

I say, “You do this kind of thing a lot?”

“Sometimes it’s me on the console. Sometimes it’s someone else. The work gets done.”

“And no one is down here playing Ms. Pac-Man or Tetris while the blue bloods feed at the trough?”

He punches a few buttons, changing angles on some of the cameras.

“No. That’s more your speed, from what I’ve heard.”

“Really? Palace gossip about a small-town boy like me? The folks back in Arkansas will be so proud.”

He keeps at the console, not looking at me.

“No gossip. Just facts. I have friends on the force.”

“LAPD? They practically invented gossip. They’re worse than Hedda Hopper. They’re like the mean girls in a high school lunchroom. If they don’t know the truth, they’ll make something up just to see if they can make you cry.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

I lean my elbows on the edge of the console. Look up at the screens.

“I don’t know what I know sometimes. It’s a funny world. I saw bacon dance this afternoon. You ever see that? A whole plate. They could practically do a Busby Berkeley number.”

Willem draws in a breath and lets it out.

“What do you say we don’t talk for a while? Guests are starting to arrive.”