“This okay?” Russwin asked. His voice was low and calm, with a hint of some rural accent.
Godiva nodded. “Sure. Mr. White, how about you join your partner?”
White made a large circle around us and backed up to the back of the car. “Okay, now could you please tell us what you are doing here?”
Godiva grinned at him. “Shopping.”
White shook his head. “I don't believe you.”
Godiva turned to Russwin. “What federal agency do you two work for, exactly?”
“State Department.”
“Uh huh. Got some ID?”
Russwin reached carefully into his jacket and pulled out a wallet. He flipped it open. Godiva leaned forward and spat in his face.
The effect was electric. Russwin cursed and began clawing at his eyes with his free hand. His gun was waving all over the place. I felt Catskinner surge forward and I let him go, and then the gun was in my hand. White started to bring his gun up, and then it was in my other hand and White was on the ground behind their car.
“Nobody move!” I shouted, and felt Catskinner retreat—a little—as I said it. White lifted his hands without getting up. Russwin was still rubbing his face. I stood there with a gun in each hand.
“Hey,” White said. “Let's just all relax a little, all right? Take a deep breath. Cobb, are you okay?”
“She spit acid in my face!” He sounded upset, but not injured.
“It's allyl isothiocyanate, actually,” Godiva explained, which explained nothing. Realizing that, she added, “It's the active ingredient in horseradish.”
I stared at her. “You didn't eat any horseradish,” I objected.
“My body can synthesize—that's not important right now. He'll be fine, it just hurts.”
“Damn right it does,” Russwin muttered bitterly.
“It's okay, though, right?” White was speaking very slowly and a little too calm. “Nobody's hurt, right? Nobody has to do anything drastic.”
I was in favor of not doing anything drastic. Federal agents were cops, and cops never stop looking for people who do drastic things to other cops.
“Okay. . .” I thought for a few seconds. “How about I throw the guns behind the store, and then we take off and you forget you ever saw us?”
“Works for me,” Russwin growled. He'd stopped rubbing his face and sounded better.
“No!” Godiva objected. “Not until we get some answers.”
White propped himself up on his elbows. “Okay, ask away.”
Russwin dropped his hands. His face was red and blotchy. “Tom . . .”
White sighed. “Yes, Cobb, I know.”
“I'm just saying. . . .”
White turned his head to look up to where his partner leaned against the car. “You were right, and I was wrong. Are you happy now?”
“Not really.” Russwin looked at Godiva. “What do you want to know?”
“What are you two doing here?”
“Surveillance,” White said, as if the answer should have been obvious.
“On whom?”
They paused on that one, shared a glance. Russwin fielded it. “We have intelligence that indicates this location may be used by agents of a foreign power.”
“How foreign?” I asked. “I mean, you're not talking about France or Norway here, right? Agents of someplace a lot farther away?”
Godiva shot me a warning glance, but I figured they already knew more than most people or they wouldn't be here.
A slow thoughtful nod from Russwin, then; “Yeah. Very foreign agents.”
“So the government knows about . . . the outsiders?”
Russwin looked down at the ground, “Well, I wouldn't say—”
White interrupted him quickly. “We can't comment on that.”
Interesting. I looked down at the guns. I was still holding one in each hand. They were getting heavy but I didn't want to set them down. They were identical chrome automatics. I didn't know much about guns, but they looked like cop guns to me.
“Why does your car have New Mexico plates?” Godiva asked suddenly. I looked at the back of the car—I hadn't noticed before, but she was right.
That caught them off guard. “It's what we were issued,” White said, but he didn't sound convincing. Russwin sighed, still looking at the ground.
“You're not really federal agents,” Godiva said.
Russwin looked up at her. “Actually, we really are. The situation is, uh—”
“Kind of fluid,” White finished for him.
“Non-conventional” Russwin added.
“Ad hoc,” from White.
“We operate primarily as inter-agency liaisons,” Russwin concluded.
Godiva raised her eyebrows. “Really. Between which agencies?”
“Well,” White began, “you have to realize that there is a considerable degree of jurisdictional latitude within the federal system—”
“If something were to happen to you two right now, who would come looking for you?” Godiva asked.
Another shared look. “The Bureau, of course, it'd be their jurisdiction,” from Russwin.
“So if I called the local FBI office right now they'd be able to confirm that you're federal agents?”
“Now, I couldn't say that the local duty officer would be in a position to provide confirmation, as such,” from White.
“There are procedures, you know. Channels.” Russwin added.
“It might take some time to process a request like that.” White again. “Days. Weeks, even.”
I was getting tired of them, and the guns were still heavy. “I bet they work for Morgan.”
Everybody got really quiet.
“Morgan?” White asked slowly.
“I knew a Joanna Morgan at BIA in Oklahoma City,” Russwin ventured.
“Keith Morgan.” I said, “Here in town. He wants to kill me, and I think you work for him.”
“No.” From White.
“Absolutely not.” From Russwin.
Godiva chewed her lip. “No, I think they're just con men.”
“Now wait just a minute,” White seemed genuinely indignant. “We do a lot of important work. You know—you know damn well—that there are things out there that most of the human race is not prepared to deal with. That includes law enforcement on every level. We provide intelligence that allows agencies to make informed decisions. Intelligence that saves lives.”
“You lie to them.” Godiva interpreted.
“We tell them what they'll believe.” Russwin didn't sound angry, just old and very tired. “You figure if we told Interstate Commerce that this video piracy operation here was run by some kind of hive mind organism using human hosts they'd take it seriously? Instead we say it's a Ukrainian mob and exaggerate the numbers a little, play up the human trafficking and brainwashing angles. We tell them what's going to give them a fighting chance to survive what they're walking into.”
“That still doesn't explain who you're working for,” Godiva pointed out.
“I like to think that we're working for the human race,” White said.
I sighed. More knights. “Yeah, you and Alice.”
Russwin stiffened. “Alice? Alice who?”
Godiva rolled her eyes at me. I shrugged—I'm just not cut out for covert ops.
“You're talking about Alice Mason, aren't you?” White growled. “What have you done with her?”
“Relax,” Godiva spread her hands, “Alice is a common name.”
White dropped to the ground and rolled under the car.
Catskinner jerked my body to follow but I fought him. From under the car I heard a metallic slide and click. A very weapon-like sound.
“Yes, Alice Mason, but she's fine!” I shouted. It was all I could do to hold Catskinner back. “We're working with her—I'm not going to hurt her!”
“Bullshit!” from White under the car. “Mason doesn't work with OTH assets.”
OTH? I wondered, and then Catskinner surg
ed up like a wave and I was swept away. I was on top of the car and then sliding down the hood and then Russwin was in my arms, his hands pinioned at his sides. Catskinner had dropped the gun in my left hand. I wasn't sure when.
“throw out the shotgun now or i rip out his heart.”
“Let him go or I shoot your girlfriend's legs off!” White countered.
Don't let Godiva get hurt, I silently begged Catskinner.
i won't. trust me.
“Everybody!” Godiva hollered, “Just! Calm! The! Fuck! Down!”
Catskinner was half facing the road. In my peripheral vision I could see traffic continuing to flow up and down Manchester road. People just drove right by our little drama. People see what they want to see.
Godiva took a deep breath. “White, Alice Mason was fine when we left her this morning. Russwin, why don't you call her and ask her about us? Catskinner, let Russwin go so he can make the call. He's not a threat to you.”
“the other one is.”
“The shotgun's pointed at me, not you. I'm the one taking the risk. Let him go.” Godiva was speaking very slowly and carefully.
i don't like this.
Me, either, but she's right. Let him go, and maybe we can avoid any more violence.
Catskinner released Russwin, but he kept control of my body. I was starting to really worry about my blood sugar reserves.
Russwin faced Catskinner. “I'm going to get my phone out now.” He reached slowly into his jacket pocket and came out with a phone.
“mr. white if you shoot godiva i will skin both of you.”
“Understood.” from under the car.
Russwin paged through the numbers on his phone and selected one. I could hear it ring, then—
“Alice. Hi, it's Cobb Russwin. Look, we've got kind of a situation here.”
A pause. I could hear that Alice was talking, but couldn't catch the words.
“Well, we've run across a couple of folks that say they know you—”
Another pause.
“Yeah, that's them, all right.”
A big white truck was slowing as it approached the entrance to the parking lot. I probably wouldn't have noticed it, but Catskinner did and he moved my head to follow it.
Russwin chuckled, then said, “I'll tell him that.” Louder; “Tom, Alice says stop being such a dick.”
From under the car White started saying, “Look, you tell her—” but I missed the rest because the white truck turned into the lot and began accelerating towards us, and Catskinner let go of Russwin and launched me towards it.
My feet were hitting the windshield and going through it in a shower of glass before I got a good look at the driver, and then Catskinner threw him out of the cab.
drive. now.
And I was in the driver's seat, both figuratively and literally. Catskinner couldn't handle machines, something about the concept of indirect action was beyond him. I grabbed the steering wheel and spun it. I didn't have time to try to find the pedals, and it was headed straight for the car.
Evidently big trucks don't corner so well at high speed. I could tell that it was tipping, but there wasn't a hell of a lot I could do except try to hang on. All the loose trash in the cab—fast food wrappers, coffee cups, random tools—came at me.
i didn't expect you to crash it.
I didn't have a lot of choice.
There was a whole lot of noise and a whole lot of glass, and then I was lying on my side against what was left of the driver's side window with the wind knocked out of me and new set of bruises pretty much everywhere.
Chapter Fourteen
“for all things that live and must one day die, weep tears of blood. for all that dies and first must live, weep tears of iron.”
The motor was still running, ragged and choppy, so I reached up and turned the key until it stopped.
I started to get up. I hurt, but didn't seem to be badly injured anywhere. There was a lot of blood on the pavement, but it wasn't coming from me. I guessed the driver went under the wheel when Catskinner tossed him out of the cab. I'd missed White and Russwin's car, The truck lay on its side diagonally across the lot. The two feds—or psuedofeds, or whatever they were—stood behind the car, next to Godiva. They weren't threatening her, all three of them were looking at me.
I'd managed to mostly fill my lungs, so I tried calling to them. “I'm okay.” I didn't sound convincing, even to myself.
“Get out of the truck!” Godiva hollered back, which is when I smelled something burning.
I didn't want to turn my body over to Catskinner until I had figured out just how badly I was worn down, but if I didn't move quickly he would take it. I got to my feet and stepped out through the shattered windshield. I was unsteady on feet, but vertical.
I was tottering towards the car when I heard something moving from the truck. It sounded like a chain being dragged across concrete and I felt a heat like the inside of an oven. Catskinner reached and I let him have control—I'd take exhaustion and some pulled muscles over being incinerated.
Catskinner sprinted to the car and I saw that all three of them had guns—White had the shotgun that had been hidden under the car, Russwin and Godiva each had one of the automatics. Catskinner dropped and rolled, under the car and up on my feet on the other side, next to Godiva. Only then did I get a chance to see whatever they were all aiming at.
At first it looked like molten copper was pouring out of the back of the truck, waves of heat shimmers rising over it. But why would they be pointing guns at molten metal?
“What the hell are they?” Godiva hissed.
“Minraudim,” White spat back.
He swung the shotgun and fired a half dozen rounds into the advancing mass. Instead of splashes, there was a confused tangle of lines that resolved themselves into legs and bits of shell, and all of a sudden I realized that I was looking at a swarm of centipedes—hot metal centipedes. The shotgun blasts had torn a whole in the swarm, but they closed ranks and kept coming.
White pulled open the car door and reached inside for more shells. Russwin emptied his gun into the swarm as White reloaded and after a moment Godiva did likewise. The bullets were killing individual centipedes—minraudim, White had called them—but there were far too many of them for killing them one at a time to save us.
Got any ideas? I asked Catskinner in my head.
“we should run,” he said aloud.
“Great idea!” White agreed. He had the shotgun ready again, and swept it in an arc, firing another six shots. “Your van?”
Godiva was struggling with the gun, trying to get the clip out. Russwin grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her towards the van. Catskinner spun me and I sprinted for the driver's door. He swung me inside and released me, and my vision went gray. I struggled to get the keys out of my pocket. I was drained. Catskinner had pushed my body too far, too fast, with too little time to recover.
The others reached the van. Russwin was first through the door, I handed him the keys and struggled into the back.
“You drive,” I managed to gasp out.
He took the keys and slid into the driver's seat, pushing me out of the way. I hit the floor and Godiva scrambled over to me. Russwin started the van and floored it as White was still climbing into the passenger seat. Godiva landed on me in a heap. She smelled nice, but it still hurt.
“James.” Godiva pulled me so that I was lying on her more than the other way around. “What's wrong?”
Dimly I was aware of a blast of heat as the fed's car burst into flame. Russwin had gotten the van turned around and was heading down the alley behind the store. I hoped it led out to the street eventually.
“I'm just tired.” I was losing consciousness. “He . . . .”
I felt her smooth small hands encircling my face and she pulled her face to mine. “Relax,” she whispered. “Just take it.” And then her lips were against mine. She still had her teeth in, and I could feel how they didn't quite fit, that more was moving in he
r mouth than just her tongue. I could taste sweetness on her lips.
Then something in her chest heaved and my mouth was suddenly full of something thick and sweet. Shocked, I started to choke and then swallowed it. Her chest heaved again and she fed me more of it, it was warm and tasted faintly of mint.
“Oh, fergoodnesssake!” I heard White's disgusted mutter from the front seat. I opened my eyes.
Godiva pulled back her face from mine and I drew in a long breath.
“Better?” she asked softly.
I realized it was better. Whatever she'd produced for me must have been nearly pure glucose sugar, and I felt energy returning.
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”
She smiled at me, then turned to White. “We need to stop and get some food.”
“Now?” Russwin asked irritably.
“As soon as possible,” I said. “Catskinner—my outsider friend—burns a lot of calories.”
“Makes sense,” White said grudgingly. Then to Russwin, “We've got time—no one's going to follow us out of that.”
I managed to sit up enough to look out the window. The entire store that had housed the nest was engulfed in flames. The sky was dark with smoke.
“Morgan,” I said. “He figured if they wouldn't work for him. . . .”
“Then they won't be working for anyone,” White agreed. “He's a son of a bitch, all right.”
The alley reached a cross street at the end and Russwin turned onto it, headed back to Manchester. There was a fast food place on the corner.
“This do you?” Russwin asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Get me one of everything, and supersize it.”
We ordered through the drive-thru and then parked in the lot. While I engulfed forty bucks worth of burgers and fries Godiva talked strategy with Russwin and White. I didn't really listen. I had already decided to go along with whatever she wanted to do. She was clearly smarter than I was, and besides, I had another conversation to listen that was more important.
You could have killed us.
the fire arachnids would have done so.
Granted. Still, I don't want to cut it that close again.
we should keep food in the van.
Catskinner's Book (The Book Of Lost Doors) Page 11