Catskinner's Book (The Book Of Lost Doors)

by Misha Burnett

Also granted. You also need to be more aware of how my body is doing.

  i can keep the body safe.

  So can I. You can't be out all the time. You have to trust me.

  i trust you. i don't trust the world.

  Do you trust Godiva?

  i don't trust the world.

  She saved our life.

  That reminded me of something. I turned to Godiva. “Do you want some food? I mean, do you need it after . . . doing that?”

  She shook her head. “I'm okay.”

  “How about you guys?” I asked the two agents. “You want anything? I'm buying.”

  A grunt from White. Russwin said, “Yeah, I could use a soda. Something with caffeine in it.”

  White said, “Yeah, now that you mention it, me, too. It's been a long day.”

  “I'll be right back.” I slid open the sliding door and stepped out. Catskinner was aware, his attention radiating all around me, but I didn't feel it focused on anything in particular and he wasn't trying to take control.

  I thought about what he said as I crossed the lot to the restaurant.

  i trust you. i don't trust the world.

  I had to admit he had a point.

  Once I got back to the van with the sodas, they had decided what to do next. We were going to head up to the bowling alley and meet with Alice again. Some plan. I could have thought of that one myself.

  I was feeling better, so I told Russwin to get out of the way and let me drive. He got in the back with Godiva.

  Alice was already sitting at a big table in the back when we got there. White volunteered to fetch drinks while the rest of us joined her.

  “Okay, so what happened?” Alice began.

  Godiva looked over at Russwin. He nodded and gave Alice a brief rundown of the events.

  “Any chance that it wasn't Morgan who sent those things?” Alice asked when he was done.

  Godiva frowned. “I suppose it's possible. . . .”

  White had come back by that point. “Who else would make a blatant move like that against the Manchester nest?” he asked.

  “Wait—” I objected. “You figure the nest was the target? I thought they were after us.”

  “They were,” White agreed. “But using minraudim is like using a nuke—you have to expect collateral damage. Even if you hadn't killed their handler, they would have still burned the nest. They burn everything in their path.”

  “And now they're loose in West County?” That didn't sound good at all.

  Russwin shook his head. “They don't live long in this environment. It's too cold—even with all the fires they set. Odds are they are already dead and reverted.”

  “Reverted?” Another new word.

  Alice explained. “Most exobiotics are inherently unstable. They don't belong in this universe. It's like . . . holding a balloon underwater, it takes energy to keep them here. Once the energy is gone, they sort of fall apart.”

  I consider that. “Like the dish soap thing?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What's OTH mean?” Godiva asked White suddenly.

  He stared at her. “Huh?”

  “Before your partner called Alice you said she never works with OTH assets. What did you mean by that?”

  Russwin leaned over the table. “Other Than Human,” he explained softly. “No offense, but the two of you are.”

  Godiva turned to Alice and raised her eyebrows.

  “I do not work with 'assets', I work with people,” Alice said angrily. She turned her glare to White. “And yes, I do work with people who have been altered.”

  White didn't seem at all uncomfortable. “It's not your usual MO. Considering this guy's rep”—he nodded in my direction—“I figured the odds were against you having a conversation with him and staying healthy.”

  “And yet here I am,” Alice pointed out.

  “And here I am, too.” I was starting to find White really annoying. “This guy doesn't just slaughter everyone he meets, you know.”

  White turned to me. “Maybe not every single person, no.”

  “James, like it or not, you are a very dangerous man,” Russwin said. “Threat assessment deals with capabilities, not intentions.”

  That reminded me of something. “Alice, you know these two?”

  She nodded. “We've worked together in the past.”

  “Are they really federal agents?”

  Alice gave a wry smile. “They're campers.”

  “Campers?” Godiva was looking interested, too.

  “Basically they find an empty office in a federal building and move in.” Alice explained.

  I stared at the men. “Does that work?”

  “She's oversimplifying,” Russwin said.

  White frowned. “We arrange for lateral transfers into temporarily understaffed positions.”

  Godiva grinned. “And no one ever questions who sent you?”

  “All it takes is an understanding of how the bureaucracy operates and fair amount of chutzpa,” Alice continued. “When a department needs help and someone shows up to work, most people aren't going to look too hard at the paperwork.”

  “As I said earlier, Russwin and I are specialists. We bring a unique understanding of certain lesser acknowledged phenomenon to our assignments.” White took a drink of his soda. “We go where there is a need.”

  Godiva raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

  Russwin stood up. “Thanks for the lift, but I think my partner and I have work to do. See you around.”

  White sighed and stayed where he was. “Sit down, Cobb,” he said. “I think it's a little late to just walk away.”

  Russwin shook his head. “I don't think this is our fight, Tom.”

  Godiva looked up at him. “Please, Mr. Russwin. We could use your help.”

  Russwin sat back down. “What kind of help?”

  “Information, mostly. What can you tell us about Morgan?”

  Russwin sighed. “He's mid-thirties, born in Chicago, moved here to go to school. Started as a math major, moved to education, then dropped out. He's got a record, all little stuff. Shoplifting, misdemeanor possession, a credit card fraud charge that was later dismissed. About ten years ago he started making big money as a day trader. Then he fell off the grid. No bank accounts, no tax returns, no driver's license, no vehicle registration—nothing. Just vanished.”

  Godiva frowned. “What about The Good Earth?”

  White picked it up. “On paper it's owned by a 501c3 nonprofit called The Good Earth Food Co-Op. It doesn't have any employees, and the officers are just names and post office boxes. We know Morgan owns it, and a bunch of other crap, but we can't prove it.”

  “Post office boxes,” I mused. “Someone has to pick up the mail, right? I mean, they get official documents and stuff there.”

  “A messenger service,” Alice interjected. “I looked into that, it's a dead end.”

  I frowned. “He can't get everything delivered.”

  “Actually, he can,” White said.

  Godiva shook her head. “There has got to be some way to draw him out. Something that he'll have to deal with in person.”

  “Look, maybe we're thinking about this all wrong—” I started.

  Everybody looked at me expectantly. Oh, right, now I was supposed to explain what thinking about it all right would be. Unfortunately, I didn't have any clear idea.

  “Are we sure that we can't come to some kind of arrangement? I mean, does this have to be about killing somebody?” I tried.

  Russwin leaned back, folded his arms. “Honestly, I never expected you to be advocating restraint.”

  “And what's that supposed to mean?” I didn't like his tone.

  “Well, from what I know about you—” he started.

  I didn't let him finish. “You don't know anything about me.”

  He cocked his head. “Actually, we do. James Ozryck, known associate of Victor Sells, aka Victor Scziller, aka Viktor Szeck,” Russwin handled the Eastern European na
mes better than I did, “suspected involvement in no fewer than seventy counts of murder one. You're a killer for hire, and a damned good one.”

  I looked down at my hands. “You don't know anything about me,” I repeated.

  Russwin kept going. “Believed also to be Adam Chase, which if true would put the count closer to a hundred and fifty.”

  I looked up and met his eyes. “I have never killed anyone,” I said softly.

  An exaggerated eye-roll. “Oh, that's right, it's not you, it's that thing inside you. Well, you know something, it doesn't make one damn bit of difference to me.”

  “That's because you're an idiot,” Godiva blurted out.

  Russwin glared at her. White stifled a snort.

  Godiva refused to back down. “Well, you are. It makes a huge difference. How long did it take Catskinner to take your gun away? Half a second? Why do you think he didn't go ahead and kill you? Because James isn't a killer—and that's why you're alive right now.”

  Russwin opened his mouth, but White interrupted him. “She's right, you know.”

  Russwin turned to White, frowned, then nodded slowly. He turned back to me. “Okay, fair enough. You”—he emphasized the word— “would rather not kill Morgan. But Catskinner can and will.”

  “and wants to,” Catskinner's voice just came out. I hadn't known he was even listening.

  “Right.” Russwin looked carefully at my face, and I could see him seeing the differences. “Well, maybe we should be talking to you, then.”

  My eyes turned to Godiva. “he is not an idiot.”

  “Well, no, not literally,” Godiva allowed, “Technically, an idiot has the mental capacity of a four year old.”

  My eyes flickered back to Russwin. “it is hard for you to kill your own kind. you are frightened of james because you think it is easy for james to kill his own kind. you are wrong. james does not kill. i kill, and it is easy for me because humans are not my kind.”

  And then he was gone, leaving me facing Russwin's eyes—eyes that looked me like I was an infectious disease.

  “You're right,” I told him, “this is not your fight.”

  “Now, let's just wait a minute—” White objected.

  “You said it yourself,” I reminded him, “Other Than Human. What do you care what happens to me and Godiva?”

  “I care because you can keep me alive,” White shot back. “Look, I get it—you're tired of being treated like a monster and you want somebody to like you for you. And, believe me, I'd love to be able to say that I think you're a sweet guy and I'll invite you to my daughter's quinceañera, but you and I both know I'd be lying. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you saved me from being burned alive—as far as I'm concerned that puts you on the side of the angels.”

  White directed a pointed look at Russwin. “Now if we can all just put our egos away for a few minutes, let's talk about how we can all work together to stay healthy.”

  Russwin glanced at White, nodded, then turned back to me. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn't understand.”

  I nodded. Was I supposed to apologize to him now? “It's confusing,” I admitted. That was as close as I could get.

  That seemed to satisfy him. He leaned back in his chair and looked over at Alice. “So what now?”

  She sighed deeply. “Well, the usual strategy against someone who is holed up is a siege. But I don't see us having time for that—I'm sure he's got reserves.”

  Something occurred to me. “What about his power?”

  “He's been consolidating his forces for years—” Alice began.

  I waved my hands to cut her off, and Russwin flinched. Sorry. “No, no, I mean his electric power.”

  They looked at me.

  “I didn't see a generator in that place. He's on the city power, right?”

  White nodded slowly. “Yeah, his utilities are paid from a Good Earth account. Electric, gas, water, sewer, all the usuals.”

  “So we can cut his power lines,” I suggested. “That might get a reaction.”

  Russwin frowned. “You can't just cut down high tension wires.”

  White agreed. “And if you did, Ameren UE would just put them back up. He wouldn't have to leave the shop.”

  Godiva cocked her head. “Have you guys got any pull with the utility companies?”

  A pause. Then, “Not as such,” from Russwin, but slowly, like he was thinking it over.

  White looked over at him. “We could maybe get a grand jury to freeze the account temporarily...”

  Russwin shook his head. “Too slow. We'd need to do it from a public safety angle.”

  “What township is that?” Godiva asked.

  “Unincorporated county,” Alice answered her.

  “Still?”

  “Yeah,” White said. “There's about six blocks in there that are still unincorporated. I get the feeling that he likes it that way.”

  Russwin nodded slowly, thinking it over. “County Fire, then. We can work with them.”

  I remembered something. “When I was there, he said the fire inspectors didn't know he existed.”

  “Interesting,” White said, “Let's see what we can do about that. Maybe HUD?”

  Russwin nodded. “I was thinking Census, but HUD might work better.”

  I wasn't quite following the discussion, even though I had kind of started it. “So, you can use HUD to shut off his electricity?”

  “Not exactly,” White countered, “but utility customers are required to be in compliance with certain federal, state, and local ordinances, which, in turn are interpreted by the local authority having jurisdiction, who in this case would be County Fire. Now, County Fire has a vested interest in maintaining the good will of Housing and Urban Development, and would be inclined to cooperate, eh, vigorously, with an ongoing investigation into a fraud case involving the misapprehension of federal funds.”

  “Which the Good Earth does not receive,” Alice pointed out.

  “Not directly, no,” Russwin allowed, “however, as a 501c3—”

  “IRS,” White said.

  “Great, who gets to swim with the sharks?” Russwin sighed.

  “Flip you for it,” White suggested.

  “You can get his utilities shut off?” Godiva asked.

  White looked at Russwin. Russwin looked at White, then over to Godiva. “Tomorrow's Monday. I'm thinking Wednesday, can you survive until Wednesday?”

  Catskinner answered for all of us. “yes.”

  Alice nodded slowly. “That should work.”

  “What the hell—?” Godiva was looking over White's shoulder.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “death is the cessation of appetite.”

  I turned slowly. Whatever was going on hadn't triggered Catskinner's threat radar, his attention stayed focused on Russwin and White. At first I couldn't tell what Godiva was looking at.

  Things seemed normal, for a bowling alley on a Sunday afternoon. About half of the lanes were in use and nobody looked like they were taking it too seriously—not the hushed concentration of a league night. An ordinary crowd, jeans and T-shirts, the bowling an excuse to eat junk food and drink beer on a Sunday afternoon. But then I noticed a group coming in the door that wasn't ordinary.

  My first thought was “beach volleyball team.” But this wasn't Southern California. Firm young bodies in tight shorts and tank tops, white against tanned skin. Bright smiles and flowing hair, pink lipstick and fingernails.

  And every one of them was wearing sunglasses.

  Godiva stood up. Russwin and White reflexively flanked their hands on their holsters, looking more confused than concerned. Even Catskinner didn't see the new arrivals as a threat.

  Nor did the patrons of the bowling alley.

  The group of young women spread out from the entrance, smiling warmly. It looked like an advertising gimmick. I expected them to start handing out fliers or free samples of hair care products. Obviously Godiva expected something different.

&nbs
p; “Don't let them get close,” she said to White and Russwin. “They spit.”

  Russwin gave her a sharp look, then nodded, turning his attention back to the newcomers. They were joining the small groups that occupied the lanes, introducing themselves and joining in the conversations. I saw, or felt, an echo of Catskinner's perceptions of their movements as a strategic infiltration and his focus warmed my back. None of them approached us, but I started to share Godiva's concern.

  “Who are they?” I asked Alice softly.

  “They're ambimorphs,” she answered, watching them warily. “But what are they doing here?”

  Oh yes, of course. Ambimorphs. That explained . . . nothing. Still, whatever they were had Godiva concerned. I stood up. “Okay, so, I'm going to take a wild guess and say it's time to go.”

  Alice stood and we started moving towards the exit. A lean young woman—ambimorph—was sitting on the counter by the door, her athletic legs stretched out. The counterman was untying her sneakers, a goofy grin on his face. Neither of them so much as looked up as we passed, but I noticed Russwin had his gun out, holding down by his leg, and White kept his hand on his holster.

  Somebody started clapping, rhythmically and I jumped. One of the ambimorphs had climbed on a table and was starting to dance surrounded by a wide-eyed crowd. This was getting really creepy.

  “I can't believe he sent them to try and stop us,” Godiva muttered, sounding disgusted.

  “He didn't,” said a new voice. A man was standing in the front lobby. A big man, muscular, with a shiny bald head, blocking the doors. “They're just here to pacify the crowd. I'm here to take you away.”

  White stopped and spread his arms slightly. “There's no reason this has to turn ugly. Just get out of the way and we'll be gone.”

  The bald man shrugged. “Sure, go ahead. You two can take off, or stay here and play with the girlies, or, heck, bowl a couple of frames. I don't care.” He pointed at me and Godiva. “It's those two who are coming with me.”

  “we go nowhere at your bidding, hired man.” Catskinner had slid into my body like a hand into a glove, smoothly filling the spaces between my nerve endings. I felt White and Russwin close ranks to either side of me, and Godiva slip behind us. Catskinner didn't turn to watch the others—maybe he was learning to trust them, or maybe he just saw the big man blocking the exit as the greater threat.