Clean: A Mindspace Investigations Novel Read Online Free Page A

to show you where the fish used to be. At least for a few minutes.”
    “A few minutes?” Branen echoed, struggling with the concept. “So, what you’re saying is, our suspect teleported out of the area slightly before the police arrived. He was visiting the body?”
    “Not exactly,” I said, a little defensively. “It was a hot spot, and he was pulling along more than his own metaphysical weight, so it was like two of the monster Japanese pond-rats popped out together. The hole takes longer to fill in.”
    Branen sighed. “So we’re talking teleporter. Which means Guild.” He rubbed his head. “And the victims? They’re not Guild, correct?”
    “Correct, sir. They’re not in the Registry.” Cherabino sat back in her chair comfortably, but then again she and Branen got along great. Me, on the other hand…
    Well, I had to say it. “They could be low-level, normal jobs, normal lives.”
    They both turned to me. “What?” Cherabino said.
    “You know the Guild’s Registry is only a partial list of members, right?” Their shocked looks told me obviously not. “It’s an industry list. If you want to hang a shingle and make money off your Ability—and you’re legit—you go through the Guild process, you gettrained and certified, pay the money, and you get registered. They get dues every year; you get the resources of a large organization and sometimes a job.” For the low-level guys, it wasn’t a bad deal. You kept your nose clean, you showed up at the mixers, you went home every night, and you raked in the money.
    “So it’s like the Bar Association?” Cherabino leaned forward.
    I shrugged, stretched out in the chair. “I don’t know much about them.”
    “Organization for lawyers? Total control over your professional future, takes money from you and you have to be a member?”
    I blinked. “Actually, that’s not too far off. But the Guild’s only like that if you’re powerful enough. On the low end of the scale, it’s optional. If you don’t want to work for them, if you want to be an accountant, or a lawyer, or a bricklayer, you can. Keep your nose clean, you’ll never hear from them. But there’s a point—usually a heavy five in telepathy—where it’s not a choice anymore. At that point you work for the Guild directly, you do what they say, and you’re registered in the lists the Guild provides the public.” Well, most of them. The Guild held back a lot of information from the cops. A lot. Which was why I got paid my consultant fee, to tell them at least what they didn’t know.
    “What happens if someone wants to quit?” Cherabino asked, curious.
    I suppose it was an obvious question, but the truth was…“That’s not really something we talk about.”
    Both cops stared at me. I looked at my shoes, set on worn industrial carpet at least a decade old. When I looked up again, I stared past Cherabino at the speckled walls. Even in my situation—unusual, to say theleast—I had certain obligations, and I did
not
want Guild Enforcement coming after me, not for something stupid like this.
    “The point is,” I changed the subject, “somebody at the scene—I’d wager the killer—teleported out of there. Considering there weren’t any drag marks on the ground on the way in, I’d wager he teleported in as well, carrying the victim with him. Means he’s at least a 3-T, plus a telepath as well—maybe a six or so. We’re talking double trouble here.”
    I rubbed my neck. “There are maybe twelve guys in the whole Solar System who can do both those things that strong, and they’ll be on the Spook list. The Guild will know what they’re doing at every moment of every day, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation, because after one body, the Guild would have taken lethal action.”
    Branen rubbed his head and picked up the phone on his desk, pushing a speed-dial button. After the call went through, he asked, “Have a minute? I need your expertise.”
    In the silence after