Nadya broke the stalemate first.
“Well? Don’t just stand there,” she said, and waved a folded sheet of paper. “Owl, stop messing around with Rynn and help me pack. Our flight leaves in four hours.”
I glanced at Rynn. “Guess we’re not fighting anymore,” I said.
He shrugged and passed me my bag. “If I’m right a few more times, maybe you’ll start listening.”
“Oh, I listen. It’s the believing part I have a hard time with.”
Rynn yelled something at Nadya in Russian, then gunned the engine. “Be careful this time. Straight to the airport,” he said.
I nodded. That one was easy. I had no intention of chasing after a mad, superpowered vampire.
“Tomorrow night, then,” he said. He winked, slid the visor down, and took off.
I made my way casually towards Nadya. Captain meowed and stood on his hind legs as I walked by. “Figures,” I said, and picked him up. “You’ll do anything for a can of tuna.”
Nadya wasn’t outwardly angry with me anymore. That was clear enough. But it was the subtle changes, the harder set to her jaw and the guarded look she gave me, that told me we weren’t past this yet by a long shot.
“Nadya—” I started, trying to figure out what the hell I needed to say to make things go back to the way they were.
She stopped me with a shake of her head. “Save it. You can’t fix it this time. Not completely, and not right away.”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you about it, but I was so ashamed of the whole thing I just wanted it to go away.”
Hunh. Ironic when you look where that got me.
“That’s only part of it. Am I hurt you hid it from me? Of course. But you did something I never thought you capable of—me, who’s supposed to be your best friend. That scares me—that side of you scares me. Not because I can’t forgive you but because it’s going to get you killed, and I’ve been to enough friends’ funerals.”
She was right, about everything. “What do I have to do?” I said.
She sighed. “We move on, and I hope to hell you show me you’re the person I always thought you were, the person I know is inside there somewhere. Deal?”
I nodded. “Deal.”
Nadya’s mood lightened, and she nodded back towards her building. “Now, help me pack. We leave for the airport in two hours. Dish about last night and I’ll put it towards calling it even.”
“Yeah, what’s this about ‘we’?”
“Something is fishy about all this.” She held up her hand as I started to protest. “Someone has to figure out what the hell is going on while you’re running around. Marie is dangerous, and my nose tells me something else is going on besides just an artifact retrieval.”
“It’s going to be dangerous—” I tried.
Nadya ignored me. “Besides, I have all Nuroshi’s old documents and jump drives. I’ve only scratched the surface, but there’s some good stuff in here. You need me. And I haven’t been to Vegas in a while.”
I sighed. I knew that look. There was no dissuading Nadya once she set her mind to something. A number of Japanese hosts had found that out the hard way. “What flight are we on?”
“Oh, no—your boss is taking this very seriously. We’re going on a private jet.”
Private jet? Wow. Well, hell, maybe I’d even get some work done. “Provided they have coffee and Corona on board, they can bring me in on the Goodyear blimp.”
“By the way, where did you stay last night?” Nadya asked, trying to sound less interested than she was.
“Rynn’s,” I said as offhandedly as I could.
Nadya grinned as she opened her apartment door.
“What?” I said, following her in.
“Sooo, you finally came to your senses and followed Rynn home?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Tough, I do,” she said, and tossed me a bag of jump-stick hard drives.
I sighed and began sliding them into my bag. I tried to keep them in order with Nadya’s color-coded tape. With luck we’d have a chance to get through most of them on the plane.
I searched through the various pockets in my bag. I could have sworn I’d put the scroll and vase in here last night . . . I found a folded note with my name on the front tucked in a side pocket.
It’s not stealing, it’s finding. I’ll return this to the university.
“Son of a bitch.”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. We’re just down twenty grand is all,” I said, and tossed her Rynn’s note.
“You mean you’re down twenty.”
“What?”
“Your boyfriend, your problem.” She shrugged. “Only fair.”
“He’s not my boyfriend—”
“Close enough.”
“Goddamn it. One night and he’s already cost me twenty grand.” I headed into the kitchen for a coffee, pulled out my cell, and texted Rynn.
We need to have a talk about boundaries.
It’s a date. Tomorrow night in Vegas.
I snorted and wrote back. Just please say you still have that scroll. Otherwise I’m down twenty grand to Nadya.
I closed my phone and headed back into the living room. “Everything OK?” Nadya asked.
I sighed. “You know me. I attract trouble.”
13
FANATICS AND COMPUTERS
4:00 p.m., somewhere over the Pacific Ocean
Fanatics and computers don’t go together.
Most people put a couple passwords in and toss in a few extra firewalls if they’re really paranoid.
Fanatics add booby traps.
Nadya swore and shut Bindi’s laptop. I glanced up from the binders and pictures laid out in a circle around me. We’d only been at it for six hours, but Nadya had bags under her eyes and looked like she was about ready for a nap or shower or both.
Well, at least the private plane was a nice touch. The seats were comfortable, and there was plenty of room . . . that, and the stewardesses weren’t skimping with the Corona. “Anything?” I asked.
Nadya shook her head. “Someone didn’t want anyone in these files. I’m terrified to open most of it, because I think there are self-destruct sequences built in, not only to wipe the hard drive—those are in here, too—but also for the computer to explode.” She ran her hand through her hair and took a sip from her tea. She spit it back into the cup. The flight attendant had left it with her over an hour ago; it had to be cold.
“How about you?” she asked.
I swirled what was left of my Corona. I’d spent the last three hours comparing my pictures of the dig against Nuroshi’s students’ files. “I’m not any closer to a translation, but I know I’m right about there being a template stuck in here. There has to be.” I made a face and started flipping through a file I’d discarded hours ago. “I just need to puzzle all the pieces together.”
Nadya cradled a bottle of water in her lap and chewed her lower lip. “I may have found one thing, but,” she said, holding up her hand as I sat up, more alert than I’d been in hours, “if it is anything, it is only a hint. Some of her emails were left open. It may be nothing, but she keeps referring to a ‘device.’ It’s all ramblings, mind you, but I think Mr. Kurosawa’s artifact and this device are one and the same.” Then she showed me the emails.
Sure enough, in between the ravings of a Sabine/Marie-worshiping fanatic, there were references to a “device of blood and destruction, a great equalizer” they’d been looking for in all the same places I’d been.
“Any other mentions of this great equalizer?”
Nadya shrugged. “Beyond those emails it’s gibberish. As you said, this girl is ‘batshit crazy.’ ”
I couldn’t help thinking what Alexander had told me about Marie and what she did to her flunkies.
“It sounds like a weapon more than a device,” I said. I really didn’t like the idea of Marie, or Mr. Kurosawa, for that matter, getting their hands on any
kind of “great equalizer.” Something about the mention of blood got me thinking. I opened my laptop and pulled up the blood pictographs from the first site. There was something about them that didn’t quite fit with the other sets; they were more picture than writing, if that makes sense.
“Hmmm?” I said. I’d completely missed something Nadya had said.
“Do you have something?”
“Kind of sort of.” I flipped my laptop around to show her the images. “I need to do some cross-referencing, but I don’t think this set is part of the writing. I think it might be the codex. I need to run a search for similar images on the net.” I took a closer look. People, or some kind of animal, maybe dancing around a ring . . . or, for all I knew, it could have been a gathering of gods, or a hunt; ancient pictographs aren’t exactly known for precision. You’d be amazed how many are horribly misinterpreted. Those cave pictures in France, for example? They aren’t chasing the animals to eat them.
I’ll let you mull that one over.
I closed the laptop and finished off my Corona. “Regardless, it’ll have to wait until we reach Vegas. I need access to online archives, and I need some sleep. Maybe Mr. Kurosawa can even shed some light on what the hell he has us chasing after.”
Before I’d stepped on the plane, Oricho had left a message saying Mr. Kurosawa was reluctant to meet me. I’d called back, gotten his voice mail, and left a message. “Oricho, Mr. Kurosawa can stuff his ‘reluctance.’ I don’t care if you have to move heaven and earth in the next twelve hours, get me that meeting.”
A half hour later he’d sent me another message, this time saying he “. . . perhaps had arranged an appointment with Mr. Kurosawa.”
How the hell do you “perhaps” arrange an appointment?
Nadya glared at me. “Alix, please, I am begging you. Don’t mouth off to the dragon. Not while I’m there.”
“Depends,” I said, and settled back into one of the plush chairs.
Nadya glared. “Depends on what?”
I frowned. Where did they keep the blankets on private planes? In first class they always had them right by the seat. I started looking under the chair. “On how much I think he’s hiding. I’m getting sick and tired of vampires and other assorted supernatural creatures trying to off me on this job.”
“What about the inside person? The one who is feeding Marie information?” Nadya said.
I let out a low whistle. “My money is on Lady Siyu. I can’t prove it yet, but I think she’s the one who wants me dead.”
“Why would she risk betraying a dragon just to kill you?”
“Wait until you see her. She’s a real piece of work, hates humans—Come to think of it, that might be enough. Turning the device and me over to Marie could be a big ‘eff you’ to her boss for bringing a human onto this job. You don’t know these monsters like I do—count yourself lucky. They don’t think like us, and the ones who don’t think we’re food figure we ought to be indentured servants. And they’re petty; they spend more time fighting with each other than an ’80s rock band.”
Nadya shook her head. “I still think it’s far-fetched. Why not just wait until you finished your work for her boss and then poison you, or strangle you or something . . . what?” she said when I frowned. When I didn’t respond, she continued, “Just because they’re petty and think we’re insects doesn’t mean they’re incapable of logical thought.”
I shook my head. “I’ll have a better idea what’s going on after I speak with Mr. Kurosawa,” I said, and shut my eyes to try and get some sleep during the flight’s remaining three hours.
Just as soon as I’d started to drift off, Captain complained. I groaned.
“You couldn’t have asked earlier?” I said. He swished his tail and danced on his front paws. I pushed myself up and led him to the washroom.
“No rest for the wicked,” I said.
7:00 p.m., Vegas.
Oricho was waiting for us at the airport with a black limo.
“Hi, Oricho,” I said before tossing my bags in. “Did you get me my meeting?”
He frowned. “With some effort. Mr. Kurosawa and Lady Siyu were not happy with the demand.”
“Well, tough. If he wants this job finished, I need to speak with him, not you and Lady Siyu.”
“I related as much. Though I caution you to be careful in your treatment of this request. A dragon requests one’s presence; they are not accustomed to granting audiences.”
“Yeah, I figured as much,” I said as Nadya, Captain, and I piled into the back. “I promise I’ll try to be careful.”
Nadya snorted and rolled her eyes. Well, I’d try my best. Whether I’d succeed or not was a different matter.
We headed through the Vegas strip to the Japanese Circus. Nadya and I didn’t say anything on the ride over, just watched all the pretty lights go by. I wondered how many supernatural entities lived here. Somehow I doubted it would hold much appeal for anything other than dragons or vampires, maybe a succubus or incubus. Most supernatural creatures like a sense of history, roots in civilization. Vegas is just a flood of lights and a hell of a lot of people partying.
Even Captain didn’t make a fuss on the ride over. Sometimes the universe says silence is the best course of action. When that happens, I try to listen.
It wasn’t until we passed the main entrance of the Japanese Circus that I perked up. We headed straight for the underground garage.
“Hey, Oricho, what’s going on?”
“Mr. Kurosawa has given explicit instructions for this meeting. We are to use a separate entrance.”
“Well, can we at least let Nadya off? She doesn’t need to be here.”
“I’m afraid that is not possible,” he said, all business. The glass partition slid up between us.
“What’s going on?” Nadya mouthed.
I shrugged. Shit. This wasn’t good. There was no reason she had to meet a dragon.
“Oricho?” I tried. But there was no response through the glass.
The car didn’t stop until we reached the fourth basement. The lights dimmed, and as hard as I tried to peer out the window, I couldn’t make out a damn thing. That the doors were automatically locked didn’t escape my notice either. Captain gave a low growl.
“Yeah, I’m not much fond of this cloak-and-dagger crap either,” I told him.
“Reminds me of stories my parents used to tell me of the Russian Secret Service taking people away in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. Only they didn’t use limos,” Nadya said.
I bit my lower lip. Could we make a run for it? Not likely, and besides, Oricho didn’t seem to hate humans as much as most of the supernatural world did. At least he had a sense of fair play. We were also too far underground. Better to wait until we were in the casino to make a run for it if we had to . . . if we made it that far.
There were no parked cars on the fourth level. Oricho pulled up beside a black door embossed with the gold lotus designs I’d seen on the roof. The car door swung open. I crawled out first. Captain growled again and raised his hackles. I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying not to look as shaken as I was.
The door opened on its own into a wood-paneled hallway, complete with bamboo-paneled floors done in feudal Japanese style. Only the electric torches hinted at its modernity and lit the walls painted red with black lotus designs. Oricho stood aside and waved us through. I glanced over at his impassive face, and my temper spiked. Here I was, terrified we were going to be eaten by a dragon, and Oricho looked like this was just another day of work.
“I get the sinking feeling I’m being pushed into the thieves’ entrance of a dragon mousetrap,” I said as I passed him by.
He raised his tattooed eyebrow, the closest I think he came to surprise. “I give you my solemn word that is not Mr. Kurosawa’s intent. He feels it safest if no one knows you are here and wishes you to use this entrance.”
“Nadya doesn’t need to be here though.”
Oricho shook his head on
ce. “He wishes to meet your business partner.”
I hesitated over the threshold.
Oricho added, “You have my word no unjust misfortune shall befall you or your companions.”
“That all depends on what your definition of just and unjust is,” I said. That was about as good as I figured I’d get from Oricho, and he didn’t strike me as one who gave his word lightly. Whereas humans could break their word whenever the hell they felt like it with no consequences, the supernatural—with the exception of vampires and a few other bottom feeders—were physically bound to their word. Think genies. I hoped Oricho was that kind.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said, and stepped into the red hallway, Nadya and Captain close behind me.
My eyes started to adjust to the electric torches, and I did a double take. It was a tunnel more than a hallway, and it was covered with murals in sealed glass cases, all scenes of samurai. Old murals, if I was any judge, like feudal Japan. The colors were beautifully preserved, easily one hundred grand per case, maybe more, depending on whether it was a known artist or rare . . .
I caught Oricho studying me.
“This is my own private collection,” he said. “I had this entrance constructed when we relocated ten years ago. The paintings remind me of home—and more comforting times.”
“They’re beautiful. 1000 AD, I can’t place them though . . .” I stopped in my tracks as my eyes fell on the largest painting, a battle scene between an army and a red dragon. Amongst all the paintings, six in total displayed a supernatural element.
“You will not place them,” Oricho said, stepping beside me, running a hand across the glass case beside the dragon battle scene. A samurai fighting a green and gold naga . . .
“I made them myself. These,” he said, indicating the six supernatural paintings, “are originals. The others are reproductions of paintings burned in a fire outside Osaka more than one thousand years ago.” He motioned to a mural of two blindfolded samurai navigating a dragon’s lair, the dragon clinging to the rocks above, waiting for them to pass. Both the samurai had half their faces covered in black tattoos. Just like Oricho’s. I swallowed hard and caught him studying my reaction.
Owl and the Japanese Circus Page 23