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loner. Mason the rebel, the man who goes his own way. Dirty Harry with a wand.”
    I opened my mouth to tell Victor where to put it, but Eli held up a warning finger. I acknowledged it and decided to keep the conversation light.
    “I like to think of myself more as a cross between Sherlock Holmes and Indiana Jones.”
    “Yes, don’t we all,” Eli said. “More likely, I think, she’s simply aware that you and Victor don’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things. I can see why she might think you could be persuaded eventually to jump ship, and a secret ally smack in the middle of Victor’s camp would be of tremendous use to her—if for nothing else, just for the information that could provide.”
    Timothy had been following the conversation with great interest.
    “Sounds like you want Mason to act as a double agent,” he said. “Couldn’t that be dangerous?” Good old Timothy, right to the heart of the matter.
    “Yeah,” I said. “Couldn’t Mason end up hanging from a meat hook somewhere, or providing target practice for a playful cobra?”
    “That’s not Jessica,” Victor said. “If she found out you were running a con on her, she’d most likely just fire you.”
    “Most likely” is one of those phrases that does not inspire confidence. But I wasn’t worried about my health, not really. I was more worried about taking on a difficult and possibly unpleasant assignment, for no good reason that I could see.
    “Still, it seems like an awful lot of trouble for something based on supposition, and not anything I want to get in the middle of anyway. I think I’ll pass on this one, thanks. The whole double-agent thing doesn’t hold much appeal for me—too much like simply being a rat.”
    “It’s not an admirable situation, I admit,” said Eli. “But you might want to reconsider. This could well be more than just practitioner politics—it could affect our future in a significant fashion. And who knows, maybe she really does want you to find this woman for her. Maybe the woman really did steal something and it would be nice to know why. You don’t steal things from a black practitioner without some very strong motivation.”
    “And don’t forget the money,” Timothy said. “I believe you owe me a few dollars, come to think of it.”
    I owed him more than a few, borrowed back when he was working and I wasn’t, and I felt guilty about it.
    “Well, the money certainly would come in useful,” I said.
    “Oh, you couldn’t keep the money,” Victor said. “I’ll pay your standard salary for the duration, of course, just like any job, and you can turn over the money she gives you to me.”
    “Fat chance,” I said. Victor leaned forward in his chair like a prosecuting attorney.
    “Really? So are you intending to actually look for this woman who’s hiding from Jessie?”
    “Why not?”
    Somehow I’d become turned around on my position about not doing this job without realizing it.
    “And what will you do if you find her? Turn her over to a black practitioner you know almost nothing about, based on her claim that the woman stole something? You’d be comfortable with that, would you?”
    “Well, no, I couldn’t do that, not without knowing a lot more about the situation.”
    “And let’s say this woman really is a thief. Then you’d be fine with being the instrument of her punishment, letting Jessie make the decision of what that punishment might be? Really?”
    I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t thought the thing through. Victor continued, relentless.
    “So let me see if I have this straight. You’d go to work for Jessie under false pretenses, with no intention of actually doing the job you’re being paid for, and take a large sum of money for it? And at the same time, then betray her and report back to us about what you found out? And keep the money for yourself? That seems morally weak, even for you, Mason.”
    Victor was right, of course. I looked over at Eli for help, but he