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didn’t know, I think you probably would have said so up front.”
    His eyes flickered, acknowledging the truth of this. He either knew or strongly suspected who these assholes were. “How are you qualified to deal with this sort of thing?
    What makes you imagine you won’t make it worse by butting in?”
    “It’s my experience this kind of thing thrives on secrecy. When you drag it into the light, when you make it public, it tends to shrivel up and blow away.”
    “Had a lot of experience with cults, have you?” he asked sardonically.
    I said evenly, “We’ve all had experience with bullies. You can dress this in black and teach it to quote bad poetry, but it’s still the same animal.”
    His turned off the television set. Back to me, he said quietly, “I have no proof, but I have my suspicions. Will you allow me to deal with this in my own way?”
    “If you truly will deal with it.”
    He glanced over his shoulder, his smile askew. “Word of honor.”
    He offered a well-shaped, strong hand.
    We shook on it. His grip was warm, just the right amount of pressure. I wondered how far I should trust to the honor of one of Satan’s highly placed minions.

    * * * * *
Bob Friedlander was waiting for me at Cloak and Dagger.
    “We wanted to stop by and thank you for Friday night.”
    We, White Man? Maybe he meant the publishing house; there was sure no sign of Gabriel Savant.
    “The pleasure was ours,” I said. “We had a great turnout. One of the best ever.” Angus was the fan. He had pushed for that signing -- and he had been right. It had been a success.
    The shame was that Angus hadn’t been around to enjoy it.
    “I hope you sold a lot of books?”
    “We did very well.”
    Friedlander appeared to be perusing the bookshelves behind the desk where Gabriel had signed books.
    Curiously, I inquired, “Was that announcement at the end for real? Is there a cult exposé in the works?”

    The Hell You Say

    19
    He spared me a harassed look. “No. I can’t imagine what Gabe was thinking.” He stood on tiptoe to examine the shelf above his head.
    “So there is no book planned?”
    “Absolutely not. It was a publicity stunt. A dumb stunt.” He removed a couple of books from the shelf.
    “What did you lose?” I asked.
    His heard jerked my way. “Huh? Nothing. Well, actually…yes. You didn’t happen to find a…a disk, did you?”
    “What kind of a disk?” I was thinking favorite CD.
    Friedlander looked flustered. “A floppy. It has research notes on it.”
    “You think you lost it here?”
    “I didn’t lose it,” he said irritably. “Gabe thinks he lost it. He’d had a lot to drink Friday night, in case you didn’t notice.”
    And he was walking around with a floppy disk stuck in his skin-tight leather jeans?
    “I’m pretty sure I would have noticed a loose disk by now,” I said. “I can keep an eye out for it.”
    This must be some valuable disk if Savant was afraid to go anywhere without it -- in which case, how had he managed to lose track of it?
    Reluctantly Friedlander turned back to me. “That would be great,” he said without enthusiasm.
    “This research,” I said, “would it have anything to do with the book Savant isn’t writing?”
    The glasses glinted blindly. “There is no book.”
    “But maybe there should be?”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “And Savant apparently had no idea what he was talking about, so that makes it unanimous. All the same, this isn’t idle curiosity. I’ve heard rumors of a group here in LA.”
    Friedlander stared at me. “My advice to you,” he said. “The next time you hear rumors?
    Cover your ears.”

    20 Josh Lanyon

Chapter Three
    Toward the end of Saturday’s brunch, Lisa wrangled a promise from me to meet “our new family” for dinner Monday night. When I questioned the urgency, she had blushed, said that she and the councilman were considering a winter wedding.
    “You