“That is something to consider,” Rhyme said, and she did.
Webmistress didn’t have the sought-after meteorite, but she’d certainly orchestrated her share of museum heists, many of which had been successful. Rhyme didn’t often contract out that kind of work, but trying to hit the museum again herself would just be predictable. It also could play into the hands of her half-sisters, or the pesky cop who had foiled her the previous time.
Even relying on intuition, it was hard to outthink a probability skewer, as Rhyme had discovered in the failed surveillance attempt that had ultimately brought her to the Web of Shadows. There was no way of knowing just how completely her fate was now tangled up with Karen Seven. It was possible that they’d just keep crossing paths no matter what Rhyme did. It was also possible that her luck would keep them apart as long as Rhyme took no moves against her.
The safest thing for her to do was to stay away from Nebula City entirely.
It made sense. She liked Drossen, and didn’t wish to see him harmed… not at the present time, or by tenuous extension, any later time. She was focused on a goal for the moment: retrieve the meteorite so she could begin her final revenge. Petty acts of vengeance against individuals like Clevenger or Janie or Karen Seven would not only pale in comparison, they would be made redundant.
She rather suspected that people like Seven would be among the first victims of her grand plan. How else would a good luck power respond to a situation where the luckiest people were the ones who would die quickly?
She chuckled at the thought of it.
She quickly undid her sabotage of the communications system… Webmistress knew she was in the lab with Drossen’s head, after all.
“Listen,” she said, cutting off Webmistress’s attempt to speak. “I’ve made up my mind for the moment and I’m about to offer you a deal I really think you should take, because the thing about my mind is it changes. I’m going to leave you with Drossen’s head. He can provide you with all the expertise you need to turn I Can’t Believe It’s Not Clevenger into a talking head. In return, you will acquire for me a mineral sample from the Nebula City Museum of Natural History’s astronomy wing, the transuranic meteorite sample from the Waukegan Blast.”
“What’s stopping me from shooting you to pieces and taking Drossen?” Webmistress asked.
“The same thing that stopped you from shooting me to pieces on my way back here,” Rhyme said. “Me.”
“You didn’t actually do anything,” Webmistress said.
“I did one thing more than your biotech expert did,” Rhyme said. “You know, clones like her are the reason the tech support guy always has to ask ‘uh, are you sure it’s plugged in?’ before they help you. Anyway, if it galls you too much to pay me for my insight, think of it as negotiating with a terrorist.”
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