“The Church has people out there proselytizing. We catch them sometimes, but not often. They’ve formed a kind of underground railroad that ferries converts from one place to another. The rally points change every time; we don’t know where the next one will be.”

“But you do know where they go for supplies?”

“They vary that, too. We haven’t figured out how they place the order; probably through someone on the outside, because we’re monitoring phones, cell frequencies, Internet, et cetera. We follow them when they leave, but we can’t get ahead of them. What bugs we’ve managed to slip in have been intercepted and destroyed before they get inside.”

That was not as much information as I’d hoped, but what had I expected—that Pearl would leave this facility as sloppily run as the one in California? No, she learned from mistakes, most definitely.

“Have you managed to get anyone inside the compound undercover?” I asked.

Without a flicker, he said, “Not yet.” I couldn’t tell whether he was lying; it was entirely possible he meant what he’d said. Still. it never hurts to cultivate a reputation for supernatural keenness, and so I gave him a slow, wicked smile, and said, “Liar. You do have someone inside. Who?”

He frowned, just a slight groove between his eyebrows. “Where are you getting that? I just told you we don’t.”

“I’m an Earth Warden. We know a lie when we hear one. Please, don’t insult me by continuing to bluff.”

For a long moment, I thought that my bluff had been called, but then he shook his head and said, “We did, until two days ago.”

“What happened two days ago?”

“Our agent walked out of the gates, came to find me, and told me that she’d seen the error of her ways and she was quitting the bureau. Then she turned and walked back inside.” He turned to the monitors, looking at each in turn, and then pointed at one of them—the field, and the people out in the sun using the hoes. “There. That’s her.”

“You’re sure she wasn’t just trying to get in deeper with them, or preserve her cover?”

Rostow’s mouth set in a flat, grim line. “I know Stephanie,” he said. “Known her a long time. I can tell you that wasn’t an act, and it damn sure wasn’t Stephanie. What went into that compound was a great agent; what came out to quit was a true believer. She got turned. I know it in here.” He tapped his gut with one hand. I believed him. There was no reason for him to lie about it, and there was real pain in his expression. “I hate losing people, but I’d rather lose them honestly than have them brainwashed into a cult.”

“You realize that she will have already told them everything she could about you, your operation here, and anything else that could be helpful to them.”

His eyes turned blank and hard. “No shit. Surprisingly enough, I did think of it. So what other stunning revelations do you have to share with me, Warden?”

“If you help me get inside, I can get information back to you freely.”

That made him frown. “Freely. As in, anytime you want.”

“Exactly.”

“How?”

I smiled, just a little, and fluttered his eardrum in a whisper. I just can, I said, and he jerked in surprise and clapped a hand over his left ear. “What the hell?”

“Warden abilities,” I said. “You won’t be able to communicate back to me, but I can talk to you across a considerable distance, as long as I can find you on the aetheric.”

“I’m going to pretend that last part made sense,” he said, “because I like the first part a lot. Trouble is, you’re just a tad recognizable—maybe not as a Djinn, but you sure don’t look like a likely recruit, either.”

“I can manage.”

“Do you have any idea of your own arrogance, lady?”

“Yes,” I said. “Do you have any idea of yours?” One of the FBI agents pinned to the van let out a choked sound that was almost a laugh. I didn’t blink. “I will let your people go if you promise good behavior. If not, you may wish to invest in some kind of welding equipment.”

Rostow considered all that, and it was obvious that he really, really wanted to tell me to go to hell, but he finally nodded reluctantly. “All right,” he said. “Last thing I want to do is piss off the Wardens right now. Let them go. I promise we’ll play nice.”

That did not seem to me to be an exact enough definition of cooperation—not for a Djinn—but he seemed sincere enough. I extended my hand, and after a hesitation he accepted the gesture and shook firmly.

As he did so, I released his people from their bonds. Some, overbalanced, sprawled on the van floor; others grabbed for their weapons. “Enough of that!” Rostow snapped, still shaking my hand. “Stand down. Not sure your guns will fire any better than mine, and we don’t need more excitement in close quarters right now.”

The agents quieted down, positioning themselves carefully. I noticed they did so with an eye to firing cleanly at me, should that be necessary. I didn’t mind. I would restore their ability to fire their weapons, but not until I left the van.

“Now,” I said, looking Rostow in the eye, “tell me how you plan to get me into the compound.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You’ve already selected another agent, and you’re planning to infiltrate within the next few days.”

I had to give him credit—he really didn’t allow me to shock him this time. “I don’t know where you’re getting this stuff, but it isn’t—”

“It must be,” I said, “because otherwise your superiors would be demanding action of some kind, and it’s been quiet and tranquil here in what I can only think is your command center. No demanding phone calls. No tension. So you have a plan, which you are in the process of executing.”

A couple of agents murmured in the background, while Rostow stared bleakly at me without speaking. I waited, then said, “All I ask for is a chance. Put me in the same way you’re introducing your own agent. I can serve as backup, which could be the difference between success and failure, or life and death. I’m offering you help. Take it.”

“Like I said”—he shrugged—“you’re don’t exactly blend in.”

I closed my eyes and concentrated on my physical body. It took a great deal of power—more than I could easily spare—but I slowly, carefully altered the black of my hair to a short, mousy brown, and my skin to something unremarkable for the area. My face I shifted to one I’d glimpsed in Albuquerque months ago—not pretty, not ugly, not memorable at all, except that I’d noted it for future reference. I shortened my stature and shifted the inert textures of my clothes to something bland, blocky, nothing of any identifiable style at all. After a moment’s thought, I roughened the condition, added dirt and spots of grime, and the smells of old food, smoke, and unwashed sweat.

I looked like any of the thousands of struggling, subsistence-level poor to be found in any city.

I opened my eyes, looked directly at Rostow, and said, “Do I blend in now?”

I sensed it wasn’t often that a man like him experienced amazement, but that was as close as he came—widened eyes, slightly open mouth that quickly snapped shut as he realized others were looking on. He needn’t have worried, though. His people all looked far more thoroughly impressed, and unnerved.

“I guess that’d do,” he said. “Can you—ah, do that whenever you want?”

I smiled faintly. He had no real idea of what it had just cost me. I had drained myself dangerously low, but the important thing had been to make a definitive impression. I felt the cost was justified. “No,” I said, and didn’t elaborate. “Will you trust me?”

“No,” Rostow said. “But you’ve got a good point about my agent needing on-site backup. So I may not trust you, but you’d be damn useful right about now.”

“You’ll send me in.”

“I’ll recommend it,” he said. “I’ve got bosses, lady.”

I actually thought he was lying. Not about the bosses, perhaps—I was sure he did, in fact, have those—but about the need to run the question by them for approval. It was much more likely that he just wanted time to think. I could understand that, and respect it, so I nodded my acceptance.