I glance again at the woman. Hands flat on the table, unmoving. No obvious heat. She’s almost certainly packing, but the wire reassures me I could splatter her long before she could pull anything. Yet she was able to adjust the intensity of the room’s light even without obvious controls. Has to be concealed tech, probably including an internal radio or cel phone link. Either that or magic. Otherwise how could she and her goons outside have orchestrated this setup?