Steelheart (The Reckoners #1)(40)

The problem was, an Epic

weakness could be just about anything. Tia mentioned symbols— there were some Epics who, if they saw a speci c pattern, lost their powers for a few moments. Others were weakened by thinking certain thoughts, not eating certain foods, or eating the wrong foods. The weaknesses were more varied than the powers themselves.

“If we don’t gure out this puzzle,” Tia said, “the rest of the plan is useless. We’re starting down a dangerous path, but we don’t yet know if we’ll be capable of doing what we need to at the end. That bothers me greatly, David. If you think of anything — anything—that could give me another lead to work on, speak of it.”“I will,” I promised.

“Good,” she said. “Otherwise, take Cody and please let me concentrate.”

“You really should learn to do two things at once, lass,” Cody said. “Like me.”

“It’s easy to both be a bu oon and make messes of things, Cody,”

she replied. “Putting those messes back together while dealing with said bu oon is a much more di cult

prospect.

Go

nd

something to shoot, or whatever it is you do.”

“I thought I was doing whatever it is I do,” he said absently. He stabbed a nger at a line on one of the pages, which looked like it listed clients of the bank. It read Johnson Liberty Agency.

“What are you—” Tia began, then cut herself o as she read the words.

“What?” I asked, reading the document. “Are those people who stored things at the bank?”

“No,” Tia said. “This isn’t a list of clients. It’s a list of people the bank was paying. That’s …”

“The name of their insurance company,” Cody said, smirking.

“Calamity, Cody,” Tia swore. “I hate you.”

“I know you do, lass.”

Oddly, both of them were smiling as they said it. Tia immediately began shu ing through papers, though she noticed—with a dry look—that Cody had left a smudged bit of mayonnaise from his sandwich on the paper where he’d pointed.

He took me by the shoulder and steered me away from the table.

“What just happened?” I asked.

“Insurance company,” Cody said.

“The people who First Union Bank paid piles of money to cover the stuff they had in their vault.”

“So that insurance company …”

“Would have kept a detailed, day-by-day record of just what they were insuring,” Cody said with a grin. “Insurance people are a wee bit anal about things like that. Like bankers. Like Tia, actually. If we’re lucky, the bank led an insurance claim following the loss of the building. That would leave an additional paper trail.”

“Clever,” I said, impressed.

“Oh, I’m just good at nding things that are hovering around under my nose. I have keen eyes. I once caught a leprechaun, you know.”

I looked at him skeptically.

“Aren’t those Irish?”

“Sure. He was over in the homeland on an exchange basis.

We sent the Irish three turnips and a sheep’s bladder in trade.”

“Doesn’t seem like much of a trade.”

“Oh, I think it was a sparking good one, seeing as to how leprechauns are imaginary and all.

Hello, Prof. How’s your kilt?”

“As

imaginary

as

your

leprechaun, Cody,” Prof said, walking into the chamber from one of the side rooms, the one he’d appropriated as his “thinking room,” whatever that meant. It was the one with the imager in it, and the other Reckoners stayed away from it. “Can I borrow David?”

“Please, Prof,” Cody said, “we’re friends. You should know by now that you needn’t ask something like that … you should be wel aware of my standard charge for renting one of my minions. Three pounds and a bottle of whiskey.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be more insulted at being called a minion, or at the low price to rent me.

Prof ignored him, taking me by the arm. “I’m sending Abraham and Megan to Diamond’s place today.”

“The weapons dealer?” I asked, eager. They’d mentioned that he might have some technology for sale that could help the Reckoners pretend to be an Epic. The “powers” manifested would have to be ashy and destructive, to get Steelheart’s attention.

“I want you to tag along,” Prof said. “It will be good experience for you. But follow orders—Abraham is in charge—and let me know if anyone you meet seems to

recognize you.”

“I will.”

“Go get your gun, then. They’re leaving soon.”





15

“WHAT about the gun?”

Abraham said as we walked. “The bank, the vault contents, those could be a false lead, could they not? What if there was something special about the gun that your father fired at him?”

“That gun was dropped by a random security o cer,” I said.

“Smith and Wesson M&P nine-millimeter, semiauto. There was nothing special about it.”

“You remember the exact gun?”