“I’ll do my best. But I’ve always viewed self-sacrifice as overrated.” And with that Cross walked out of the breakfast room.
Richard studied Weber’s grim expression. “So, you found that rather disturbing too?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah.”
“I don’t want to leave Mosi alone, but for obvious reasons I can’t put her in a room with … well, you understand. You have anything that can help with that?”
“Yeah, gotta small camera that links back to a handheld monitor.”
“Are we sure that is any less creepy than having a nine-year-old girl sleeping in a room with any of us?”
“No, but what’s our alternative?”
Richard sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Okay, set it up.”
Weber’s eyes scanned the table with the scientists, pilots, one little girl, and an alien gathered around a now-empty plate. “One last thing. How are we going to feed this mob? Not sure I want to have us all troop off to dinner.”
“We’ll order takeout. Have some of the hotel staff bring it back. Eat dinner up here. Why don’t you find out if anybody has food allergies or any particular dislikes?”
“Having heard these guys talk in that meeting … that should only take an hour or two,” Weber said grumpily, but he moved off to the group.
Richard desperately wanted to slip away. To have a few minutes of privacy in his hotel room. To try and mentally prepare for what might come, and try to plan. But he couldn’t walk out on Mosi and leave her with strangers. Not that he was all that familiar to her, but she knew him better than any of the others. For one moment he wondered if some nemesis had seized the sword because there were now two paladins. If somehow the universe had a perverted sense of fair play and decided two paladins and the weapon gave an unfair advantage to Lumina. He studied Kenntnis’s dark face, the eyes alight with those whirling lights. He could imagine the man’s scornful rejoinder to such a suggestion.
Eddie sidled up to Richard. “We gotta go buy some underwear and socks at least or ain’t gonna be pretty in another day.” Eddie rolled an eye toward Trout.
Richard pressed a hand against his brow. “Yeah, okay, but make it fast. And for God’s sake stay together.” Eddie nodded and returned to the table.
The receptionist proved to be as helpful as she was beautiful. She marked on a map where there was a shopping district. It was near the famous Grand Bazaar, and Chen looked wistful as he studied the tourist map. “That would be a sight to see,” he said.
“Maybe when we’re not running for our lives,” Richard said dryly.
“Ah, I take your point.”
And indeed the scientists surprised him by returning in record time. While they were gone, Richard talked with the receptionist about dinner plans, and she recommended a restaurant that specialized in Anatolian cuisine. Even better, she ordered for them and sent one of the bellmen off to collect the food. There was an amazing lamb stew and a kind of bread that looked like a puffed-up pillow, a seafood chowder, also a selection of salads consisting of shredded tomatoes, cucumbers, and spices Richard couldn’t identify. Dessert was again a honeyed pastry. The staff had thrown open the windows in the breakfast area to catch the evening breezes. They carried the scent of the sea and the cry of gulls. While they were eating, there was a burst of static from the loudspeakers on the mosque next door, and then the muezzin’s call blasted through the room.
“Gonna be fun to try and sleep through that,” Trout grumbled.
Mosi leaned in close to Richard. “That was pretty.”
“Yes. It is.”
“What was it?”
“The Islamic call to prayer.”
The straight nose wrinkled. “Islamic, that’s like Muslim, right?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t they bad people?”
“No worse than any other people.”
“Who’s their god again?”
“Allah.”
“There are a lot of gods, aren’t there? Navajo gods and white people’s gods.” She looked over at Chen. “Are there Chinese people’s gods too?” Richard felt himself stiffening. Eventually he and the girl had to have the conversation about the true nature of so-called gods, but not when she was nine, and not when her life had been so utterly disrupted.
“Not as you would describe it,” the scientist said with a soft laugh.
She looked at Richard. “Which white god do you pray to?”
“I don’t, Mosi.”
“Pray?”
“Believe in gods.”
She surprised him by looking pleased. “Does that mean we don’t have to go to church?” The men gathered around the table chuckled, and Richard gave a shout of laughter.
“That’s exactly what it means.”
“Oh, good.”
Eddie leaned in to the little girl. “And just so you don’t think he’s weird—none of us believe in God.”
“Why not?”
Eddie opened his mouth, but Richard intervened. “Maybe this isn’t quite the time for a theological discussion.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah.”
After dinner, people began to drift off to their rooms. Mosi was yawning. Richard took her to her room.
“I’m right next door. Call me if you need me.” He waved at the small monitor. “And one of us will be watching to make sure you’re okay.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”
“Okay.”
“Sleep tight, and there’s going to be that call … song … again, only really early in the morning, okay?”
He started to leave, but Mosi grabbed his hand. “Are the monsters coming?”
Richard hesitated and decided against lying. “Not right away. Go to sleep now. And lock your door.”
* * *
Gold showed up that afternoon. Grenier had not been told, did not expect him, and he immediately saw it for what it was.
“Checking up on me already?” Grenier made no effort to hide his annoyance, and it threw the chubby lawyer off balance.
“No, no, just wanting to see how you’re settling in. Everybody treating you well?” Gold took a surreptitious glance around the office.
“Richard was too familiar with underlings. They resent the fact I’m exerting appropriate authority, but they’ll come around.” He paused, then asked, “I’m curious, did Dagmar go with Richard?”
“No, apparently he locked her up too.”
“Really? I find that strange. She’s always been very devoted and loyal to Richard,” Grenier said.
“Well, maybe she realized that he was destroying the company.”
“Perhaps, but I would strongly recommend that you keep a somewhat closer eye on her going forward.”
“Thank you for you input, but we’ve worked with Dagmar for a long time. I think we know her a little better than you.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Grenier asked.
“Please.”
Grenier keyed the intercom. “Jeannette, do come in and prepare a coffee for Mr. Gold.” The woman marched in, her lips set in a tight line. “What would you like?” Grenier asked Gold. “We’re trying to get Jeannette up to speed as a barista, though I may have to pull in one of the younger girls. Jeannette just doesn’t seem to be catching on.”
“If you’d like my resignation, Mr. Grenier…”
“No, no. I quite enjoy having you working for me.” He knew she got the barbed reply and enjoyed the hurt that flared briefly in her eyes. There had always been an undercurrent of contempt in her dealings with him. Payback was so sweet.
Gold asked for a latte with a double shot. It took longer than it should, but eventually Jeannette brought him the cup topped with frothing milk. As she handed it over, she blurted out, “Do we know anything about Mr. Oort?”
“That it’s none of your concern,” Grenier snapped.
Jeannette cast him an absolutely poisonous look and stalked out of the office.
Gold rea
cted to the look. “Maybe you ought to fire her.”
“No, the younger employees look to Jeannette and Joseph for guidance. Once I bring those two to heel, the rest will fall in line.” Grenier’s prosthetic hand clenched.
“I wonder why she isn’t quitting,” Gold mused.
Grenier decided Gold really had little understanding of human nature. “She thinks she can spy on me and limit my influence. It makes her feel important to defend the office until Richard’s return. Eventually she’ll realize he’s gone for good, despair will set in, and then I’ll have her.”
“Damn, you sound like a shrink.”
“There’s not a lot of difference between a therapist and a minister,” Grenier replied. He paused, then added, “Kenzo didn’t give me much detail about what happened in Rochester. You do have the little girl, right?”
“No, Richard took her,” Gold replied. He blew noisily across the top of his coffee and took a sip. “Mmm, that’s good.”
“We’ve lost control of both paladins?”
The lawyer shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter since the sword is gone.”
“You mean Richard took it.”
“No, I mean it’s gone. As in poof, vanished.”
The lawyer’s tone was matter-of-fact, almost blasé. Grenier jerked upright, his breath going short, rage at the man’s denseness settling like a choking weight in his chest. But more than rage was the bone-numbing fear that gripped him. “Gone? Do you have any idea … This is a disaster.”
Two years ago, he had promised to deliver the sword to his masters. He had failed, and rather than face the judgment of the Old Ones, Grenier had fled to Richard for protection. Protection afforded by the sword, the only weapon that could kill an Old One. And now it was gone. Grenier felt the cold chill of vulnerability. Agitation pulled him to his feet, and he came around from behind the desk to loom over the other man.
“We have no weapon! No paladin to wield the weapon! No defense!” His voice rose with each word.
“Against what? The gate you opened is closed—”
“And many, many things came through. Many are still here. Richard didn’t kill them all. Tears are still opening. We need the sword and a paladin.”
“Well, we don’t have either.” Gold’s tone was testy.
“We’ve got to make another weapon. Weren’t people working on that?”
“Yes, and Richard took them too.”
“Then we need to locate Richard! Now!”
“We’re working on it, but the Turkish authorities are proving to be … elusive.”
“Why?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“Do we know why he went to Turkey?” Grenier asked.
“Not a clue.” Gold finished his coffee. “Look, I just came to check on you. See if you needed anything—”
“I need the sword and that child!”
“This is getting really tiresome. What part of we don’t have them aren’t you getting? Your job is to help us put this company back on its feet financially. That’s it. That’s all.”
Grenier paced. His gut hurt and he realized it was terror, bowel-loosening terror. “We need a way to compel Richard to return. Get those scientists working again. Is Pamela with him?”
“No, not according to flight records.”
“We need to seize his family. And Weber too—”
Gold was on his feet, blocking Grenier’s perambulations. “Now just a minute. Do you know how crazy you’re sounding right now? We’re not thugs or criminals. Richard is filling that role quite nicely. Imprisoning us, stealing the plane, transferring companies in secret. We’re requesting he be extradited. It will take a while—”
“We don’t have a while.”
Gold stepped back, glared at Grenier. “You can be replaced just as quickly as we put you in place.”
Grenier forced himself to breathe. He closed his eyes, plans churning through his mind. It would almost choke him to do it, but he needed to mollify the other man. Play the supplicant. “Yes, yes, you’re right. Sorry. I’ve allowed my own fears to take control. Please, forgive me.”
“Sure. Okay.” Gold headed for the office door. “Well, glad we had a chance to talk. We’ll be in touch. Let us know if you need anything.”
The heavy wood-and-glass door whispered closed behind him. Grenier sat down on the padded piano bench. It was clear that the Lumina lawyer was going to immediately report to Kenzo that Grenier was unstable and needed to be replaced. Grenier had to move against them before that happened, and he had only one play left—throw himself on the mercy of his former masters and their acolytes. Mercy wasn’t their long suit, but he had something to trade. The knowledge that the paladin had been disarmed.
Heaving himself to his feet, he waddled quickly to the desk, grabbed up the phone, and started to dial. He then looked at the door. Pictured Jeannette spying, reporting back to Richard. He hung up the phone and left the office. He would call Alexander Titchen, but from the safety of a pay phone.
Chapter
SIXTEEN
RICHARD handed off Mosi’s monitor to Jerry, who was on first watch, then went to his room, but he was unable to settle. Finally he changed out of his suit and into jeans with a leather jacket over his button-down shirt to hide the pistol. He then slipped out the door. Jerry was just making a sweep down the hall. Richard pressed himself against a wall until the pilot had moved on. He then hurried down the stairs to the lobby. A shadowy figure rose out of an armchair near the elaborately tiled fireplace. Reflexively Richard reached for his gun, then relaxed when he recognized the big form.
“Thought you might be restless,” Weber said.
“You know me too well.”
“You’re not going out—”
Desperate, Richard interrupted. “I’ve got to. I feel like I can’t breathe—”
And was in turn interrupted when Weber held up a restraining hand and said, “Not alone. Come on. I’ll go with you. Wouldn’t mind a look at this city, however briefly.”
They stepped through the front door and tensed when a figure moved out of the shadows. It was a young man in the green uniform of the Turkish army and carrying a machine gun. He smiled and nodded. Richard glanced around and realized there were more soldiers lurking at points all around the hotel and even several on the roof.
The young man saluted. “Lieutenant Kartal. General Marangoz had the hotel cleared of all guests save your party and thought it best to provide security.”
Weber and Richard exchanged glances. “I’ll go tell Jerry we’ve got security outside so nobody panics and shoots somebody,” Weber said, and reentered the building.
“Please thank the general and tell him how much I appreciate his actions and having you here,” Richard said.
The young man leaned in and lowered his voice. “These others,” he indicated the guards. “Just soldiers. But me … I am a member of Işık.” The pride was evident in his voice. “During the troubles two years ago, we had more than a few incursions. Djinns, nasnas, demons. We know what’s at stake. We will allow no harm to come to Kenntnis.”
Weber returned.
“You are going for a walk?” asked Kartal.
“Yes. If you think it’s safe,” Richard answered.
“Stay in the central area, and you should be fine. But you should go and look. This is a beautiful city. It’s a shame you must leave tomorrow.”
The two men walked off. The air smelled of exotic spices, jasmine, and the sea. Windows were open on this warm September night, and there was the sound of voices, televisions, and from one apartment jazzy and upbeat music with a Middle Eastern tonal structure.
They walked through an oval-shaped park and came upon an Egyptian obelisk. Richard stopped and studied the red stone with its bas-relief pedestal. There was a plaque explaining that this was the Obelisk of Theodosius and that it stood in the center of what had been the Hippodrome built by Emperor Septimius Severus. Richard slowly turned in place, trying to picture the tra
ck, the racing chariots, pounding hooves, the screaming crowds.
“Damn. Shit load of history here,” Weber said as he finished reading. “Makes you realize how young America really is.”
They walked on. Weber asked, “Are you one of those people who reads every bit of info in a museum?”
“Guilty.”
“Thought you might be.”
“Why?”
“Always thought you were too bright to be a cop.”
“I’m the dumb bunny of the family,” Richard said, trying to keep it light. He hunched a shoulder. “I loved it,” he added quietly.
“Being a cop or being a dumb bunny?” Weber teased.
Richard cast him a mock frown. “Being a cop. I wish—” He broke off. “But it does no good to repine.”
“Repine,” Weber repeated. He shot Richard a quick smile. “Yeah, real dumb.”
They had to wait to cross the street until an electric trolley had gone sparking and rattling past. At this hour of the night, car traffic was sparse. They found themselves in the gardens in front of the Blue Mosque. Behind them and across another street was Hagia Sophia. The massive dome dominated the night sky, and the four minarets that surrounded the enormous building seemed oddly out of place, built as they were out of nonmatching stone. Standing between the two monumental buildings, Richard felt even smaller than usual. Which had probably been the intent of the builders—to stress the insignificance of man.
“Is that a mosque too?” Weber asked, nodding toward the looming bulk.
“No, not anymore. It began as a church, then became a mosque when Constantinople fell to the Muslims; now it’s a museum by order of Atatürk. He didn’t want it to become a source for religious conflict.”
“Huh,” Weber grunted. “Yeah, he does sound like he was one of ours.”
“Of course, the current government is talking about turning it back into a mosque.”
“One step forward, two steps back.”
“Sometimes it feels hopeless,” Richard said with a sigh.
Weber slapped him on the back. “Come on, leave it. Drop the worry. At least for tonight.”
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