[Santa Olivia 02] - Saints Astray

by Jacqueline Carey

  “Everything go okay out there?” Pilar asked, relieved to see her.

  “More or less. The fireworks fizzled.” Loup wrinkled her nose. “Still smells like smoke, though.”

  “To you, maybe.” Pilar handed her two champagne flutes. “Back to your mistress, cabin boy.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  By the time she returned, Rose and McDermott had already been served. “Never mind.” He quaffed his first glass while well-wishers greeted his pirate queen, then surreptitiously downed the two that Loup had brought. “I could use something with a wee bit more bite.” He glanced longingly in the direction of Pilar’s station. “Tell her ladyship I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.”

  Several minutes later, Rose noticed his absence and glanced around to spot him leaning on the counter of the bar, flirting with Pilar. “I knew I didn’t want her here!” She stamped her foot. “Tip, fetch him back!”

  “Don’t want to leave you unattended, mum.” Loup pushed the transmit button. “Pilar, please send the nice pirate captain away.”

  A few members of the security team hid smiles. Diarmuid McDermott returned with a glass of whiskey, weaving very slightly.

  “Forgive me, my English Rose,” he said smoothly. “I do but wish to toast to your beauty!” He hoisted his glass and drank.

  She lifted her chin. “You’re not what I expected.”

  He lowered his glass and gave her a rakish grin. “Do you not read the tabloids, love?”

  While servers circled the tables, pouring ice water in preparation for the early dinner, a band in Regency attire began to play. McDermott handed his glass to Loup and bowed to Rose. “Let me make it up to you on the dance floor, my lady.”

  Loup shifted to get a better angle, watching them dance. Other couples joined them. The flush returned to Rose’s cheeks—but then, it was unseasonably warm and growing warmer in the crowded hall.

  And she still smelled smoke.

  She sniffed her clothing, then the clothing of a startled actor in pirate costume. There was a lingering trace of smoke and a corditelike smell from the botched special effects. Not the same smell. Loup moved closer to the balcony, where a handful of guests were smoking cigars. It wasn’t that, either.

  “Henry,” she said into her earpiece. “Can you come here a second?”

  He made his way to her. “What is it?”

  “I smell smoke.”

  “Probably just from the special effects.” He lowered his voice, conspiratorial. “We arranged for them to flub the big one for safety’s sake. Dear Papa was in on it.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not. Trust me, I can tell the difference. If it were my call, I think we should evacuate.”

  Henry looked around the crowded hall. “I’ll check it out. We vetted this place pretty thoroughly.”

  Five minutes later, the fire broke out.

  It started as a charred spot on the eastern wall, spreading rapidly and bursting into open flame that quickly began to devour antique wallpaper and hanging draperies. At the first scream of “Fire!” a stampede ensued, turning swiftly to a deadly, crushing pandemonium as guests unwittingly blocked the doors.

  “Shit!” Loup plowed her way against the tide of people. She passed the fleeing Diarmuid McDermott and grabbed a terrified Rose, dragging her in the opposite direction. The girl kicked and screamed. “You can’t go that way! People are getting trampled!”

  “I don’t want to die in the fire!”

  “You won’t!” She jerked her chin at Pilar, half-frozen behind her bar station, trying to summon her while hauling Rose to the farthest western corner and yanking open a window. “Stick your head out the window, okay? Breathe the fresh air.”

  “Loup!” Henry’s voice came over her earpiece, tight and strained, barely audible over the screaming. “Do you have the target in a safe place?”

  “Yeah!” she shouted back.

  “Do not attempt to exit right now. Hold your position until my word. Do you copy?”

  “Copy. Don’t worry. I can get her out safe.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” a man’s voice said, calm and menacing.

  Loup squinted through the thickening smoke to see a figure holding a gun emerge—an actor in a striped sailor’s shirt. She shifted instinctively to block Rose, who let out a terrified squeak and hid behind her.

  “Move away from the girl.” The sailor gestured with his gun. “This isn’t your fight.”

  “Fuck you.” She stared at the round black bore and felt the distant, empty feeling inside her where fear should be, coupled with rising anger. The sailor stopped at a wary distance, but well within shooting range. Loup calculated and realized that even with her speed, she couldn’t get to him before he got off a shot—at least not without exposing her client. She made a quick move for the holster concealed under her vest.

  Fast as she was, she wasn’t faster than a speeding bullet.

  The sailor fired over her head, then aimed at her chest. The gunshot set off more screaming in the background. Henry was shouting in her earpiece. The sailor raised his voice. “Step away from the girl!”

  Loup sighed, the empty feeling growing. She really, really didn’t want to get shot and killed trying to protect a thirteen-year-old spoiled brat, but she couldn’t abandon her, either. She hoped Pilar would understand and forgive her one day. “I can’t.”

  The sailor’s finger began to tighten on the trigger.

  “Drop your fucking gun!” Pilar stepped out of the coiling smoke and took a shooter’s stance beside Loup. Her voice was shaking, but the gun was steady.

  The sailor’s gun didn’t budge, either. “Drop yours or I shoot her.”

  She hesitated.

  “Rose,” Loup murmured, sidling closer. “Get behind Pilar. Pilar, get ready to shoot the fucker.”

  “Baby, don’t—”

  “Just do it!”

  The instant Rose obeyed and took cover behind Pilar, Loup darted off at an angle with inhuman speed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the gun in the sailor’s hand move instinctively to track her, and launched into a diving roll.

  There were two gunshots. Neither one hit her. She came up in a spinning crouch, unharmed, pistol drawn.

  The sailor blinked at her, wavering on his feet. There was a bloodstain spreading on his upper right arm and he couldn’t get his hand to raise the gun.

  “I’m sorry!” Pilar said behind her, tears in her voice. “I choked. I couldn’t shoot to kill.”

  “You did great.” Loup rose and holstered her pistol. “Perfect, even. If he lives through this, they’re gonna want to question him.” She plucked the gun from his nerveless hand, ejected the cartridge, and checked the chamber, then tossed both out the window.

  “You—” he began.

  “Shut up.” For the first time in her life, she hit an ordinary human being with all her strength, throwing a right hook that shattered bones in his jaw and took him down like a sack of potatoes. “Okay.” The smoke was getting thick enough to sear her throat. “He’s going out the window, and so are we.”

  “It’s too high!” Rose wailed.

  Loup hoisted the limp sailor and dangled him out the window. “For him, maybe.” She let the body fall with a sickening thud. “But better broken bones than burning to death. Now you, you’re going to be safe as can be, because I’m going to catch you. I’m going to catch both of you.”

  Pilar looked at the two-story drop, then at her, worried. “Loup, it’s awfully far.”

  “I can do it. Can you lower Rose like I did the killer sailor?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” She nodded, eyes bright with tears. “Muy macha, sí?”

  “Sí.” Loup kissed her cheek, then climbed over the windowsill, mindful of the limp figure below. She hung from her hands, then let herself drop.

  It was a long drop.

  The manicured lawn rushed up to meet her. She landed in a perfect four-point stance, absorbing and dispersing the impact. Even
so, it jarred her entire body. It took her a few seconds to collect herself; then she rose on numb feet, shaking out her numb hands. She dragged the unconscious sailor’s body out of the way.

  “Okay!” she shouted.

  Rose panicked when Pilar lowered her by her wrists, flailing in the air.

  “I’m losing my grip!” Pilar struggled, leaning too far out the window. “Fuck! She’s gonna pull me over!”

  “Rose!” The word came out half shout, half growl. “Cut it out! Remember the apple? I will fucking catch you!”

  The girl stopped flailing.

  “Now!”

  Pilar let her go.

  Loup caught her deftly and set her feet gently on the ground.

  “You… you hurt my sides.” Rose sniffled, more bewildered and terrified than hurt.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I tried to be as careful as I could.” Loup turned back to the window. “Ready?”

  Pilar, white-faced, didn’t answer, only climbed out the window and let herself hang from the sill, arms trembling.

  “Okay!” Loup called.

  She let go.

  Loup caught her around the waist, staggering a little under the greater impact, then setting her down. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Pilar turned breathlessly in her arms. “Thanks, baby.” She pulled herself together and knelt in front of Rose. “How about you, honey? Are you all right?”

  “Bruised ribs, maybe,” Loup said. “I did my best.”

  “Does this hurt?” Pilar pressed lightly. “Here?”

  “No.” The girl’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated. “It doesn’t… it doesn’t hurt, really. I was just frightened.” She burst into tears. “Where’s… where’s my papa? Is he in there?”

  Loup glanced up at the window, seeing flames. She reached for the transmit button on her earpiece and realized she’d lost it along with her cap when she dove to avoid the killer’s bullet. “Pilar, is your radio working?”

  “I’ll check.” She held the sobbing Rose with one arm, pressing her earpiece with her free hand. “Henry? Anyone? What’s the status? We’ve got Rose out here, she’s safe.”

  They couldn’t hear anything but shouting and noise. Pilar’s gaze met Loup’s.

  “I’ll go,” Loup said. “Let’s get to a safe distance.” She took the unconscious man under the arms and dragged him some twenty yards across the lawn. Pilar followed, carrying the thirteen-year-old Rose with some effort. The crying girl clung to her, disdainful young lady turned scared child. They could hear sirens as fire engines and medical vehicles began to arrive. “Okay, good. Get Rose over to the ambulances and have her checked out. You too. And tell them about this guy.” She nodded at the sailor. One of his legs was bent at an unnatural angle, and his gunshot arm was bleeding. “He’s not going anywhere.”

  “Okay. Be careful, Loup!”

  “I will.”

  She raced around to the front of the château. A handful of guests had escaped unharmed and were milling on the front terrace in confusion. Loup cut through them and plunged back into the château.

  The scene on the great marble staircase that led to the second story was a nightmare. The fire and the worst of the smoke were upstairs, but the second and third waves of people attempting to escape had overtaken the first, trampling them. The staircase was clogged with partygoers, those on top trying to clamber desperately over those on the bottom. The sound of the cries from those trapped below was pitiful.

  “Fuck!” Loup grabbed the nearest body and hoisted, putting him down and whipping around to prevent someone else from taking his place. “Calm the fuck down, people!” she shouted, helping a battered woman to her feet.

  They didn’t.

  Swearing and hoisting, she worked to clear the stairs. Within minutes, firefighters arrived and began to assist. One caught Loup’s arm and said something in German, pointing toward the door.

  Another shook his head and said something else in an awestruck tone.

  She kept working.

  “Lupe!” Hugh Danielson, freed by a firefighter, staggered over to her. He was limping and had a welt rising on one cheek. He looked at her with the expression of a man not daring to hope. “Rose?”

  “She’s fine, sir.” Loup glanced at the staircase. The firefighters were beginning to restore order and clear a path. “Come with me.”

  She led him over to the ambulances, where they found Rose and Pilar, the former still clinging to the latter’s hand.

  “Papa!” She launched herself at him. He knelt and held her close, whispering against her hair, then held her away from him and examined her.

  “The medic says she’s fine,” Pilar offered.

  “She doesn’t have a scratch.” He looked up, bewildered. “How? I thought you were trapped toward the rear of the hall. And there were…” He swallowed. “Gunshots.”

  “Where’s the guy?” Loup asked Pilar.

  She pointed to a figure on a stretcher, a policeman standing guard. “Over there.”

  “That’s your shooter, sir,” Loup said to Danielson. “He shot at me and missed, and Pilar shot him in the arm. I knocked him out and threw him out the window, then we went out the window after him. Looks like they’ve got him in custody now.”

  He blinked slowly, glancing back at the château. Smoke was pouring out the second-story windows, vying with thick streams of water now that the fire engines were in place. “You… jumped?”

  “Loup jumped,” Pilar clarified. “She caught us.”

  He blinked again. “And you… shot that man?”

  “Yeah. Yes.” She shivered. “I did.”

  “Oh. Thank you.”

  “You’re—” Pilar startled and touched her earpiece. “Henry? Are you okay? Yeah, fine. Rose is fine. Loup, too. She lost her radio. We’re over by the ambulances with Mr. Danielson. Okay.” She nodded at Hugh Danielson. “You should get checked out by the medics, sir.”

  “Right.” He limped away, dazed, his daughter clutching his hand.

  “Shit.” Loup leaned against the side of an ambulance, feeling the bone-jarring ache of her hard landing and the strain of exertion in every fiber of her body, her throat and lungs smoke-scoured. She regarded the contained chaos of the ongoing rescue mission. “You think after all this they’ll figure it was worthwhile going through with it?”

  “I hope to God not.”

  “Me too.”

  “Loup…”

  “I know, I know.” She rolled her aching shoulders. “It was stupid and dangerous. But it was the only way I could think of to distract him and give you a clean shot without endangering the kid. It was dumb, but it worked. Okay?”

  “Okay. I don’t want to argue. Not today.” Pilar kissed her, soft and lingering. “Stupid fucking little hero,” she added, tears in her eyes.

  Loup smiled at her. “Yeah, well. You too, huh?”

  “I guess.”

  “Believe me, you are.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  There was an investigation and lengthy debriefing in the aftermath of the Danielson affair.

  Thanks to heroic efforts all around, there were no fatalities, but there were multiple injuries, many of them serious. The worst was a woman with a crushed rib cage and collapsed lungs, who was still in grave condition.

  And, of course, their client had nearly been assassinated.

  “This was a disaster of epic proportion,” Magnus said, curt and icy. “How did it happen?”

  “Intelligence failure and human error, sir,” Henry Kensington said steadily, his right arm in a sling. “I take full responsibility.”

  “Tell me.”

  “According to their specs, Château Legaspe’s wiring was thoroughly modernized and brought up to code seven years ago. The specs were provided by the company they contracted to perform the update, and we had no reason to question them.” He looked ill. “But according to the arson investigator, the majority of the old wiring was never actually replaced. The work that was done was largely cosmetic.
They were bilked. The place has been a firetrap for years.”

  Magnus stared. “You’re telling me the fire was a coincidence?”

  “Basically, yes.”

  “What about the assassin?”

  “He’s not talking, but we’re fairly certain he meant to make his attempt on the ship during the pyrotechnics and get away underwater. He might have succeeded if we hadn’t gotten Dear Papa to agree to botching the effects. The police found an emergency oxygen cylinder in his pocket. It would have bought him fifteen minutes’ time, enough to get to a waiting boat.”

  “That could have been intended to prevent smoke inhalation.”

  Henry shook his head. “It’s a model designed specifically for underwater emergencies. It’s not fire-safe.”

  “And how the hell did he get on that ship?”

  He took a deep breath. “Ah… it appears he incapacitated one of the actors earlier in the day and took his place using a forged ID.”

  “And no one noticed?”

  “No.” Henry looked more ill. “We checked IDs, but we didn’t cross-reference them against the original photos in the dossier. Due to the last-minute changes, the other performers simply assumed he was part of the security team.”

  “I see.” Magnus was quiet for a moment. No one in the conference room made a sound. “Henceforth, all venues will be inspected by a qualified electrical engineer contracted by Global Security. All identity checks will include visual cross-referencing.” He waved one hand. “You are dismissed.”

  Several dozen men and women rose and hurried gratefully for the door.

  “Ms. Herrera!” Magnus called. “I’d like you and Ms. Mendez to stay.”

  Pilar glanced at Loup, who shrugged.

  “I expect you’ve some idea what this is about,” he said to them when everyone had left, save for Sabine standing sentinel behind him.

  “Is it because I didn’t shoot to kill?” Pilar winced. “I choked, I know.”

  “No, no.”

  “Is it the swearing?” Loup asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to swear at the kid. Oh, and the other guests. I just forgot in the heat of the moment, you know?”

  “No one mentioned the swearing.” Magnus looked bemused. “No. Loup, Pilar… against all odds, your performances were the only bright spot in this godforsaken catastrophe.” His mouth twisted. “It’s the only reason Hugh Danielson isn’t suing us yet.” He beckoned to Sabine, who laid a briefcase on the table and opened it. “He wishes to buy out your contracts and assign you as full-time bodyguards to his daughter.”