Canon in Crimson (Symphony in Red Book 1)

by Rachel Kastin

  “That may well be,” he said, pulling my hand up to kiss my palm, “but I was actually referring to the fact that someone has to make sure you don’t ruffle any more merchants’ feathers, my dear.”

  “That jerk had it coming,” I grumbled, making a face.

  Alger laughed.

  “Well, just retribution notwithstanding, you’re coming with me tomorrow night. In fact, I believe you ought to simply accompany me for the entire day. Will that be a problem?”

  “Never,” I said cheerfully.

  “Excellent,” he said, standing up. “Now, given your adventures today, I expect you’ve developed quite an appetite.” He took my hands and drew me fluidly to my feet. “What would you say to dinner?”

  Come to think of it, nothing could have sounded better. So I agreed and started getting ready to go. But just as I was pulling on my shoes, I remembered one more thing.

  “Hey, Alger,” I said, standing up again while I watched him finish re-buttoning his jacket.

  “Yes?”

  “Did you know they’ve been betting on us all this time?”

  He smirked and took my arm.

  “Of course,” he said, kissing me on the cheek.

  §

  The next evening, when sunset bled scarlet over the desert, it was time for us to head to Alger’s meeting. Alger, Shifty and I split off from the others when we got there, and the twins made no effort to hide their relief. I guess that might’ve bothered me if there hadn’t been so much to distract me in the night market.

  The place had transformed, like a child’s toy distorted into a monster by the shadows of nightfall. The bustling, boisterous crowd had become a throng of hushed whisperers; circles of people washed in pale yellow by lamplight gathered around dark and entrancing spectacles. A man in colorful robes spun wild stories to an enthralled crowd, underscoring dramatic moments with showers of sparks and smoke. Further along, a woman playing sweet tones on a flute mesmerized a cobra, rising slowly and sinuously from a basket. Men swallowed swords and torches and walked across burning coals. Belly dancers and acrobats scattered shadows against the flame, and strong traces of opium lined the air.

  As hypnotized as the cobra, I stared at the collection of wonders, and Alger’s firm grip on my hand reminded me to keep moving more than once as we made our way through the crowd to our rendezvous point: a little shop belonging to a street magician who’d taken to selling objects rather than shows. Inside the shop, the shelves displayed a spread of knickknacks that I eyed skeptically as we headed over to a man in the corner wearing a dark hooded robe.

  “That’s him?” I whispered, eyeing the man with curiosity.

  Alger nodded.

  “I’ll speak to him,” he told Shifty and me. “You two keep an eye out.”

  We both glanced at the door and back in unison as Alger approached the man in the corner. He turned to us, smiling a little too eagerly.

  “Welcome to my humble shop,” he said in Spanish tinted with an Italian accent, reaching out to shake our hands warmly. “I am Francisco.”

  He gave a sweeping, ridiculous bow, and I swallowed a giggle. Alger, of course, played right along.

  “Francisco the Fantastic, isn’t it?” he asked, sounding much more interested than he could possibly be.

  Francisco beamed.

  “I see you’re an admirer, then.”

  “Absolutely,” Alger lied enthusiastically. “Your Athens show with the multiple levitation trick is legendary.”

  How did he know all this stuff? I wondered. He’d first heard of this fella, what—yesterday? I took another quick look through the doorway at a passing caravan and caught Shifty rolling his eyes. I had to agree. When did we get to the point?

  Meanwhile, Francisco grinned, clasping his hands in delight.

  “Well!” he exclaimed. “It’s a pleasure to meet a fan, señor.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Alger answered generously. “I must say, I’ve also heard you have quite an extraordinary collection here.”

  That was the hook.

  “Ah, yes!” said the charlatan, spreading his hands to gesture grandly at the shop’s meager merchandise. “Please feel free to take a look.”

  “Well, actually,” Alger confided in his new friend, “I’m interested in a specific item I’d heard you have.”

  Clearly intrigued, Francisco clasped his hands together and took a step closer to Alger.

  “Yes?”

  Alger gave him the description I’d heard over and over by then: a complicated puzzle box, missing a key, no one can open it, and so on and so forth. Trained by now to watch for unusual reactions to that, I looked closely, but Francisco’s response was open: regretful, but clearly not alarmed, he nodded.

  “I know this item, señor, but I am afraid I sold it yesterday.”

  I saw Alger’s fingers twitch just slightly, the only sign of the aggravation I knew he must be feeling.

  “That’s a pity,” he responded casually. “Any chance you remember the buyer?”

  Again Francisco nodded.

  “It was another magician who said that he was buying it for his wife. He was a handsome gentleman, like yourself, but with darker hair, and—ah, pardon me, señor, but he was much…taller.”

  “And he didn’t give his name?”

  “I’m sorry, señor, no. But I do seem to recall that he was from Philadelphia.”

  Alger grasped at the thread of information.

  “Philadelphia?”

  “Yes, I think so,” Francisco answered. And then he sighed. “To tell you the truth, I would never have let it go for so little if I knew it was important to so many people.”

  All three of us reacted, snapping to attention.

  “So many people?” Alger echoed carefully. “Then, someone’s asked about this already today?”

  “Yes, some men came by just an hour or so ago,” Francisco answered, suddenly concerned. “Why? Is something wrong?”

  And that’s when I discovered that something definitely was. Abruptly on my guard, I glanced out the doorway—and caught a glimpse of something that made my blood freeze. Walking down the alley, his stride determined, his face dour as it was memorable, was the giant brute we’d met at Kingston’s flat in Vienna. And behind him was a cadre of men, all in tailored suits, following along almost in step…like an army.

  I stepped forward to grab Alger’s arm, and he turned to me, annoyance now visible on his face. I shook my head slightly, flicking my eyes towards the door and back. Come on! Let’s go! Silently, I willed him to take my warning. He thought about it for a long instant, and then he nodded, turning back to Francisco.

  “Thank you for your time, my friend,” he said graciously, “but we should really be going. Best of luck to you.”

  Francisco was obviously confused, but he didn’t press the issue.

  “Gracias, señor,” he replied with a shrug. And then we made for the door.

  By the time we’d gotten outside, the army had blended into the seething mass of people, and I dragged Alger and Shifty in the opposite direction, telling them what I’d seen. Shifty looked a shade or two paler, but oddly, Alger showed no sign of surprise. At first, he was silent, and I watched the wheels turn in his head as we made our way down the crowded road. He closed his eyes for a moment, his features set harshly in the flickering glow of lamplight, and then he turned to me and Shifty.

  “Both of you. Find the boys, and go back to the hotel,” he said quietly, his voice braced with steel that would suffer no opposition. “Don’t stop or speak to anyone. Go quickly. I’ll meet you there.”

  And before I could say a word, he rounded the corner and vanished.

  Late in the night, I was wide awake, sitting on the floor and hugging my knees, staring intently at the door. Open! I kept ordering it, waiting for the handle to turn. My stomach clawed at itself, empty and angry. I bit my lip until it bled and tried futilely to keep all the what-ifs from infiltrating my mind. I didn’t know what Alger
was doing, but if he’d sent me away, it was sure to be dangerous, and he’d been missing for hours. Big Six got shot the last time we ran into the army, and he and Alger only had to deal with half of them. Now he was all alone. What if they’d—

  But just then, the door finally complied with my demands, swinging open and revealing a slightly disheveled but basically unharmed Alger. Swept up in a tide of relief, I sprang off the floor and into his arms.

  “Are you okay? Where did you go? Why did you—”

  “Shh, it’s alright,” he murmured, holding me close and stroking my hair. “I’m fine.”

  At length, when I’d reassured myself that he was telling me the truth, I examined his condition, gingerly touching the shallow gash above his temple and kissing his split knuckles. And then I noticed something that worried me more than the bumps and scratches: the look on his face. On the surface, he was smiling at me just a little, tender in his amusement over my concern. But, just beneath that, something lurked in his eyes—something ruthless and grim.

  “Hey,” I said, pulling back a little, “what’s wrong?”

  He looked at me for a second, the traces of laughter leaving his face, and then he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. I sat down next to him and waited.

  “We’ll need to use a method to find the box that I’d hoped to avoid,” he told me eventually.

  “You don’t want to go to Philadelphia?” I asked, puzzled.

  He smiled mirthlessly, taking my hand and shaking his head.

  “No. We won’t be wasting any more time chasing breadcrumbs. Especially not when it’s clear there’s someone who always finds them first.”

  “Then what…?”

  “I’ve just had a…discussion, if you will, with the large fellow you spotted,” he explained, flexing his abraded fingers. “And I’ve come to something of an agreement with his employer. Instead of arriving at the same places and attempting to kill one another other, we’ll be working together.”

  “But…isn’t that good?” I asked.

  “In a way,” he answered. “But his employer isn’t exactly the most welcome ally.”

  “How’s that?” I asked, still not sure what the problem was.

  “You’ll remember, a while ago, discussing a certain Third Party who has a rather keen interest in the box?” Alger asked me.

  I nodded, starting to understand. This must be the Third Party who’d tried to murder Kingston but had poisoned me instead. So they’d been on the same trail as us after that—first finding Kingston in Vienna, then Vidrai, and now Francisco. No wonder Alger didn’t look happy.

  “So,” I said, “we’re working with the people who nearly got me killed. Twice.”

  “Indeed,” said Alger. “As I said, I’d hoped to avoid this.”

  I turned to face him and squeezed his hands, running my thumbs over his abraded knuckles again.

  “We still can, you know,” I said quietly. “We could go back to doing regular jobs. Let everyone else fight it out over the box.” Live happily ever after.

  The lurking darkness in his eyes stirred and settled, and he shook his head again.

  “I’m afraid it isn’t that simple, my dear,” he said.

  “But why not?” I pressed earnestly, my grip tightening on his hands. “I know how important the box is to you, but—”

  “No,” Alger said, “you don’t.”

  “Then tell me!” I burst.

  Alger opened his mouth, and for a split second, I was sure he was about to let something unplanned slip out. But he caught whatever it was and kept it from escaping, regaining control at the last instant. He paused, giving me one of his piercing looks, and then he let go of my hands and shifted positions, turning on the bed to lean against the headboard and face me directly.

  “I told you when we first met that I haven’t always been a thief,” he began. “You’re aware, I believe, that I once worked for the British Secret Intelligence Service, and that I parted ways with them under less than amicable terms?” My eyes widened, and I nodded. “Well,” he said, his voice weary, “the box was what motivated my departure. I gave up everything to ensure that it didn’t fall into the wrong hands. Everything I’ve done since then was in pursuit of that goal. If I turn away from it now, all of it will have been for nothing—all that I’ve gained, and all that I’ve lost—and, precisely what I set out to prevent will come to pass. I don’t have a choice, Victoria. I have to see this through.”

  About a thousand questions stormed through my mind, and it was all I could do to keep them from flooding out. He’d told me more in the last few seconds than in the last two years put together, and all I wanted was to keep him talking. But somehow, knowing how hard it had been for him to tell me the truth, seeing behind that ever-present mask to find his exhaustion and desperation, I decided that for now, he’d told me enough. He was never going to give up looking for the box, no matter what, and that was all I really needed to know until after we found it. So I nodded and slid across the bedspread to curl up against him, and his arms came around me, holding me close.

  “Okay,” I said into his shoulder. “So who is it we’re working with now?”

  Alger sighed.

  “They’re a rather complex organization, as I understand it,” he said, “but the one we’ll be dealing with is a man named Draegan Levak.”

  Chapter 31—Those Evil Natured Robots

  “So now what?” R7 asked the professor, who continued to speed down Forty-Sixth as the tracer screeched. “How do we find Von Krauss?”

  “The feedback will increase as we approach the third antenna,” Professor Gregory shouted over the noise.

  “Peachy,” R7 muttered, already feeling like the sound was trying to tear her eardrums open.

  “Why?” the professor asked, turning away from the road for a perilous moment to look at her curiously. “Are your senses especially sensitive? That would suggest—”

  “Later, Percival!”

  “Right, right.”

  As they raced past Broadway, the sound eased to a more bearable level, and after a brief moment of relief, R7 realized what that meant.

  “We passed him! Go back!”

  “My pleasure,” said Percival.

  He jerked the wheel and spun the car around in a nauseating bootleg turn that sent them fishtailing back the way they’d come, nearly hitting oncoming traffic. R7 swore but didn’t waste time complaining. The tracer’s screaming escalated again, and she couldn’t believe that seemed like a good thing. She didn’t have to tell Percival to turn onto Broadway this time, and as they barreled on, the feedback rose to a nearly unbearable level. She braced the device between her knees and stuck her fingers in her ears, and she didn’t quite realize that she’d squeezed her eyes shut too until Percival reached over to shake her.

  “There!” he shouted, gesticulating wildly ahead of them. “There! It’s Ludwig!”

  R7 saw him immediately: a short, unassuming, older man with round glasses and a bushy moustache who was loading armful of metal pieces into the back of a grocery truck pulled over to the sidewalk. When he saw the silver car bearing down on him, with the professor pointing excitedly at him, he tugged on the sleeve of a younger man next to him and pointed back at them. Even R7 couldn’t hear them over the tracer’s screeching, but after a second it became clear what they were saying when they both pulled out metal and wire devices of their own.

  “Damnit!” shouted R7, putting the deafening device down at her feet with the antennae and climbing up onto the seat in a crouch.

  “What—” Percival began, but R7 cut him off.

  “Drive past them,” she said, “and don’t stop, no matter what happens!”

  He didn’t have time to object—they were closing in on Von Krauss and the man R7 suspected was the other operator. And as the two men backed away, a huge metal hand was punching through the side of the truck and ripping its way out. So as Percival sped right up to them, she braced and leapt out of the car.


  The Silver Ghost’s borrowed speed and the unnatural strength in R7’s legs propelled her like a mortar shell, and she landed on one of the robots’ shoulders as the car roared past, taking its screeching device with it. Just as before, people in the street started to scream and scatter, and the robot reached up to squeeze R7 in its hands.

  “Okay, y-you metal m-monster,” she growled as it started to shake her, “wh-what makes you th-think you’ll d-do better than the l-last fella?”

  And she grabbed its antenna.

  A bright spasm of agony flashed into R7’s fingers, then sparkled up her arms and over her entire body in an instant. She couldn’t even scream as her muscles convulsed, and then her vision swam into black.

  She came to staring up at a panorama of neon, smelling a vaguely burned scent in the air and trying to piece together what had just happened. Disoriented and aching, she sat up to find that not much time had passed: the robot she’d tried to fight was still turning away from her, and a second one had emerged from the truck to scoop up Von Krauss, who was working frantically at his controller device. And the Silver Ghost was speeding back towards all of them.

  “Damnit, Percival,” she muttered as the professor’s car swung and squealed to a stop, and the professor hopped out to hobble toward mortal danger. If she’d gotten him hurt...

  “You were electrocuted!” Percival shouted down at her as Von Krauss’ robot continued to plod away, and the other one turned back in their direction. “But you’re perfectly well! Incredible!”

  “I told you to keep driving,” she snapped, pushing herself to her feet.

  “Yes, but you’re clearly incapable of disabling the robots with the method you’ve previously used,” he said. “You need my help.”

  “What help?” she demanded. The first robot was only seconds away now, but Percival didn’t seem to notice. “My partner nearly got killed by one of these things, and he’s practically a soldier! You can’t—”

  “You don’t need a soldier, you need a scientist!” Percival replied, waving his cane at her. “Or rather, I suppose you need both—look out!”