and then he said to Zack, "Keep an eye on Lyta, Zack. You don't have to assign someone to follow her. In fact, considering we're dealing with a telepath, that would probably be a colossal waste of time. But nonetheless, spread the word among your people, and make an effort to have a general sense of her whereabouts. If there's a recurrence, or other odd behavior on her part, let's head it off. Got it?" Zack nodded and then said, "Anything else, sir?" "Yeah," said Sheridan uneasily. "Watch your back." Tossing off a very casual salute, Zack said, "I always do." And he departed, leaving Sheridan alone in his office. Sheridan went to the monitor, toggled the controls, and a moment later had an image of the artifact in front of him once more. The same artifact that had prompted him to chortle to himself, "Besides, it is mine," so smugly.
Now it seemed that he might be paying for that overconfi-dence. He just hoped that others wouldn't pay as well. That Lyta's stunt was nothing more than some sort of fluke, never to recur. That it had nothing at all to do with the artifact. And that all of this confusion and mess would somehow manage to resolve itself.
As much as he liked having the artifact be his ... he was starting to wish that it had, in fact, been someone else's.
When Sheila Morris Rosen Blumberg O'Sullivan arrived at the quarters rented by her former husband, Leo, she hadn't been entirely certain of what she would find. But she certainly hadn't expected to encounter what she, in fact, did. Namely, Leo lying there, passed out on the bed, fully clothed and smelling of liquor.
Alex paled when he saw his brother that way. He knew that Leo had been at the Zocalo for a long time, but he'd been unaware that his brother had drunk himself into a stupor. How was this