Sleight

by Tom Twitchel

  That wasn’t a complete surprise. “To what?”

  “Weller. There’s an Irena Weller listed as the registered owner of a penthouse condo in the ritziest building near the water. Downtown. Near Pike Place Market.” He was excited and tense. It made reading his mental state iffy.

  “Good job, man. That was really fast. Kenwoode will be happy you’ve tracked her down. We should tell him when we get back, or maybe head back up and fill him in right now. If she‘s on some sort of schedule timing is important.”

  “Umm. I have another idea,” he said, looking over his shoulder and then back at me. A sly look spread over his face. My nerves jangled nervously as I picked up a burst of energy surging through him.

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  Leaning closer to me as we walked down the street he whispered, “We take a little detour. Scope out her place, do a little recon and report back.” He was obviously waiting for me to agree. Problem was, I didn’t. I was remembering Kenwoode making me promise that I wouldn’t go off script. This little idea would certainly fall into the half-cocked category.

  “No, I think we should go upstairs right now.” I stopped and started to turn around.

  Grabbing my arm and pulling me along, he gestured wildly with his other hand. “And let Brock play badass and we miss out? Come on. We won’t do anything. We’ll just check it out. Besides, if she’s not where I think she is, if the data’s old, I don’t want to hear Brock talk smack about me not knowing my stuff.”

  There was that. But a little embarrassment seemed like a small price to pay for doing it the right way. “What if we qualify it that way? Say that it might not be a hundred percent verifiable. Then you’re off the hook if—”

  Sawyer threw his head back and groaned. “Dude! Come on! They’re up there eating and chilling. How long will it take anyway? Two hours tops. We won’t do anything. We’ll just, like, check it out.”

  I wondered if it was this kind of disregard for structure or method that made Brock dislike Sawyer. Kenwood had warned him as well, but his pleading was wearing me down. I didn’t like Brock either. I was also still trying to get over the shock of meeting Constance and trying to determine what I should do about researching her question.

  “Can you track down genealogy?” I asked.

  He was caught off guard by the abrupt change in the conversation. “What? Like family tree type stuff?”

  “Mostly, but probably a little more complicated than a straight up search.”

  He nodded. “Benny, I got the skills. Practically nothing I can’t find.”

  I made a decision. “Okay let’s go check out the address you found. But we do nothing. Right?”

  Head bobbing in immediate agreement he clapped his hands together, creating a sizzling sound. “Absolutely!”

  “And when we get back you help me track someone else down, and do another computer hack favor for me. Deal?”

  “I’d do that anyway.”

  As he led me over to a crosswalk a shiver ran down my spine. I was hoping I hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

  THIRTY-TWO: JUNIOR DETECTIVES

  SAWYER GAVE ME the address and I figured out the bus route. As we rode in one of the older electrical buses heading toward the Pike Place area he smiled every time the contactors hit an electric bridge and sparks crackled overhead. I tried to relax and convince myself that we weren’t screwing up.

  I’d ridden lots of buses with other friends: Baffle before he went crazy, Maddy and Breno. Thinking about Maddy I got excited about seeing her again and that made me think about Justine. I hoped she was just hiding from her parents, but the fact that she hadn’t texted me wasn’t a good sign. Waking up my phone with a tap I shot off another text to her hoping for the best.

  “Chattin’ up a lady friend?” Sawyer chuckled.

  “Sort of. Just trying to reach Justine. I’m worried about her.”

  Sawyer took his cell from his pocket. “Give me her number.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because I can use one of my own apps to locate her phone. Who’s her carrier?”

  I gave it to him, marveling at his nonchalant attitude when he talked about being able to do things that sounded very James Bond-ish.

  “Why didn’t you mention that you could do that earlier?” I asked.

  He smirked as he typed into his phone. “Can’t divulge all my secrets in front of the upper management. ‘Sides, sometimes I use it to track people who would be pissed if they knew.”

  “Brock,” I said.

  “Yup.” His fingers flew over his phone’s screen and then he tapped it twice. Looking over his shoulder I saw a map of Washington appear, zoom in to Puget Sound and then zoom further into a street map view of Seattle. A red dot flashed in the lower right hand corner of the screen.

  “Is that her?” I pointed at the red dot.

  He shook his head. “Nah, that’s my phone. That means I’m not getting any data on the search. She either has her phone turned off or she’s in an area where the signal can’t be picked up.”

  “Thanks for trying.”

  He looked up and smiled ruefully, almost in a guilty way. “Hey, I gotchu.”

  As disappointed as I was that his search had been unsuccessful I was deeply appreciative of his camaraderie. I had so little social contact that it felt good to spend time with someone closer to my own age.

  “So what’s with you and Dr. Santome?”

  My nerves jittered and I’m sure my face flushed. “Why? What?” I stalled, wracking my brain for an answer that would shut down that line of conversation.

  He gave me an ‘are-you-kidding-me’ look.

  I wasn’t going to be able to put him off the topic that easily. “She reminded me of somebody, that’s all.” He continued to stare at me. “Uncanny. Really blew me away that she wasn’t who I thought she was.”

  Quirking his lip in a half smile he said, “Seemed like whoever you thought she was, you must have had some history that meant a lot to you.”

  Easy to read, that’s me I guess. “Yeah, well, wasn’t her.” I hoped he’d drop it. To help that along I decided to ask a question of my own. “What’s the deal with Kenwoode? Why does he limp? You said his knack made him a boss, but he moves so...so...”

  “Like a grampa?”

  “Yeah,” I smiled.

  “It’s tied to his talent, but I can’t tell you what. He like kind of resents his talent. You’ll have to get that from him or see it for yourself. It takes a toll on him. But it is truly badass.”

  I pressed, “Not even a hint?”

  “Sure. You give me a hint about you and Constance, and I’ll give you a hint,” he chuckled.

  Got me. “Um, no, that’s cool. Nothing to tell really. I guess I’ll have to wait to see him being his bad self on my own.”

  “Fair enough. But I’ll say this: he doesn’t do his thing very often. Stuff’s got to be seriously screwy for him to bring it on. And then, watch out.” He leaned back, and scrolled through his phone, quickly getting lost in it. He’d certainly piqued my curiosity, and he was definitely curious about my reaction to Constance.

  When the bus clattered to a stop on First we got off and started walking north. The condominium complex Sawyer had identified was in an area that was part of an urban reclamation project. Several full color expensive construction signs heralded the ‘new’ downtown lifestyle with more boutique shopping and luxury condos. We found a restaurant with a covered sidewalk patio that was directly across the street from a building labelled Empire Estates.

  “She’s got a penthouse condo in that building. I figure we get some dinner and watch the traffic flow. Maybe get lucky and see her, or the guy she hired,” Sawyer said as we walked into the restaurant, where we were greeted by a coolly-polite host.

  After the host had seated us at a table next to a gas heater I nudged Sawyer. “How do you know what the creep she hired looks like?”

  Smirking, he showed me the screen of his phone. A hand
some clean-shaven face with a cleft chin stared back at me. “That’s him? He looks like a model. The last two guys she had working for her looked like thugs,” I whispered, pulling out a chair.

  Sawyer shrugged. “Maybe she upgraded. This guy had some seriously nasty cred. Not nice. She was looking for a heavy hitter.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Don’t know. The site only used handles, screen names, for obvious reasons. He goes by Silver.”

  It struck me as odd. Her previous behavior had been to find Naturals with low level knacks that helped them to seek out other Naturals as prospective prey. What Sawyer had described, and the guy’s looks, smacked of a professional hitman.

  “So the plan is to just sit here and hope to see something? Not much of a plan,” I complained.

  “Don’t worry about it. Let’s eat. If we see something...great. If not...well maybe we try to tip the scales in our favor.” He winked conspiratorially.

  “No,” I said. “We agreed that we wouldn’t do anything. If we don’t happen to see her, we just head back and leave it at that.”

  “Sure, sure,” he responded, picking up a menu and hiding behind it.

  The prices were high, so I ordered a sandwich and water. The food was good, and we spent our time eating slowly, watching people leave and enter the condo building. Sawyer picked up the check, refusing to accept any cash.

  “Thanks for dinner. At least it wasn’t a complete waste of time,” I said, pulling on my jacket.

  Downing the last of his drink Sawyer shook his head. “Yeah. Look, there’s something I need to tell you...” and then his eyes went wide.

  Turning to see what he was looking at I saw a couple approaching the building entrance. A man was supporting a girl who seemed drunk or sick. My stomach lurched. I knew why Sawyer had gawked. The man was the model-perfect thug-for-hire whose picture he’d shown me. But that wasn’t what had caused my stomach to flip over.

  The companion he was steering into the building had short platinum-white hair.

  THIRTY-THREE: MISSION IMPOSSIBLE

  I JUMPED OUT of my chair and vaulted the low patio fence. Behind me Sawyer yelled something that I’m sure was supposed to slow me down. Not looking back I ran across the street and reached the entrance seconds after they entered the building. Grasping a door handle I wrenched it open and started to walk inside when a uniformed doorman stepped forward and raised a hand to stop me.

  “Excuse me sir,” he said, giving me a hard look that poorly concealed his opinion of my attire and presence in his domain. “Are you a guest of one of the residents?”

  Looking over his shoulder I could see the retreating back of the gangster who was practically dragging Justine toward an elevator.

  Thinking fast I said, “My sister.” I pointed ahead at Justine’s retreating form. “She’s sick. I was parking the car.”

  He looked at me suspiciously as Sawyer arrived.

  “Is she okay?” he asked, breathlessly.

  I decided to play off what he’d said. “No! Uncle Chuck had to practically carry her in here!”

  “Well let’s catch up before...Chuck grabs the elevator.”

  The doorman wasn’t having any of it. “Gentlemen. If you wait here I’ll phone the resident and verify your relationship. Who are you claiming to know?” He looked down his nose at Sawyer’s beanie and corduroy pants.

  Stepping up close to the doorman Sawyer looked at me and said, “Phil, catch up to them and I’ll stay here with Mr. I-don’t-care-about-anyone-but-myself.”

  It took me one second to realize I was ‘Phil’. I dodged past the doorman and hustled to catch Justine and the man.

  “Sir! I mus—tuh—urk!” I looked back to see Sawyer with his shoulder under one of the doorman’s arms, barely able to keep him from falling down. His confident handling of the doorman seemed out of character, but I was moving too fast to take the time to think much of it.

  By the time I got to the elevators Justine and Silver the hitman had already taken one. I watched the numbers above it to see which floor it had stopped at: twenty, the top floor. Sonja’s arrogance seemed to be running true to form. Glancing back I saw Sawyer lug the unconscious doorman into a corner and then race up to me. He came to a sliding stop on the polished marble floor. Our good fortune that the lobby was deserted seemed too good to be true.

  “Did you get a floor number?” He gasped.

  “Yeah, twenty, but we’re stuck.” I pointed at a digital card reader next to the elevators. “I can’t knack digital locks.”

  Without any hesitation he placed a hand on the reader. White electrical current pulsed over his hand and the reader. The call button for the elevator glowed green and the doors opened. I dug into my pocket and yanked out my phone.

  “What are you doing?” Sawyer asked as we stepped into the elevator. He punched the button for the twentieth floor, and the elevator door closed. The car started smoothly ascending.

  “I’m texting Kenwoode. We might need help and if anything happens to us I want someone to know where we are.” I started typing out a text.

  “Wait, wait. Don’t do it yet. Let’s see if we can do this ourselves,” he pleaded.

  I paused. I didn’t see how it could hurt to send the text. “Why? This is a big deal Sawyer. It could get out of hand really fast and then we might not have the time to call for help.”

  “Just wait. I talked you into this. I don’t want to piss off Mr. K. or hear any crap from Brock.”

  The doors slid open and I looked down at my phone. No signal. I punched the text anyway. “Sorry man. We could be in trouble. You’re gonna have to be okay with me sending this.”

  Frowning and sighing he followed me into the hall. It was wide and long with only three doors opening onto it. Two on each side with the third facing us from the far end.

  “Where do we start? We can’t just knock,” Sawyer said.

  Thinking about Sonja’s need for being on top of everything I pointed at the single door at the end of the high-ceilinged hall. “There. That’s her. That’s her style for sure.”

  He nodded. “Okay. What’s our play?”

  That made me hesitate. Good question. We couldn’t walk in there blazing away, especially since we didn’t have any weapons. At least not conventional weapons. I had my knacks, and my stun gun was tucked into its holster under my jacket.

  “You hang out here in the hall, and keep watch. I’ll go inside and try to figure out where she’s being held. Then I’ll come back to get you and we’ll work it together,” I said.

  He looked at me questioningly. “Not that I’m afraid to camp out here in the hall, but what makes you the right choice to scope out the inside?”

  By way of answering I invoked my camouflage knack. Sawyer’s reaction was predictable, and more than a little satisfying.

  He shook his head. “Unbelievable. Is there anything else you can do? Okay that makes you the lead on recon for sure.” He looked over his shoulder toward the elevator bay. “We should hurry.”

  Keeping my camo in place I knacked the lock and pushed the door wide enough to slip in, and closed it behind me without letting it latch.

  The entry to the penthouse condo was large and spacious. The ceilings were high and expensive artwork was on display in inset coves leading into the main room. The paintings and sculptures were disturbing. Medieval depictions of battle, hunting parties and one demented looking piece that looked like Dante’s Inferno.

  Charming.

  Entering the main living area I moved slowly so that my camo wasn’t forced to adjust rapidly to changes in my surroundings. Windows ran the entire length of the far wall, floor to ceiling. There must have been over a thousand square feet of glass overlooking the water.

  A large bar with several ornately carved stools ran along one wall the led to the largest flat screen TV I’d ever seen. On the opposite end of the living area was a huge open kitchen, dominated by stainless steel and white stone. All empty. I turned back tow
ard the bar area and a hallway entrance to the right of it. It was well lit from skylights set in the ceiling, and had several doors opening on to it. The sleeping quarters had to be where Justine was being held. We had followed five minutes behind them at the most and had been at the front door a couple of minutes more. He’d moved quickly.

  Stepping into the hall I stood quietly and listened.

  A low murmuring came from one of the rooms with an open door. Moving as silently as I could, my camo in full effect, I padded down the hall toward the sound. As I got closer the sound resolved itself into a man’s deep voice. Hesitating at the door’s threshold, I held my breath and peeked around the door frame.

  The room was more like a doctor’s office than a room you would find in someone’s home. Justine was sitting in a heavy metal chair that would have been at home in a modern art museum.

  Silver was flipping white metal fastenings that held Justine’s ankles and wrists in place, talking to her while he worked on them.

  “Wouldn’t want you to slip away before the boss shows up,” he said as he snapped another ankle restraint closed.

  Justine looked at him through sleepy heavy-lidded eyes, a smirk lifting the corner of her mouth. “Wouldn’ slip ‘way. Run maybe. You’re cute, too bad you’re such a skeez.” She slurred her words and her head lolled from side to side.

  He grinned evilly. “Mmm. Too bad we won’t have much time together alone.” He ran a finger down her cheek and neck, his grin spreading wider. I could feel my face get hot.

  Justine rolled her head slowly to look up at him. “See wha I’m sayin’? Skeez.”

  I’d heard enough. “Hey, sleaze-bucket! Get your hands off her!” Dropping my camo, I whipped a focused and concentrated telekinetic shot at him.

  I can’t imagine what would have happened if I’d waited before I’d thrown my knack influence at him. His hands left Justine immediately, he spun, reached under his jacket, pulled a gun and got off a shot before he’d finished his spin.