by James Moore
House of Secrets
BY JAMES A. MOORE AND KEVIN MURPHY
Wednesday, April 21, Miami — Praxis Seizure: Miami
Waking up was a slow process normally, but the sound of honking horns and the occasional shifting of his weight made it hard for Kurt Westphal to stay comfortable. Eventually he sat up and shook off the day’s draining effects. He was thirsty, but there was no crisis. “I'm awake now, Jackie.”
The traffic in Miami was hellish, but no worse than what he was used to back home in Berlin. He rolled down the window for a better view than the heavily tinted glass would permit. Outside the limousine, the night was as clear as crystal and the temperature was remarkably cool. Kurt always expected the southeastern parts of the United States to be humid and outrageously warm, but now and then he was pleasantly surprised. The weather almost made him feel like he was back home in Berlin.
“Good evening, Mr. Westphal. We’re almost there. I’ve double-checked, and the Presidential Suite will be ready for us when we arrive.” Jackie Therman’s sultry voice carried through the thick, black glass barrier that separated him from the driver’s seat.
Kurt stared at the moon outside, scanning the landscape and orienting himself. “There” was the Miami Hilton in this case. Not perfect accommodations, but the best he could manage on such short notice. “There were no problems getting me through Customs?”
“Just the usual. They wanted to check the body for contraband. I showed them my diplomatic courier card and slipped ’em a little on the side for their troubles. End of problem."
He shook himself mentally. The very idea of spending time in a coffin was repugnant, even if he did sleep through the majority of his confinement in the narrow box. Still, having diplomatic immunity made the trip far more tolerable. In human society he was a diplomatic courier. Among the Kindred’s vampiric society, he was an Archon, assistant to the Ventrue Justicar, Democritus. His power was equivalent to that of a federal marshal in the United States. People listened when he spoke up. Important people. He never needed to worry about the car being stopped and inspected while on the road, just so long as the German Embassy license plates were in plain sight. “There has got to be a better way to get around than in a casket.”
“Well, we could take the Concord, but that idea seems to bother you even more.”
“Yes. Well, at a certain height, Jackie, there is not even a prayer of cloud cover should the sun creep around the edge of the world. As you know, I have a problem with my delicate skin.”
“Delicate, my ass.” She chuckled throatily, and he was reminded how much he loved the sound of her voice. “You have skin like steel, except when a little bright light creeps past the curtains."
“You have the mouth of a street urchin.”
“I am a street urchin.” The glass barrier between them rolled down, and Jackie looked over her shoulder as the limo rolled to a stop in front of the Hilton. As always, her pleasant smile made him almost forget that she was a well-trained killer. “I'm just a street urchin who knows how to dress. We’re here, boss.”
She slipped from the driver’s seat of the massive car and stepped quickly to the side door. Seconds later, she was helping the valet with the luggage, and Kurt was standing to one side, admiring the way her body moved beneath her chauffeur’s uniform. Her voice was one hundred percent efficient professional when she spoke again. “The rooms are ready, sir. Shall I meet you there?”
“That would do well. Also, call on Mr. Winter at his home. If he’s not there, leave a message that I wish to meet with him.”
“Very good, sir." Kurt didn’t wait around as she climbed back into the monstrous vehicle and carefully maneuvered away from the main entrance of the hotel. By then he was already half the distance to the front desk and pulling his billfold from his custom-fitted Armani jacket.
Five minutes later, he was in the Presidential Suite and setting up his laptop computer. Jackie let herself in and grabbed the phone without a word being spoken. Despite their friendly banter, she never bothered him when he was at his computer unless there was an emergency. Her voice became background noise while Kurt checked his e-mail messages on four different networks to make sure there were no last minute changes in what was required. There weren’t.
“Have you contacted Winter?”
“Yes, sir. He’ll be in the hotel bar of the Marriott down the street within the hour."
“Well, then, I suppose we should be on our way." Kurt opened one of his three briefcases and pulled several bundles of hundred dollar bills from inside. He placed the rest in the safe that the Hilton provided. Winter was very efficient, but he could be persuaded to change sides in any situation if his price were not met, and exceeded. Kurt hated using Winter, but there was no real choice in the matter. There simply wasn’t enough time to use anyone else.
By the time Uriah Winter showed at the bar, Kurt had been waiting for almost two hours with Jackie. Jackie had changed into more comfortable clothes and Kurt into a less formal suit. They could have been a couple on a date, and that was exactly what Kurt wanted people to think. Winter came dressed in blue jeans and a muscle shirt with a long great coat slung over one arm. His white hair was slicked back against his skull and dragged into a tight ponytail. His perpetual sneer was firmly in place, and Kurt had no reason to believe he wasn’t carrying a weapon of some sort in the folds of his coat.
“Hello, Uriah. Why don’t you have a seat?"
“How the hell are ya, Kurt? Haven’t seen you around here in a few years.”
“Yes, well, we all have our own work to do, don’t we? Mine required that I spend most of my time away from your lovely city."
Winter lit a cigarette, patently ignoring the No Smoking sign, and slid into a chair at the table. The waitress paused a moment, looking at Winter’s cigarette and the smoke curling away from it, then took in the dangerous- looking man himself. She blinked, smiled, and asked if she couldn’t get him anything. He ordered an imported beer. The only one actually drinking was Jackie, but when Winter’s Heinekcn showed up, all three had glasses sitting in front of them. Appearances had to be maintained.
“So, what can I do for you, Kurt?” Winter’s tone made the casual question sound vaguely insulting, which, Kurt was sure, was exactly what the man intended. Winter never hesitated to make certain that everyone knew he was in control of the situation, no matter what the situation might be.
“I have a list of items and people I need acquired. I will need them all by seven p.m. tomorrow. I will need this taken care of with discretion. Do you understand me?”
“What are you trying to imply, Westphal?”
“I seem to recall that the last time I offered you a commission, there was a problem with a large automobile and several automatic weapons. You are the only person I spoke to on the matter. What do you think I’m implying?"
Winter grinned ear to car, revealing even, white teeth in a barracuda’s smile. “Caveat emptor, old buddy. Besides, there’re plenty of people gunning down Germans in this city. Don’t you read the newspapers?"
Kurt reached across the table and grasped Winter’s arm in a crushing grip. Winter stared at him levelly, but a trace of pain still showed in his expression. “I will not play this game with you again. Do you understand me? I know how you work, and I will not allow you to ruin my plans a second time.”
“You don’t want to go there, Kurt."
“You do not want to take me there, Uriah. You want to finish the task properly this time, or I will make it my personal mission in life to see you destroyed. Do I make myself clear?”
“Like glass." Kurt released his arm, taking great satisfaction in the way Winter was suddenly favoring the
limb, rolling his wrist in circles to assure himself that nothing was broken.
“Good. Now then, considering the short time you have and the large list of needs, I am perfectly willing to triple your normal fee." He could all but see the dollar signs in Winter’s eyes. “If you need more than that to successfully achieve your goals, we can discuss it later. After you have procured what I need."
“Payment up front, Kurt."
“Not a chance in Hell, Mr. Winter." Winter’s eyes flashed briefly, but he remained seated. “You will receive exactly one half of your usual fee up front. More than generous when you consider the expense of having my suit replaced after Anvil and his friends decided to pay me an unexpected visit last time, don’t you think?”
Winter flicked his cigarette across the room and grinned with obvious satisfaction as it landed in a middle-aged patron’s coffee cup. The balding man stood up, scowling and looking for the source of his unexpected additive, but calmly sat back down when Winter winked at him and blew a kiss in his direction. Kurt waited patiently as his contact lit another cigarette and kicked his worn boot-heels up on the scarred surface of the table between them. Kurt gestured with one hand to prevent Jackie from kicking the chair out from under the Caitiff. She pouted, but complied.
“Yeah, Kurt. I guess it’ll do.” Winter stood up with unsettling grace, smoke creeping from his mouth and nostrils as he did so. His voice dropped lower, growing deadly and filled with threat. “But if you ever threaten me again, you'd do well to remember that I have friends too.”
“You do not have friends, you simply have associates you have not yet betrayed for money." He nodded to Jackie, and she slipped a manila envelope from inside her jacket, letting Winter see the compact machine gun that rested against her side at the same time.
Winter took the money and smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Be good, Uriah.”
“Be careful, Kurt.”
Kurt watched as Winter walked away, pausing only to drop his second cigarette in the new cup of coffee sitting in front of the middle-aged business man and to rub the man’s bald spot like he'd rub a Buddha's stomach for good luck. The man flinched, looking directly down at the spoon he used to stir his coffee and started blushing furiously. No one laughed, except Winter.
Jackie shook her head and sighed while Kurt watched the retreating figure with amusement. “What are you smiling at? He all but threatened your life."
“Nonsense. If he’d actually wanted to hurt me, he’d have kept his mouth shut. Uriah only cares for two things — himself and money. It will take a substantial amount of the latter for him to risk the former by betraying me a second time.”
“You’re too confident for your own good.”
“Of course I am, dear. That’s why I keep you around.” She smiled at that, her blue eyes twinkling and setting off the fiery accents in her dark red hair. “That, and you are a pleasure to look at."
“Flatterer.”
“Who’s next on the list?”
“How have you been, Grendel?”
The handsome young man smiled back, apparently grateful and surprised that Kurt had offered his hand. His particular clan of vampires were not often greeted warmly. Grendel hid his true appearance behind a sheath of illusions, but Kurt knew what he truly looked like and knew also that a handshake would please the Nosferatu. They shook vigorously.
“I’m fine, Mr. Westphal. It’s good to see you again." The voice sounded rusty, like an old iron gate being forced open. Knowing Grendel’s penchant for listening and not speaking, Kurt wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been months since the vampire said more than five words.
“How can I help you today, sir?" The vampire’s voice echoed as it bounced off the sewer walls. Much as Kurt hated being in the sewers, he hated even more the idea that the Nosferatu might take any offense if forced to meet elsewhere and decided not to return the old favor he was about to ask. He straightened the tie around his neck and smiled, despite the sludge running into his shoes. Just his luck — the place they’d arranged to meet was flooded well past his ankles. As if the stink itself weren't enough.
“Well, I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything. You know that."
“I understand that Anvil and his little group of cronies are looking to seize power here in Miami. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about that."
Grendel nodded, looking around the area carefully. Finally satisfied that no one else was around, he whispered, “Tiberius heard all about it. They didn’t see him, but he was there when they discussed the situation. They think Gilbert Duane’s a little too crazy, even for a Malkavian. They’re gonna call for a Praxis seizure tomorrow night at the meeting of the primogen.”
“Hmm. Did they list any examples as to why he’s not competent?"
“You mean aside from him being a Malkavian?" Grendel flashed a nervous grin, apologizing even as he made the joke.
“Now, Grendel, we both know Gilbert’s competent. If he wasn’t, he would not still be the prince of Miami after forty years." Kurt shrugged. “A good point, nonetheless. But was there anything else solid?"
“Well, they were saying that Natasha Volfchek has him wrapped around her finger and that she’s the one really running the town.” Grendel looked ready to back-pedal and run. Kurt smiled reassuringly. Volfchek was Ventrue, just as Kurt was. The implication was that the Ventrue led the city and used Duane as their pawn.
“What utter nonsense. I spoke with Natasha only last week, and she assured me that there was no such situation."
“Well, she does hold a lot of clout with him. That’s a given.” There he went again, stepping back, as if to make certain he had running room. After years of dealing with each other, Grendel apparently still had trouble believing that Kurt meant him no harm. Kurt suspected Grendel had spent most of his life before the Embrace running from one threat or another.
“True, but clout is something that all of the primogen have, not just Natasha. No, I suspect that Anvil is probably interested in more power than he has and, like as not, a bigger share of the drug moneys here in town.”
“Well..."
“Really, Grendel, who has the most to lose if Anvil and his group of bully-boys take over? Gilbert has made it very clear that he likes the Nosferatu and considers them allies. Have you ever heard similar remarks from Anvil or from any of the merry little group he runs with? Or have you heard the same old comments about Sewer Rats and the same old threats of mouse traps and poisoned bait?"
Grendel stared at the ground at his feet, his jaw muscles working and his eyebrows knitted close together over the bridge of his nose. “Well...”
“I want you to do me a very big favor, Grendel. For the sake of both our clans. For the sake of everyone in Miami, really.” He placed his hand on the man's shoulder, and Grendel glanced up, pleased by the contact. “I want you to talk with Chester DuBois for me, and I want you to arrange a meeting.”
“Oh, I think I can do that, Mr. Westphal.”
“Thank you, Grendel.” The man ran back into the sewer from which he’d stepped earlier, nodding and mumbling to himself. The figure of the handsome teen cast a misshapen shadow the wall, revealing Grendel’s deformities for any who cared to look. In seconds, even the sound of him moving through the water was gone.
Jackie and Kurt wasted substantially less time waiting for Chester DuBois’ arrival than they had waiting on Uriah Winter. The Nosferatu elder of Miami didn’t bother to disguise his features like Grendel did. He showed himself in his natural state, his blue skin and deformed body clear evidence of his particular clan. Jackie stepped back slightly, but Kurt stayed where he was and extended his hand for a shake just as he had with the other Nosferatu. DuBois accepted his hand and nodded his acceptance of the gesture. He stared intently at Kurt, his eyes focusing from different heights in a face that belonged only in nightmares. Within minutes they were discussing all of the details about the meeting the next night. Kurt lea
rned that Anvil had imported a new man for the position of prince, a bruiser by the name of Crusher. He’d never met the man, but he had heard tales of Crusher’s ferocity. This was not what the Ventrue Clan wanted for Miami, and Kurt intended to make certain the Brujah did not succeed in their attempted coup. DuBois made mention of an unexpected bonus and asked the two to wait just once more while he made arrangements for an early meeting the next night.
They spent the remainder of the night and a good portion of the early morning hours waiting, but it was worth the patience and the rewards were tremendous. Later, after the deal had been struck, all the plans had been solidified, and he was finally able to get back to the Hilton, Kurt showered vigorously, imagining the raw contaminants that had touched his body. The Nosferatu really were the most revolting creatures he could think of, but their domiciles were even worse.
The weather had turned foul sometime before Kurt awoke for the evening. His best shoes were beyond repair despite Jackie’s best efforts, the Mariott was far too crowded for his tastes, and to top everything else off, Uriah Winter was late. Kurt had started to contemplate the best ways to destroy the clanless little whelp when he finally showed up with a small group of dressed like any of a dozen youth gangs from coast to coast in the U.S. Jackie looked displeased by the turn out, but Kurt just smiled.
“Hi, Kurt.” Winter's voice was saccharine at best. “Sorry I’m late. You know how it is — you get hung up in traffic, and then it all goes to hell.” The smirk on his face made a lie of his words.
“It’s not a problem. This time. Perhaps in the future I should take my business elsewhere." Apparently Winter got the hint; he put on a straight face. “Now then, let’s get down to business, shall we?"
Kurt sat down with the other vampire and the leader of the pack of humans and started talking. Within half an hour, all the details were settled, and the first part of Westphal’s plans were set into motion. He climbed into the limousine a few minutes later, worrying about the wasted time.