Free Measure of Darkness by Chris Jordan Page B

also means limited,” he reminds her. “We can look but not touch.”
    â€œIt’s a kind of invisible, undetectable window into their system,” Naomi explains, attempting to share. “Planted by Jack’s operative at Keener’s company, Quanta Gate.”
    â€œMore like a reflection of a window,” Teddy corrects. He manages to look embarrassed and pleased at the same time. Then, as if to deflect attention away from his faux-hawked self, he goes, “Alice? Um, what happened out there?”
    â€œOh, nothing much. Just proved that the dead professor had a kid, that’s all. With a mysterious Chinese lady.”
    That finally gets their attention.
    â€œDetails,” boss lady demands.
    â€œI should save it for the next case briefing.”
    â€œDon’t be cute,” she says, giving me The Squint. The Squint means we’ve had our fun but joke-time is over, wisecracks are no longer appreciated. It’s boss lady turning off the friendly switch and getting serious and making you serious, too. And so I give her the play-by-play, including the demon cats and the sandbox, and Professor Keener calling the child his “keyboard kid.”
    â€œOdd that he would call him that,” she says. “I wonder what it means, exactly. It must mean something.”
    Riffing, I say, “Maybe if you’re a weird genius that’s a term of endearment. Anyhow, the point is, whatever their names are, the mother and child used to visit frequently, but the visits stopped two years ago. Haven’t been seen since, at least by the neighbor. They stopped coming around. Does that mean the mother broke up with the professor, possibly returned to China?”
    â€œI suppose anything is possible at this point. Whoever this woman is, Keener kept her off the grid. Randall Shane never mentioned anything about the mother being Chinese.”
    â€œHe didn’t have time to mention much of anything before the windows got kicked in.”
    â€œGood point. Give Jack and Dane a call, let them know about the boy.”
    â€œWill do.”
    Boss lady nods, frowning to herself. “I’d love to know what the ‘keyboard kid’ reference means. We’ll try Googling the phrase, but off the top of your head, what first comes to mind when you hear the word keyboard? ”
    I shrug. “Computers, I guess. And pianos.”
    â€œPianos?”
    â€œPianos have keyboards.”
    â€œRight! Of course they do. Hmm. Interesting.”
    Without formally ending the conversation—a habit she has when distracted—Naomi wanders away, looking even more thoughtful than usual, which is sort of like saying a saint looks even more religious when the halo blinks on.

Chapter Twelve
Waves of Water, Waves of Light
    T he good ship Lady Luck currently resides at an upscale marina in Quincy, just south of the city, in sight of the skyscrapers in the financial district, which seems fitting. Speaking of skyscrapers, Jonny Bing’s hundred-and-ninety-foot yacht looms over every other boat in the marina, many of them quite sizable, but nothing much compared to four stories of Lady Luck, gleaming like a huge pile of freshly laundered cash.
    Jack Delancey positions his spotless vehicle in the far reaches of the marina parking lot, where it’s less likely to get dinged. He’s just back from Concord, New Hampshire, three and a half hours turnaround, a waste of time, most of it spent behind the wheel, and he’s more than ready to stretch his legs on this last little task before reporting back to Naomi. He happily saunters past a waterfront condo development, which includes a few trendy restaurants and at least one destination bar that’s been cited numerous times for an infestation of noisy, wine-quaffing yuppies. The rent-a-cop at the gate picks up on Jack’s cop vibe and waves him through with a lazy salute that makes the former FBI agent grin to himself. Beyond