Page 29 of Artificial Moon

My kids know the routine. Once there, they commandeer their favorite rooms, setting up their respective gaming systems and hunkering down for what might be a few days—until I feel safe going home again, and get a handle on this Norm business. Anyone who can rig a silver-filled grenade at a moment’s notice with hidden funds has my attention. Paying someone to drive by and lob such a weapon through my front window is suddenly a very real possibility, and one that I can’t take. Kingsley’s home sits on a few acres and well back from the street, though I suppose a grenade launcher could still be a possibility. After all, where there is a grenade, there is a grenade launcher.

For now, I have to believe my kids are safe here at Kingsley’s mansion.

Yeah, we need to find this asshole and bring him in, one way or another.

Allison rolls in that night, parking her car in his crushed-seashell driveway, fresh off a training session with one of her Orange County clients. She comes in bearing four extra-large pizza boxes, which pretty much ate up her training fee for the day (which is why I snuck $40 in her purse when she wasn’t looking).

Four extra-large pizzas, lol.

Adorable.

One for Kingsley, one for Ant, two for the rest of us.

Having eaten our fair share of pizza (meaning, two slices each), Allison and I go up to Kingsley’s master bedroom and get comfy on one of his couches. Right, he has more than one couch in his bedroom.

“I can’t find him, Sam,” she reports after a few minutes of meditation. “Not even a whiff. He’s gone.”

“How is that possible?” I ask.

“I’m leaning toward the same thing as last time, Sammy. Remember how I could barely get a glimpse of him, with the likely reason being all that silver?”

“You think even more of the silver colloid?” I ask.

“Or silver in general. Do they make clothing with that stuff?”

I nod. “Hang on.” I pull out my phone and Google it. “They sure do,” I report, and list them for her: some athletic and medical garments are infused with real silver threads. Apparently, silver has natural antimicrobial properties that help prevent bacterial growth and odors. Some clothing companies weave silver fibers into their fabric to block electromagnetic radiation from phones and other sources, for those who are sensitive to fields. Silver-infused fabrics are sometimes used in high-tech outdoor gear to reflect body heat and improve insulation. Apparently, NASA and military applications have experimented with this. Silver-embedded materials are used for wound care and compression socks because of their antibacterial and healing properties.

“Wow, okay. That’s a lot,” says Allie. “There you go. I think he’swearingsilver.”

“And now, he’s invisible to you.”

“Yup. So, how do we find him?”

“Well, he can’t hide from a network of cameras throughout the city—”

“Unless he can somehow override them or shut them down.”

“Is that possible?” I ask, feeling like a dolt.

“If he has access to the power grid.”

I nod. “He does.”

“What’s to stop him from using one of his underground contacts to drive him to Florida?”

“Nothing, I suppose, and he might very well do something like that if the heat gets too hot for him here.”

“Meanwhile, I keep scanning for him. If there’s ever a moment he removes his clothing to, say, shower or change, I’ll find him.”

“You can do a continuous scan?” I ask.

“I can do it sort of behind the scenes, in the background—especially if I’ve found a target before, like I did him. It takes just a little bit of effort. We have to be lucky, too. Should he change clothing quickly, I might miss the window.”

“Okay, good enough.”

My cell rings. Looks like the richest man in the world wants to bend my ear.

“Sam?” says Andrew. He sounds a bit breathless.

---