“Sir, madam, if you please.”
Magnus refused to move. “I don’t have a name for your employer,” he said in a soft, menacing tone. “Or a final destination for this trip. I’ll need both before we get into that car, and if you don’t give me what I ask for, or if you do and I don’t believe you, I’ll make life extremely unpleasant for you, my friend. And by unpleasant I mean painful.”
To his credit, the driver barely blinked. Lu guessed he was probably used to this kind of thing.
“I understand completely, sir,” he said, polite and professional as a majordomo. “However I’m sure my employer would prefer to give you that information himself.” His head tipped toward the open door.
Ah, yes. Lu smelled several different scents wafting from the open door of the limousine. Tobacco and leather and expensive aftershave, the woody spice of an old scotch, and something that might have been . . . fur?
Yes, fur. There was a dog in that car, of all things. To punctuate her finding, it yipped, an anxious, high-pitched sound, followed in quick succession by a rapid-fire burst of more.
A small dog. Wonderful. Lu wondered what on Earth would greet them when they looked inside the car.
Slowly, Magnus approached the open door. The driver backed away, giving another respectful little bow, allowing him space. Magnus bent down and peered inside. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because he looked at Lu and nodded. He held out his hand, beckoning.
“We’re leaving the bikes?”
From inside the car, a deep, accented voice replied, “Someone’ll be along to fetch ’em, luv. You let Gregor MacGregor worry about that, so you can worry about the bigger picture.”
Scottish, she guessed, by the lilt and charm of it, and by the name. Assuming he had the odd habit of referring to himself in third person, and wasn’t talking about someone else. Drawn onward by curiosity more than anything else, she reached Magnus, took his hand, and bent her head to look inside the car.
There, taking up most of the wide leather seat, was a bear of a man, hale and solid, with close-cropped ginger hair, and a beard to match. He wore an expensive black suit and a gold pinky ring, and had a diamond-encrusted gold watch almost the size of the trembling Yorkie cowering in his lap. He was close to sixty, with the air of a self-made man who’s come up from the gutter, and has long since abandoned denying himself any pleasure to which he feels due.
“If you’re thinkin’ I’m a gangster or a pimp, you’re spot-on, darlin’,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying her shrewd assessment of his person. “There’s not a thing in this world Gregor MacGregor won’t buy or sell, as long as it lines his pockets.” He waved them in, giving the dog a spasm. He shushed it with coos and kisses, calling it “baby,” hugging it close to his chest.
“Doesn’t like strangers,” he explained once they were settled on the seats across from him. “Although this particular breed is prone to shittin’ themselves if they hear a bloody pin drop.”
“Not much of a watch dog,” Lu concurred, watching its glittering black eyes roll wildly as it shivered and whined. It wore a chunky gemstone collar Lu thought was probably real.
“Ha!” snorted MacGregor. “Tisn’t! But that’s what bodyguards are for, luv. Pets are just to remind you not to be so goddamn selfish. Much like women.” He grinned, revealing a charming, wolfish smile, perfectly suited to the charming wolfishness of his face.
Lu grinned back. Beside her, Magnus was silent, but Lu felt the tension easing from him incrementally as they talked.
The driver shut the door, returned to his seat, and put the car in gear. They rolled quickly away over the narrow dirt road, high-tech shocks smoothing the worst of the ruts and hollows.
“How do you know Jack and Nola?” said Magnus, getting down to business.
“Don’t,” admitted MacGregor, stroking his thick fingers through the dog’s dark fur. The dog looked as if it might be having a mental breakdown. “It’s Eliana I know. We used to be in business together, back in the day. That woman is the finest thief I ever employed.”
“Eliana?” said Magnus and Lu together, their surprise making MacGregor laugh again.
“Paintings mostly, exclusively high-end. Partial to Picasso, like me. Could slip in and out of a locked building like that,” he snapped his fingers, then looked at them askance. “Well. You know how. Anyway, she was always my favorite, even if the little minx did get me shot.” He reached over, wrapped his hand around the crystal glass in the cup holder in a mirrored niche in the door, raised it to his mouth, and swallowed a long, deep gulp of scotch. “Ah!” he said when he’d drained the glass. “Nothin’ like a fifty-year-old Macallan to wet the whistle!”
Lu felt like she was having of an out-of-body experience, or starring in an old western where you can’t tell who to shoot because the good guys and the bad guys are all wearing black hats. If Eliana had known this MacGregor character for years, he was undoubtedly trustworthy. And she had to admit, he had a certain rough charm. But in Lu’s opinion, he was a little too far into the fuzzy, indistinct middle ground between good guy and bad guy.
Magnus was thinking the same thing. “Tell me, Mr. MacGregor, what exactly is it you do for a living?”
“Ach!” said the big man with a grimace. “My grandfather was Mr. MacGregor. Just call me Gregor. And this is Lourdes, by the way,” he added, giving the dog a brisk shake, which made it shriek. “After my mother-in-law, not the town in France where the Virgin Mary appeared to that delusional adolescent,” he explained, seeing Magnus’s look. “And to answer your question, I’m in the procurement business. I get people what they want. Women, weapons, drugs, art,” he shrugged. “Whatever it is, I can get it. And my clients are willing to pay a premium for my services, which is what I want, so everyone’s happy.” He grinned, looking pleased with himself. “In fact, you might say I’m actually in the happiness business!”
Speaking of delusional adolescents, Lu thought. Beside her, Magnus smiled.
“Oh—before I forget.” MacGregor pulled a small box from his coat pocket, and held it out to Lu. “For you, lass. Contact lenses. These are the latest technology, too; they’ll even get past the new ocular scanners.”
She took the box, then, worried what might happen if they were stopped by the Peace Guard or Enforcement, said to Magnus, “Won’t you need some?”
“Nooo, lass,” drawled MacGregor, eyeing Magnus cagily. “He wouldn’a want to cover up those peepers. Come in bloody handy, I should think, havin’ death rays shootin’ out your skull.”
Magnus tensed. “How did you—”
“I make it my business to know, lad,” MacGregor said softly. He glanced at Lu with sharp interest, his gaze roving over her in a familiar, baldly calculating way. “Tisn’t anything I don’t know about either of you, in fact.”
“Watch yourself!” Magnus hissed, going from tense to furious at whip-crack speed. He lurched forward with his hands clenched, veins standing out in his neck, lips peeled back over his teeth like an animal’s, and Lu thought for one horrified moment he might kill the man right where he sat.
MacGregor had the good sense to look stunned. A flicker of fear crossed his face. Then he laughed, a hearty, booming noise that had Lourdes dissolving into an apoplectic yapping fit.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” he gasped, wiping his eyes. “You nearly had me shittin’ myself like the dog! I haven’t had a scare like that in years! Bloody fantastic!”
Lu gently curled her fingers around Magnus’s arm, drawing him back against the seat. He relented, but kept MacGregor the focus of his unblinking, ferocious stare, until MacGregor apologized profusely for giving offense, and sounded as if he really meant it.
“You’ll have to forgive my manners, son. It’s been a long, long time since I met a man gettin’ his feathers ruffled over the honor of a lady. Usually he’s only gettin’ his feathers ruffled over the price!�
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“Ew,” said Lu, distinctly loud. “And totally not what I want to hear. Can we please talk about how we’re going to get into the city without getting stopped?”
MacGregor looked at her. “Darlin’ . . . what makes you think we’re not gettin’ stopped?”
The car slowed to a crawl. Lu looked out the tinted windows, and, with dawning horror, realized what MacGregor meant.
Just ahead loomed the main gate of New Vienna, lit harshly with floodlights, flanked with a double row of armed Peace Guards. One of them stood in front of the gate with his hand held out, watching the car as it slowed to a stop. Then, with rifle at the ready, he walked slowly around to the driver’s side door, examining the vehicle with suspicious, alert eyes.
“Oh shit,” breathed Lu, going white. “They’re going to search the car!”
Across from her, Gregor MacGregor merely smiled.
THIRTY
Magnus pinned MacGregor with a murderous stare. “You fucking turncoat! You brought us right to them!”
“Oh ye of little faith,” said MacGregor with a disappointed little tsk. “Hold your water, lad, and let MacGregor work his magic!”
Lu was breathless watching this interaction, trying desperately to check the sudden throb of heat in the palms of her hands.
The soldier tapped on the window. A threat in the form of a nasty growl rumbled through Magnus’s chest, but MacGregor lifted a finger to his lips, shaking his head. He pushed a button on the door, and the window slid down several inches. The soldier and he eyed one another wordlessly as Lourdes shivered and whined in MacGregor’s lap, then MacGregor fished into his shirt pocket and withdrew a small metal card, engraved with numbers.
He held it out. The soldier took it. Nods were exchanged. The soldier stepped back, without ever once glancing deeper into the shadowed car interior. The window slid up.
The soldier waved the car forward, and they were off.
“There,” said MacGregor with obvious satisfaction that no one had been killed, or any other havoc had been wrought. “Dinna tell you? Magic!”
“Oh Jesus,” said Lu on a shaky exhalation.
“Well, me dear departed mother thought so, but I think it’s a little too formal among friends. You can jes’ keep right on callin’ me MacGregor,” he quipped, seemingly pleased with the drama of the situation. His accent was getting murkier, sliding in and out of Scottish, veering toward Irish, and Lu wondered how much of it was for show. Like the rest of him.
“You bribed him with water credits.” She’d recognized the metal card.
MacGregor nodded. “He’s got a dishy new girlfriend and they like to take long, hot showers.” He grinned, winking at Magnus. “Can’t say I blame him; you should see the chebs on her, lad.”
Throughout all of this, Magnus hadn’t uncoiled from his aggressive posture, nor had his look of murderous intent left his face. “No more surprises,” he said, his voice low in his throat. “Are we understood?”
MacGregor tensed, wincing. Knowing what was happening, Lu rested her hand on Magnus’s arm. Softly, she said his name, and Magnus released him. MacGregor’s face cleared. He drew in a breath, blinking, and raised a shaking hand to his head.
Magnus sat back against the leather seat, nostrils flared. He glanced over at her, intense and glowering. I want to kill him for scaring you.
And I want to kiss you for being so overprotective. Now stop it.
His lips twitched. I’m not going to stop it if it makes you want to kiss me.
She pressed the smile from her mouth, reached for his hand, and twisted her fingers through his. I always want to kiss you.
Magnus’s eyes heated, sparking a little burst of fireworks in her belly. His fingers curved tighter over hers. He thought a single word, but it was enough to ignite another round of fireworks.
Later.
She nodded, thrilled by his bare look of desire and the promise that had just been made. Their look held, deepened, the air between them crackled. Her heartbeat skittered and a flush crept across her cheeks.
Gregor MacGregor cleared his throat. Loudly. Lu and Magnus looked at him.
“If you’ll be pardonin’ me for interruptin’, lovebirds,” he drawled, “but we’re not out of the woods just yet.”
“What do you mean?” said Magnus, stiffening.
“I mean,” MacGregor answered, tilting his head to gaze out the window, and up, “that there’s more than three bears on the lookout for our Goldilocks in this city.”
Lu and Magnus followed his gaze. There in the distance atop St. Stephen’s Cathedral, slowly rotating in brilliant yellow neon that illuminated the soaring Romanesque towers and mosaic roof, was the megascreen. Lu’s picture was still plastered on it for all to see.
ABERRANT ALERT, it screamed. Wanted for murder. Armed and Extremely Dangerous.
“So keep frosty,” Lu sighed, watching herself turn.
“Exactly,” said MacGregor.
“Got it.” Lu chewed her lip a moment, debating. Then she asked, “Gregor . . . I want to show you something, to see if you recognize it. Something we’re looking for, that we need to find quickly. And you seem like a man who might know how to find . . . hidden things.”
MacGregor lifted one ginger brow. “That I am, that I am. You have a picture of this thing?”
“Um, yes. Sort of.”
His other brow climbed.
“Okay.” Lu sat forward on the seat. “Here’s the thing: The picture is in my head. I can send it to you, but I just want to make sure you’re ready. You know,” she glanced at Magnus, “since we’ve agreed on no more surprises.”
MacGregor made a sound of interest. On his lap, Lourdes had begun to writhe in terror in response to Lu’s movement. She scowled at the dog, and its beady black eyes went wide.
“All right. Here goes.”
She reached out with her mind, feeling carefully, trying not to do anything too abrupt. She came up against a solid resistance, but pushed past it easily, like a knife cutting through butter.
MacGregor gasped, rearing back. “Holy mother of God,” he breathed, his eyes as wide as the dog’s.
Lu cringed. “Sorry. Is it too much?”
“No, lass, just let me,” he cleared his throat. “Just give me a moment. It’s . . . a little . . .”
“Intimate,” said Magnus aridly, shooting her a disgruntled look.
“I’m not looking around or anything,” she assured Gregor softly, holding his apprehensive gaze, “I’m just there. Okay?”
After a moment, he nodded, adjusting to the sensation of having his mind invaded. “Bugger me, that’s strange,” he muttered.
Into his mind she said, All right, so, here it is. Let me know if you recognize it.
Lu formed a mental picture of the bunker, in as much detail as she could remember from the helicopter pilot’s purloined memories, focusing on the shape and size, turning it so he could see it from all sides.
“Holding cells,” he said aloud. He was silent a moment, then, “Administration in the bigger areas on the top three floors, security, command center, computers. Smaller blocks from level four down are the assets. The base floor is open . . . no compartments . . . might be storage.” He frowned. “It’s highly secured, though. Those look like airlocks at one side. Triples.” He closed his eyes, continuing on, his frown deepening as he concentrated. “And why would there be so many cameras?”
“Cameras?” said Lu, tensing.
“Those dots that look like rivets? There’s a single one in each of the other cells on the other floors, all in the same position on the ceiling. But the bottom floor has cameras all over the place. Floor, ceiling, walls . . . if this space is used for storage, they’re keeping a close eye on whatever’s in there. Prisons don’t invest that kind of mint to make sure the guards don’t walk off with extra toilet paper. It
’s more likely that’s where they’re keepin’ their main asset.”
Magnus said, “How do you know this is a prison?”
MacGregor opened his eyes. “Been inside as many different kinds of jails as man has built,” he answered quietly, looking at Magnus directly. “You get a feel for ’em. But you know exactly what I mean, don’t you, lad?”
Lu was intrigued, especially by the tone of knowing in which he delivered the last part. She resolved to ask Magnus about it later. Right now she had bigger fish to fry. “We have to find this structure, Gregor. I know it’s in New Vienna, underground, but I just don’t know where. Do you?”
He turned his attention her way. “I surely don’t,” he said with real regret, and Lu’s heart sank. It lifted again when he amended, “But I know someone who might.”
“Can you take us to him?”
“I can,” he said, nodding, “but not now.”
“Why not?” said Lu and Magnus in unison.
“Curfew starts in fifteen minutes, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, consulting his gigantic gold watch. “Which leaves us just enough time to make it back to my place before the Peace Guard starts sweepin’ the streets. Your meetin’ will have to wait.”
Lu blew out a hard breath, and Magnus reached over and took her hand, knowing what she was thinking without her even having to form the thought in her mind.
Time wasn’t on their side. Waiting was the last thing they should be doing, but the sun would rise, and the clock would tick, and all they could do in the meantime was count the minutes until darkness.
Gregor’s “place” turned out to be a palace. Or at least a replica of one, constructed right in the heart of New Vienna, atop the ruins of a former church.
Built in the Romanesque revival style, it sported slim towers, ornamental turrets, gables, balconies, pinnacles, and copious sculptures of angels and saints, which Gregor explained with no hint of irony were his favorite parts of the property. The entire place was ridiculously ornate, and Lu told him so.
Into Darkness (A Night Prowler Novel) Page 29