Arms Dealers

by Erik Henry Vick

“Yeah,” said Dru in a wry tone. “I seem to remember.”

  “Right.” Leery pulled out his chair and sank into it with a sigh. “Speaking of that, did you two get everything worked out?”

  “I think so. I’m going to kill my parents, and she agreed not to arrest me.”

  “Sounds like my kind of plan. Are you sure it will work?”

  Dru flashed a wry grin at him. “You know my father’s undead, right?”

  “Yeah, and I bet your mother has more than a few tricks up her sleeve.”

  “That she does. And Abaddon owes her about a thousand favors. On second thought, you try to kill them while I hide.”

  Leery grinned. “Sounds like a fun evening. Too bad I have Yankees tickets.”

  “It’s not baseball season, Leery.”

  “Right. I meant Knicks tickets.”

  “Ah. You know they are playing away, right?”

  “Sure, sure. I’ve got plane tickets, too.” He grinned at her. “Uh, where are they playing tonight?”

  “Miami.”

  “Ah, good. I can work on my shuffleboard technique in the morning.”

  20

  Van Helsing appeared at Leery’s desk two hours later. “Come with me, Toto. I need you to carry something.”

  “Sometimes a guy gets the feeling he’s only appreciated for his strong back,” said Oriscoe, getting to his feet. “Do I need my coat?”

  “Nah. We’ll meet the Instacart driver at the elevators.”

  “Instacart, huh? You’re getting all techie, Lieu.”

  “Perish the thought, Leery. But it is convenient for a ghost.”

  They walked to the elevator—well, Leery walked and Epatha floated along like his balloon. Leery pressed the button to take them to the first floor, casting a surreptitious glance at Van Helsing.

  “So… Dru says you two worked things out.”

  “We did,” said Van Helsing with a curt nod. “She’s going to talk to her parents.”

  “Right. She asked me to help with that, but I’ve got Knicks tickets.”

  “They’re away tonight.”

  “Does everyone know these things but me?” Leery muttered.

  “Evidently.” Epatha grinned at him.

  “What’s the plan for the asshole in the holding cell?”

  “I had the impression you liked the asshole in holding.”

  Leery nodded. “Yeah, but that was before he cursed at me in Japanese.”

  “How rude.”

  “Yep. I had to look it up on the computer. First, he called me a coward and told me to drop dead. Then, he called me an old fart and told me to shut up.”

  “Oh, the horror.”

  “And that was after I told him names could never hurt me.” Leery grinned, and Epatha chuckled. “Twice in one day, Lieu. You’re going to ruin your reputation as a hardcase if you keep laughing like a giddy schoolgirl.”

  “Shut up, Benji.”

  “Hinton already used that one today. You two need to get some kind of system going.”

  “Clifford, then.”

  “That’s better. I always liked the color red.” The elevator doors slid open with a low grinding sound. Outside, stood a guy in a lime green shirt. “He’s here, Lieu,” Leery murmured. Van Helsing disappeared, as Oriscoe stepped out of the elevator car. “You the Instacart driver?”

  “Yep. Order for Van Helsing?”

  “Right.” Leery reached into his pocket and pulled out a few bills.

  “Thanks, but the tip was included.”

  “Oh. Fine.”

  “So… I’ve got to ask, man.”

  “What’s that, champ?”

  “Is this some kind of a joke? Van Helsing?”

  “Nope, no joke. That’s my lieutenant’s name.”

  “Like in Dracula?”

  “Nah. Well, same name, but her family just happens to be lucky like that. Dracula is fiction, anyway.”

  “Oh, no. It was based on this guy named Vlad the Impaler, who—”

  “Yeah, thanks, but I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “Sorry.” He handed two brown paper bags to Leery. “Here’s the order.”

  “Right. Have a good day.”

  As he stepped back into the elevator, he peeked in the bags. They were filled with bags of dried beans and cartons of eggs. “Are we cooking him lunch, Lieu?”

  “Just wait, Oriscoe. Just you wait.” She reappeared as the elevator doors slid shut. “Nice cover, by the way.”

  “If only that poor sap knew the true story behind Dracula.”

  “Or the Van Helsing clan,” she said.

  “Right. Or that.”

  They re-entered the squad room, and Epatha beelined for the holding cell. “Over here, Nogan,” she called. “Bring that stuff, Leery.”

  The three gathered around the holding cell door, and John May eyed them with frank suspicion. “What’s this?” he asked no one in particular.

  “My detectives tell me you need a little encouragement. Tell us why Lothidn really left the fight circuit.”

  May scoffed and sneered at Van Helsing. “Fuzakeruna, abazure.”

  “Muck-spout.” Van Helsing arched an eyebrow and turned to Leery. “Start with the dry goods. I’m as much a podsnapper as anyone else, but batty-fang this bobolyne.”

  “Uh, sure, Lieu… Whatever you say.”

  She gestured at the bag, then lifted her hand toward May. “Have at him.”

  Leery set the bags at his feet and withdrew two bags of dried beans, handing one to Dru. “Uh, what do we do with them, Lieu?”

  Van Helsing inclined her head and rubbed her eyes. “Throw them, Leery. At him.”

  Leery shrugged and threw the package of dried beans at the cell door, where it slid to the floor with a thump.

  “No, harecop. Throw beans at him, not the package.”

  “Okay.” Leery retrieved his package and split it along the top. He reached in grabbed a handful. “One at a time or?”

  “Handfuls will work.”

  Leery scanned May’s grimacing face and shrugged. He cocked his hand back and let the beans fly. May grunted with each bean that struck him and raised his hands to cover his face.

  “Now, Shuten-doji,” said Van Helsing. “We can do this all day, but if you answer our questions…”

  May turned his back.

  “Again, Leery. You too, Nogan.”

  Oriscoe and Nogan began pelting May with handfuls of dried beans, and he reacted as though it were buckshot, twitching and jerking. They continued throwing beans, and he took small steps toward the back of the cell, grunting and gasping.

  “Had enough?” asked Van Helsing.

  “This is torture,” said May. “Nothing I say will be admissible!”

  “Oh, you’re a magister? Sorry, I didn’t know.” Leery cocked his hand back.

  “Wait! Just wait.”

  “We’re listening,” said the lieutenant.

  “I already told them,” said May. “Lothidn got a better job—one where he wouldn’t have to bleed for his pay.”

  “Uh-huh. He’d just make other people bleed, right?”

  “I don’t know anything else.”

  “Don’t sell me a dog, Shuten-doji. I can smell your lies,” said Van Helsing.

  “It’s—”

  “Leery.”

  Oriscoe let his handful of beans fly, and they slapped into May, driving him to his knees.

  “Stop!”

  “Then speak the truth, son of Oni.”

  “Okay! Okay… A bugge came to see him—ugly son of a bitch. He wanted Lothidn to, uh, perform surgery on a few mundanes. Said there was a market for certain parts—”

  “Arms,” said Leery.

  May nodded. “Sure. Arms. He said there was a back order or something. Lothidn was keen, so…” He hunched his shoulders in a shrug.

  “Right. How do you know all this?”

  “The bugge came to my shop.”

  “And what was his name? This bugge?”
<
br />   “Deermaid. Something like that.”

  “Diarmaid?” said Leery, pronouncing it ‘deer-mid.’

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “This bugge give you a last name?”

  May grimaced and wagged his head side to the side. “I really don’t want to get involved, Oriscoe. The Unseelie Court is…”

  Leery rustled the beans left in his package.

  May held up his hands. “O’Dublin.”

  Leery nodded as if he’d expected it. “Fine.” He glanced at Van Helsing. “Diarmaid O’Duibhne.”

  “See?” she said to May. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She cocked her head and squinted at the demon-spawn. “But there’s more to it, isn’t there.”

  “No, nothing,” said May, staring her in the eye.

  “Oh, I think there is. Let’s stop all this balming.” She gestured at the bag. “We’ve also got eggs. Three hundred sixty of them.”

  May blanched, and he backed up until the bench at the rear of the cell hit the back of his legs. “No…”

  “Yes,” said Epatha with a terse nod. “And I know how to use them.”

  “At least one of us does,” muttered Leery.

  “Out with it, Shuten-doji. All of it.”

  He dropped his gaze and stared at the floor, shoulders hunched. “I need protection.”

  “Protection? From who?”

  “Not who. What,” he said in a weary voice.

  Epatha shot a glance at Leery and lifted her eyebrows.

  Leery leaned against his desk and set the bag of beans down. “The Unseelie Court brokering the work?”

  “Right,” said May after heaving a sigh.

  “For someone that scares even the son of a demon?”

  May lifted his palm toward Leery and let it drop.

  “Who?” asked Epatha.

  “The Zombie mafia, if my guess is right.”

  Inside the cell, May slumped against the back wall. “I’m not saying another word without a deal for protection.”

  Van Helsing nodded to herself. “I’ll go call the LM’s office.”

  21

  Angie Carmichael strode into Van Helsing’s office. She wore a light gray suit embroidered with runes in silver thread. “What’s the emergency?”

  “Did you see that devil in our holding tank?” asked Van Helsing.

  “The Nephilim? What about him?”

  “He’s no angel,” said Leery. “That’s Shuten-doji, in the flesh.”

  Angie raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “What’s he doing in New York?”

  Leery lifted both hands to either side of his face and made quote-fingers. “Turning over a new leaf. Re-inventing himself as an illegal fight promoter and meat packing plant operator.”

  “Meat packing?”

  “To be honest, there’s never any meat there. That’s pretty much a front for his fighting ring.”

  Carmichael smirked. “So not so much re-invention going on.”

  “Not so you’d notice. He’s been my CI for a few years, though. Decent information—most of the time. We had to get creative this time, though. He’s scared.”

  “Scared of what? He’s the child of an Oni, isn’t he?”

  Leery nodded. “Scared of the zombies.”

  She put her hand on her hip, tilting her head to one side. “Zombies.”

  “Noster Est.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” She turned her gaze on Van Helsing, who spread her translucent hands wide. “The Zombie mafia.”

  “That’s what the man says,” said Leery. “He wants protection.”

  “Right.” Angie peeked out the door at May. “And what does he have to trade?”

  “Information on an arms dealing ring.”

  “What kind of weapons are we talking about.”

  “No, no. You misunderstood,” said Epatha. “They are dealing arms, not weapons.”

  “That’s sick!”

  “No argument here.”

  Angie sighed. “Fine. Get him in an interview room where we can talk to him in private, and let’s see what he has to say.”

  Ten minutes later, Leery brought May into the interview room where Angie was seated next to Dru. He pointed at the empty chair and went to perch on the windowsill. “John, meet Angie Carmichael, Assistant Locus Magister. Angie, meet John.”

  “Shuten-doji, you mean.”

  May grimaced. “I’m trying to leave all that behind me.”

  “Indeed. And running an illegal fight operation where you no doubt drink the blood of the wounded is how you chose to start?”

  “We don’t all have silver spoons in our mouths.”

  “Silver spoon? Ha! You don’t know anything about me, demon-spawn.”

  “Likewise, witch.”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I know all about the exploits of Shuten-doji.”

  “In Japan, maybe. That was a century ago.”

  “Tell me, Oriscoe,” said Angie. “How many unsolved abductions of women are there in the Locus of New York?”

  “Mundanes, supers, or both?”

  “Take your pick.”

  Leery turned his gaze on May. “A lot.”

  Angie held up her hand toward Leery. “There you go. Wasn’t that your MO back in Japan, Shuten-doji?”

  “I don’t use that name anymore,” said May in a petulant voice.

  “Right. May, then. Have you gotten up to your old tricks in this locus? Kidnapped women and drank their blood?”

  “No. I… I made other arrangements.”

  “And did your fighters know about those arrangements?”

  May crossed his arms and slumped. “Do you want my information or not?”

  Angie sighed. “What do you know?”

  “I’m not telling you without a deal. I want immunity and protection. A new name, new locus, new job, the works.”

  “You want an awful lot for a demon hiding behind a mask.”

  May shrugged without looking at her.

  “How am I supposed to know your information is worth the price?”

  “It’s about the zombies. About occult cabals.”

  “So I’m told.” Angie sucked her teeth. “We can talk about protection, but transactional immunity? No way.”

  “I’m not going to jail over this farce.”

  “Keep hard balling me and I promise you, you will.”

  May turned his gaze on Leery. “Tell her how I’ve helped you in other cases.”

  “Already did, pal,” said Leery in a quiet voice. “You’ve got to sing for your supper here.”

  John inclined his head, then peeked at Angie. “I want a deal in exchange for information about the zombie body parts operation. I’ll name names of bosses in Noster Est. I’ll give you addresses of processing plants; I’ll tell you how to find the dealers. I’ll give you Lothidn and Diarmaid O’Duibhne. Whatever you want. What’s that worth to you?”

  “Which bosses?”

  “Rose Marie Van Dee, for a start.”

  Angie sat up straight in her chair and looked at Leery, one eyebrow lifted.

  “Got me, counselor. I didn’t know he reached such lofty heights.”

  A smug smile stretched across May’s lips. “So, we were talking about immunity?”

  22

  Angie came back to Van Helsing’s office. “Okay, Epatha. The deal’s signed, but he better come through, or I’ll tie him to the stake myself.”

  “Oh, he’ll talk.”

  Carmichael nodded. “I saw the beans on the floor.” She clicked her teeth. “Risky.”

  Epatha smiled and spread her hands. “We thought he was hungry.”

  Angie held her hand out. “Don’t tell me. It’s better I don’t know.”

  “Is he giving Leery and Dru the information?”

  “Yeah.” Angie glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get back. Let me know if he’s full of crap.”

  “Will do.”

  2
3

  Leery and Dru stood against the wall in the corridor of a seedy three-floor walk-up, arrayed behind the same SWAT team they’d used to bring Lothidn in. Nogan’s face wore a sour, pained expression, but Leery smiled enough for both of them anyway. “Same as last time?” he asked.

  One of the servitor warriors spun in a slow circle. “Yes,” he said in bell-like tones. “Stay back. Let us do our jobs.”

  “Let’s take the alley, Oriscoe,” said Dru. “At least then we might help.”

  “Out there in the cold?”

  “I’m going,” she said and turned toward the stairs.

  Leery turned back to the SWAT officer. “I guess we’ll be in the alley.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “We want everyone—dealers, buyers, guards, cockroaches. Everyone.”

  “Yes, the briefing made that clear.”

  “And if you come across Lothidn—”

  “Yes, yes!”

  Leery nodded and followed Dru down the stairs. “Couldn’t have suggested the alley before we climbed up three flights?”

  “Exercise, Oriscoe. Ever hear of it?”

  “Elevators, Nogan. Ever hear of them?”

  They reached the ground floor and snaked their way back to the alley behind the building. A fire escape hung by rusty bolts from the brick wall, missing its ladder from the first-floor landing to the ground.

  The wind howled down the alley, ruffling Leery’s hair. “Hope you’re happy, Princess,” he muttered.

  “Not especially. I don’t like standing around.”

  “Adrenaline junky.” Leery tsked and shook his head. “Dangerous habit on this job.”

  “No, it’s not that. All my life, servants have taken care of anything distasteful in our household. Disposing of the bodies of Daddy’s victims. Cleaning out Mommy’s bedroom after her supper. I was…shielded from everything that might upset me. Protected. Coddled.”

  “Sounds rough.”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, it was, Oriscoe,” said Dru with some heat in her voice. “Oh, not then; I didn’t know any better. The point is, all those servants, those people who were more like family than my parents, those people suffered in my stead. When I was sixteen, and I realized it, I swore to never again let someone take my place in something nasty.”

  “Well, in this case, Dru, no one is standing in for you. Those therianthropes upstairs knew what they were getting into when they signed up. Hell, they probably want the action. And the servitor warriors? Their wizard counterparts are safe and sound in the C3. No, you’ve got it backward. If we horned our way in, we’d be the ones standing in for them.”