“I’m fine, but I’m ready to go. When can we leave?”
Mai shook her head. She sat down on the armchair and shrugged her slim shoulders.
“I’ve been working hard on it, Val, but I’m not sure how I can get you out of here. I could enlist my family, but that would cause an open war between Melinda’s clan and the Eastern dragons. I can’t afford to start that. We need help.”
Val beamed. “We have help. I met the private detective. He’s the one who left me the note. Just as you thought, Griffen sent him. He’ll help us.”
“Wonderful,” Mai said. “He can slip in and out of here?”
Val nodded, glad to have some good news for her friend.
“George has done it twice already.”
Mai’s pencil-thin brows soared toward her hairline.
“George? He said his name is George? What does he look like? Never mind! It doesn’t make any difference! You can’t go anywhere with him!”
Val gawked at her. What upset her friend so much?
“Mai, he’s just a private detective. Why does he scare you?”
“He’s not a detective, he’s a dragon hunter! St. George—he’s one of them!”
Val couldn’t believe it. That nice man?
“Oh, come on, St. George lived a thousand years ago!”
“They’re not human,” Mai said, her eyes wide with fear. “They can live hundreds of years, maybe thousands. They’re enemies of all dragonkind. He just told you Griffen sent him so you’d let down your guard!”
Val was terrified but practical. George had not seemed to want to hurt her. He was avuncular, kind, patient, and practical. He even had a sense of humor. Val felt certain he was telling the truth about coming from Griffen. Why would he lie?
“Are you sure it’s the same guy? A lot of people are named George.”
“Maybe it’s not.” Mai drummed her fingertips on the table. “All right, I’ll check it out. If he’s legitimate, I hope he can do what he says he will.”
• • •
Thankfully, not all of Melinda’s servants lived on the grounds. Mai hovered in the overgrown garden near twilight until she saw a tall, dark-skinned man leave the rear exit of the mansion and get into a green Dodge Rambler. She hoped that the dogs were not out yet. She didn’t want to kill innocent hounds just because their mistress was a homicidal maniac.
The Rambler bumped over the rear drive toward the back gate. It operated on the inside by the use of a card-swipe reader. Mai allowed herself to assume her dragon form. As soon as the car was within thirty feet of the exit, she took wing. The driver rolled down his window to swipe his identification card. Mai edged into his blind spot and trotted out beside him to the rear access road. The Rambler turned left. Mai angled right.
As soon as she was certain she was out of range of any of Melinda’s cameras, she flew straight up. Cell-phone coverage in this backwater was absolutely horrible amid the thick forests. Once she spotted a tower, she hooked her cell phone out of her purse. She could have transformed it along with her clothes, but it was her favorite designer handbag. With delicate claws, she touched a series of numbers. The phone rang twice.”
“May I help you?” a woman’s voice answered.
“Is this Debbie?”
“Yes, it is. May I ask who’s calling?”
“It’s Mai.”
“How are you?” the voice asked, adding forced cheerfulness to its tone.
“No pleasantries, if you don’t mind. Where is George?”
“I’m sorry, but he’s not in the office right now. May I take a message?”
“No. I am in North Carolina. I know he is close by. I need to speak to him.”
“That isn’t possible.”
“Debbie, I am an old customer. Your office has done research for me in the past. I am trying to figure out if a dear friend of mine is in danger.”
“A friend?” The voice sounded incredulous. Mai was getting tired of that reaction from people. Was it so rare a thing as to invite astonishment? “Who?”
“Valerie McCandles,” Mai said. “I expect that anything I say to you will be kept confidential.”
“You’re not looking for revenge against George?”
“For what? He has been helpful to me now and again. I am trying to prevent a situation in which I need to seek revenge. Where is he?”
“Just a moment, please.”
Mai flew in circles, listening to instrumental versions of “The Girl From Ipanema” and “The Theme from Peter Gunn.” She gave a disgusted grunt. They had not changed their HOLD tape since the 1960s.
After a few more vintage favorites, Debbie came back on the line.
“Bisby Motel,” she said. “Do you need me to spell it?”
“No, but directions would help.”
“No problem. Are you driving?”
“Flying.”
• • •
The Bisby Motel had the sort of old-fashioned charm that would have made Mai drive all night to avoid having to stay there. A painted wooden butter churn and a three-foot crank-driven coffee grinder flanked the entrance. Tole-painted plaques covered the exterior walls, along with framed country adages and a large, peeling, gray sign that said VACANCIES.
Mai went around the corner of the building and up the concrete steps to the third floor. Debbie had said George was staying in room 318.
She stopped several doors down and listened closely. The room to her right had a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the knob. The occupant snored raucously. Mai tuned him out and fixed her keen hearing on each room in succession. A mother and small children, a peevish-sounding woman on the telephone, then three empty, including the George’s room.
She walked the rest of the way and peered in through the picture window. The sagging slats of the Venetian blinds left just enough gaps for her to see inside. A pair of twin beds flanked a battered wooden night table. Facing them was a long melamine-topped credenza with a large television perched on it. At the rear of the room, a mirror reflected her eyes back at her. She could just see a sink to the right. No lights were on, but the beds had been neatly made up. The room stood empty. He was not there.
Mai always believed in letting the fight come to her. She spotted a chambermaid pushing a cart full of towels and sheets along the walkway.
“Can you help me?” she said. She pretended to fumble in her purse, making certain to let the Hispanic woman see the roll of greenbacks in her wallet. “I think I left my key in the drawer. Could you let me in?”
“Sure, ma’am,” the maid said. She pulled a large ring of keys out along an elastic tether on her belt. Mai stood by while she unlocked the door, then slipped a ten-dollar bill into her hand.
“Thank you so much. My husband always makes fun of me for being absentminded.”
“Men are like that,” the chambermaid said. She tucked the bill away and pushed the cart toward the elevator. Mai waited until she was out of sight, then tiptoed into the George’s hotel room.
Suddenly, a noose dropped around her neck and tightened. Mai grabbed it with both hands and tried to tear it away. She gasped as she was yanked back against a hard body. Warm breath washed her cheek.
“This may not kill you, but you’ll wish it did.”
Forty-four
George held Mai tight. He knew that he was stronger than she was, but she fought dirty. So did he, for that matter, but no sense in taking chances. He fished another long, looped wire tie from his pocket and captured both hands behind her back. He ratcheted the strap out until she moaned in protest.
“I’ll take the rope off your neck if you promise nothing but words are going to come out of your mouth.”
Her hooded eyes flashed, but she nodded. George loosened the cord. It was spelled to be strong enough to strangle dragons. He hated to use it, but he always carried it. Ma
i took a deep gasp of breath.
“Ow!” Mai protested. “You didn’t have to do that!”
“When a dragon like you pays me an unexpected visit, you had better believe I take all precautions until I know where it stands.”
“Don’t call me ‘it.’ Check your messages! Debbie told me where to find you. I need to talk to you.”
“Really? About what?”
“About what you’re doing here.”
He guided her roughly to one of the beds and made her sit down on it. He crouched at a distance but kept hold of the long end of her manacle tether.
“What I am doing anywhere is never any of your business.”
Mai tossed her hair out of her face. “That is not true. I have used your services in the past. You never seem to mind taking my money for surveillance or research.”
“True. But you can’t hire me for anything at the moment. I’m on a job.”
He had never seen such raw fear in the eyes of any of the Eastern dragons.
“What job? What is it you intend to do to Valerie McCandles?”
George didn’t let his surprise show. Of course, the Eastern dragons would be interested in a pure-blooded dragon baby, not to mention a fecund and reasonably sane mature female.
He had just returned from his final surveillance of the Wurmley estate. He had planted caches of supplies and weaponry in various locations inside the fence. On his checkthrough he had seen no signs of the Gollum-demon, but he could smell it. He was surprised that the dogs didn’t go crazy at the scent of such an indiscriminate predator. Henry must have trained them not to freak out. Dammit, all he needed was one more obstacle to his goal. Interference from Mai could cause him to lose his concentration. That could prove fatal to his target.
“You know I can’t discuss open contracts with you.”
“What will it take for you to back off the McCandles girl?”
George regarded her with exasperated patience. “If I were working on a job for you, what would you think if I took a bribe from another interest? You know we don’t work that way.”
Mai stood up. George followed suit. He towered over the petite Asian female, but she was not intimidated.
“I’ll stop you,” she said. “Unless you kill me right now, I will keep you from taking her anywhere.”
“Don’t try, Mai. We don’t freelance, but I’ll protect myself.”
“Bring it, tough guy,” Mai said, holding her chin high.
George shook his head wearily. “Not now, Mai. Sometimes I like your sparring, but it’s inappropriate at the moment.”
“Really? Why? Tell me why! You have no idea what you’re walking into over there.”
“Sure I do.” George snapped the wire tie off her wrists. He went to the door and held it open. “Get lost, Mai. I’ll buy you a drink sometime once this is all over.”
She rose, looking surprised. The way she gathered herself, George sensed that she was going to spring at him. He held up a hand.
“Would you mind not trashing my room? The staff has been really nice to me. And after you gave the hotel maid ten bucks, I’d hate to have her waste her tip scrubbing blood off the walls. It won’t do any good anyhow. I might have to hurt you, and I still won’t give you any details.”
Mai halted in her tracks. Her lip curled, showing her sharp little white teeth.
“You’ll be sorry, George.”
“I’m already sorry. See you around.”
He stood silently by the open portal and waited. Mai stared at him for a long time, then stalked past him. He watched her go around the front of the building, then kept watch until he was sure she wasn’t coming back around the other side. With a sigh, he closed the door and took out his cell phone. He held it to his ear while he started loading his pockets with supplies and weapons.
“Debbie, we have a problem. I have interference. Mai is here. She just left. She wanted to know what I was doing here.”
The secretary’s voice squawked from the speaker.
“What? You haven’t broken confidentiality, have you?”
“Give me a break. She’s got a nasty sense of humor. If she knew I was saving a dragon instead of stalking one, she’d phone the news services. I can hear her laughing about it now.”
“You have to get that girl out immediately.”
“I know, I know. Putting together my kit now. I’ll call you once I’m safely on the road with her.”
• • •
Mai dashed into the trees. She held her handbag in her teeth as she ran. Transforming on the fly wasn’t as easy as it looked in the movies. Better to complete the alteration as she went. As soon as her wings were clear, she opened them and flapped hard. She cleared a picnic table, only registering too late that it was occupied. She and a couple who had decided to sneak off for an afternoon quickie both got an eyeful.
“Oh, my God!” the woman cried, pointing over her lover’s shoulder. “A demon!” The man rolled off her and gawked upward.
“Dragon, curse you,” Mai muttered to herself. “Why do they always think scaly wings mean demon?”
She had no idea when George was going to make his move. She had to hurry. Val firmly believed that George was a benevolent rescuer, not a killer. Mai had three hard tasks ahead of her: convincing Val that George was a monster; convincing Val to leave the mansion now, at all costs; and finding a way past all of Melinda’s insane security protocols.
At the mansion, she circled impatiently, staying out of range of the cameras, waiting for a vehicle to pull through either gate so she could sneak in. Twilight was coming. She didn’t have any bribes for Melinda’s herd of mutts. Damn George! He had made her forget details! Drink, hell! If she ever saw him again, she was going to tear out his guts and eat them.
At last, she felt a break in the security spell near the back. She flitted down onto the access road in time to see a car exiting: one of Melinda’s day staff going home for the night. Mai closed her wings and swooped down toward the gate.
Curse it! Before she could reach the gate, it swung down again. All the security cameras lit up. Mai swore colorfully in Cantonese, Mandarin, Thai, and several ancient dragon dialects.
The only way in was with an ID or an invitation. She had neither. But the man in the car did. She turned on a wingtip and arrowed after him.
As the brown auto stopped at a T-intersection on the overgrown lane, Mai landed on the hood. The stocky, dark-skinned man in the driver’s seat threw up his hands to shield his face. Mai reached in through the open window and grabbed him by the throat.
“You forgot something in the house,” she said, dragging him eye to eye with her. “You need to go back and get it. Right now. It’s a matter of life and death: yours.”
“Yes, sir!” the man said. His eyes were so wide that they looked as if they might pop out.
“It’s ma’am,” Mai said. She shoved him back into the front seat, and slid in the window to the rear. She kept one claw at the back of his neck. His skin twitched. “Turn this junk heap around. Move it!”
“Yes, ma’am!” Though his hands were shaking, the man threw the car into reverse, executed a Y-turn, and raced back to the house.
Once they were through the security gate, Mai hauled the driver out of the car and tied him up with his own belt and a set of jumper cables. There was just room for him in the trunk, among the usual detritus humans accumulated in storage places. She unfurled a strip of duct tape from the roll she found there, pasted it over his mouth, then slammed the trunk lid down over his frightened eyes.
No alarms or lights went off, so her presence must have gone undetected. As twilight began to fall, a few more employees emerged through the rear door, chatting to one another in loud voices. Their noise covered Mai as she slithered in past the cars parked at the rear of the house. No one paid attention to a serpent the color of the gr
avel.
Once past them, she grew legs again to race along the edge of the house toward Val’s window. Thank all the ancestors, it was open! Blessings on the Amazon’s proclivity for fresh air. She rolled in over the sill, gathering her wings in and assuming human shape again as she stood up.
“Put your things together, Val. We have to get out now!”
To her horror, Val was not alone. A slim woman with black hair jumped up from the table and backed toward the door. After crawling over the dirt to get back, Mai was in no mood to have a mere human interfere with her plans. She dashed to slam the door closed and put her back against it. The other woman dropped to a crouch. Mai was surprised. The woman didn’t look like a typical student of krav maga. Mai struck a karate stance, then relaxed.
“What am I doing?” Mai asked, appalled at herself. “I know what you just saw. Scream and I will kill you long before anyone can possibly come to your aid. Very painfully, I might add.”
By then, Val was between them, hands holding them back from one another.
“Don’t hurt her, Mai. She’s my friend! Marcella, this is Mai. I told you about her.”
Marcella stood wide-eyed, but she swiftly regained her aplomb.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said. Mai laughed.
“I should have known that anyone who worked for Melinda would be made of steel,” she said. “You are surprising for a human.”
“Thank you,” Marcella said.
“Enough pleasantries. Well, Amazon? Grab your purse! We have no time! The George is coming!”
“Who is the George?” Marcella asked.
“He’s an assassin!” Mai cried. “He is here to kill you. I do not intend to let that happen. We need to go, now. Val, you say you do not believe me, but I just saw him. He is preparing to make a strike here. We must get away from here. Now!”
Val wore confusion like an itchy sweater. “I can’t believe it; he seems so nice!”
“Forget nice,” Mai said. To her great annoyance, Val had fallen back under the house spell. “If I am wrong, you can apologize to him and to Griffen once we get you home!”
Robert Asprin's Dragons Run Page 33