To her surprise and horror, Mom buried her face in her pillow and began to scream. “No! Not you! Why did it have to be you?”
Louise put a hand on her mother’s back as Donna, the head nurse, rushed into the room. “She’s fine. We’re just talking.”
Donna fixed Louise with a Glare. “You shouldn’t upset her. She’s very sick.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Mom had at least stopped screaming by the time the nurse left. Tears still streamed down her cheeks as she turned her head from the pillow. “I’m so sorry, baby. I never wanted this for you. I failed you.”
“Mom, don’t talk like that. You didn’t know what they could do.”
“Don’t patronize me! I’m not a child. You’re my child.” Louise braced for Mom to scream again, but she didn’t. Her voice regained its icy composure as she said, “I was supposed to protect the city, to protect you. I couldn’t. I’m too old. And you’re too young.”
“I’m the same age as when you started.”
“And I didn’t have to deal with nearly as much as you. There was only one Dragoon and he was far less powerful than these new ones. And she wasn’t around.”
“I’ll take care of it, Mom. I’ll find a way.”
Her mother sniffled; her tears finally ebbed. Louise wiped at them for her. Mom said, “You can’t be like me. Do you understand? She’s going to be ready for that. That’s what she’s prepared them for. You have to find your own way.”
“I will, Mom.”
“Just whatever you do, whatever she says, don’t give her the book. Even if she threatens to kill me, you can’t give it to her. Do you understand?”
“What’s so special about the book?”
Mom’s eyes fluttered to indicate she was fading again. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry you have to do this.”
Then Mom closed her eyes. Louise bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “I’m going to get them, Mom. For you,” she whispered.
Before that there was a lot of work to do.
Chapter 22
When Cecelia woke up the next morning, Sue waited with a box of donuts. “I got a bunch of different kinds. Not sure what you like.”
Cecelia didn’t like any kind of donuts; they were too fatty for her to eat in her profession. Still, she knew if she said that, Sue would be hurt or angry and at the moment Cecelia needed Sue’s friendship. “I’m not particular,” she said.
“Maybe we should ask the little guy what he wants.” Sue put her head down to Cecelia’s stomach, a gesture for which she would have killed anyone else. “He’s saying he wants a glazed, a cruller, and a sour cream.”
“I don’t think I can eat that much.”
“Sure you can.” Sue patted Cecelia’s stomach. “Don’t you want him to grow up big and strong? Like his mommy?”
“I suppose.” Sue had also brewed a pot of coffee; she poured a cup for Cecelia and served it to her in bed.
The donuts were still warm, which meant Sue had picked them up within the last few minutes. Sue let out an almost orgasmic groan as she bit into one. “The secret is to get in right after they fry up a batch. You don’t want no day-old shit. A cop taught me that.”
“One of your friends from the old days?”
“Can’t get anything by you. Mac wasn’t much of a cop. Crooked as hell. Try not to mention any of this stuff to your mom; she’ll think I’m a bad influence.”
“I’m sure she’d be glad you’re helping me.”
“Let’s hope.”
Cecelia ate all of the cruller and half of the glazed donut. Sue took the sour cream and put it back into the box. “I’ll give these to the landlady. Fat bitch might get someone to fix the hot water in the shower then.”
A cold shower was fine with Cecelia, who couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken any kind of shower. It must have been after her meeting with the Headmistress, back at the safe house. As for Maria, she did smell a little funky; she probably hadn’t taken any sort of bath since she’d left her farm—if then.
Sue waited for her outside the bathroom; she stood by the door like a bouncer, except that she wore only a bathrobe. Before Cecelia could toddle off, Sue took her arm. She pressed a five-dollar bill into Cecelia’s hand. “Get yourself a cab to take you to work,” Sue said.
“Aren’t you coming?”
“I’ve got to see an old friend. He might have some information.”
“Really? I didn’t think you would hear anything so soon.” In a time where a computer took up an entire gymnasium, she hadn’t expected Sue to find anything for days—if ever. She must really be connected, Cecelia thought.
“These guys owe me big.” Sue patted Cecelia’s arm. “Go and get to work and I’ll see you later when I’ve finished with them.”
“Thank you so much. And be careful.” Sue only nodded to her in response before she ducked into the bathroom. This left Cecelia to go back to the apartment to get herself ready. She dressed in a green dress Agnes Chiostro had given her. With any luck, Sue would have found something on Emma Earl so Cecelia could finish her job. If she were really lucky, Agnes Chiostro would arrange a meeting with Sylvia Joubert, so Cecelia could finish her other job as well.
She wanted to sing as she bounded down the steps to the sidewalk. To get a cab took some doing in the Trenches as most cabbies were leery to go into a poor neighborhood, where they were just as likely to be mugged as tipped. Still, it was better than the bus or a streetcar, especially without Sue to protect her.
The cabbie who finally pulled up was a black man who probably had been muscled out of the more prosperous neighborhoods. “Where you going?” he asked.
“Harmon-Farmer.”
“Girl like you shouldn’t be working.”
“Tell me about it. But we all have to do our part.”
“That’s true. I got a son over in the Pacific. Where’s your man at?”
“Europe. Eighth Air Force,” she said. She figured this would be much easier than to tell the cabbie she was an unwed mother and would probably never see the baby’s father again. That was if the baby’s father wasn’t her father. Cecelia hadn’t considered that angle before, but on a farm it was entirely possible. Or maybe one of Maria’s brothers. She shivered at these thoughts.
The cabbie stopped at the front gates of the factory and opened the door for her. “Good luck to all three of you,” he said. She made sure to give him a good tip in addition to the fare; he probably needed all the help he could get.
The old security guard from her first day glared at her as she walked past. She worried that without Sue to protect her, the old man might try something. He continued to watch her as she went inside; she broke into a stroll and whistled so he’d see she didn’t care.
Her whistling ended when she stopped in front of her locker. Someone had taken a can of green paint used for the bombers to write “WHORE” across the front of her locker. Her hand shook as she opened the door to find the vandal hadn’t stopped there. She had written “WHORE” in smaller letters on the inside of the door and for good measure on the back of Cecelia’s work shirt.
She dropped onto the row of benches between the lockers, to stare at her vandalized belongings. There was little question in her mind that Gert had done this; she doubted the old guard had the figurative stomach for such an operation. In her own body Cecelia would have pulled out a dagger, knifed the bitch, and not looked back. As Maria, she blubbered into a handkerchief and wished Sue were here to give her a hug.
“I don’t need anyone,” she whispered. As in Malloy’s the night before, she tried to give herself a pep talk by reminding herself she was still a deadly assassin. Even if she didn’t have the muscles or the weapons, it didn’t matter. What mattered in this business was the will to do what needed to be done.
At least Gert hadn’t written on the inside of her shirt, so Cecelia could turn it inside-out to keep the paint hidden. She waddled out onto the factory floor. The good thing about an aircraft factor
y was there were plenty of weapons around. As she passed by a workstation, she took a heavy wrench off the table. This she tucked inside her shirt for easy access.
Then she went to find Gert and settle the score.
***
As an assassin, surprise was always the greatest asset. Whether she was crouched in a building with a rifle or meeting someone face-to-face, Cecelia always used surprise to her advantage. A bullet fired from cover or a subtle dagger in the chest, it didn’t matter. The point was to catch the quarry unguarded, do the job, and escape.
The problem for this personal job was it would be almost impossible to employ surprise in most traditional forms. She didn’t have a rifle or a perch where she could wait for Gert. With her pregnant stomach she couldn’t really disguise herself either. There was another form of surprise she could rely on: Gert didn’t think Maria Costopolous tough enough to conceal a wrench in her shirt.
As Cecelia approached, Gert made the same mistake Cecelia had made with Emma Earl—she couldn’t resist the urge to gloat. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” Gert said. “I thought maybe you’d decided to take a little vacation.”
“I wanted to apologize,” Cecelia said. She tried to sound as meek as possible. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’d still like us to be friends.”
“I’m not friends with whores.”
As in Agnes Chiostro’s house, Cecelia began to cry. She turned around and bent over as if she were sobbing. In reality she slipped her hand into her shirt for the wrench. This time she wouldn’t make the mistake of gloating; she spun around with the wrench raised.
The wrench hit Gert squarely in her smug face. Since Maria had only these scrawny chicken wings, Cecelia didn’t get all she wanted into the swing. Still, she saw blood spray from Gert’s nose and heard the crack of cartilage. Gert hunched over and put both hands to her face. Cecelia brought the wrench back around onto Gert’s neck.
“Who’s the whore now?” Cecelia screamed. She looked around the factory to challenge the others. They stared back at her; one woman turned to throw up into a landing gear assembly. “You pussies! I’m just one little pregnant woman. Don’t any of you have the stones to take me on?”
Something heavy touched her shoulder. She spun around and saw Mr. Dugan had touched her with his wooden hand. “Maria, I think we’d better go to my office,” he said. “Come with me, please.”
“What, you’re going to fire me? Is that it? Want to do it somewhere private?”
“Maria—”
“What about her? Did you see what she did to my locker? To my clothes?” She tightened her grip on the wrench; she wanted to give Gert a few more good licks with it. At least the woman had enough sense to stay down on the floor, on her knees while her coworkers attempted to staunch the bleeding with a towel.
“She’ll be dealt with appropriately,” Dugan said. “In the meantime, I need you to put down the wrench.” Dugan had been joined by two security guards, older men with .45 pistols that wouldn’t have posed a threat for her in her own body. She doubted she could take them both out with the wrench before one of them fired and from this close not even a couple of old duffers could miss.
She couldn’t bring herself to put down the weapon, though. She already knew what would happen: she would be canned while Gert would get a warning and maybe some kind of probation. After all, Gert was a war widow while Maria Costopolous was some knocked up peasant girl with dark skin. That was how these things worked.
The standoff ended when she heard Sue bellow, “What the hell is going on here? I take an hour off and everyone starts goldbricking!” Sue pushed her way through the crowd of workers and security guards until she faced Cecelia, who still stood over Gert with the wrench. “What the fuck is this?”
Cecelia didn’t pretend this time when she dropped the wrench and threw herself into Sue’s arms. Sue patted her back and stroked her hair as if Cecelia were still a child. “It’s going to be all right, kid. Come on.”
Things went as she expected—at least at first. She sat across from Dugan, who shook his head sadly while he lit a cigarette. “Gert’s going to be fine in a few days. I’m docking her wages while she’s off.” He took a puff on the cigarette and then shook his head again. “I’m afraid I have to let you go, Maria. What Gert did was wrong, but we can’t have employees bludgeoning each other with tools. I’m sorry.”
“You’re firing her and keeping Gert?” Sue said. She bolted out of the chair and leaned forward as if she wanted to hit Dugan. “Gert’s been giving her shit right from the start. She had this coming.”
“Come on, Sue, she broke Gert’s nose! I can’t overlook that. There are going to be incident reports, hospital reports, and maybe even police reports if she wants to press charges. We can’t sweep this one under the rug because she’s your pet project.”
“You keep Gert and you’re looking for a new foreman.”
“Sue, be reasonable. Gert’s a good worker. And a widow. You want me to just throw her out on the street?”
“You’re throwing Maria out onto the street.”
“She attacked Gert with a wrench. She’ll be lucky if she isn’t giving birth in jail.”
“I’m serious. You keep Gert and I’m walking.”
Dugan threw up his good hand. “Fine! She’s gone too. Good riddance. I got enough bullshit going on here without workers starting brawls.”
It wasn’t until they were back at the flat that Cecelia said, “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” Sue snapped. “Gert had it coming.”
“I’m sorry I put you in this position. You’ve been so kind to me.”
“Yeah, well, I think you’d better find yourself a motel tonight.” Sue reached into her pocket for two twenty-dollar bills. “That should cover what they owe you. I’ll go down and get a cab.”
Cecelia knew no amount of tears—real or fake—would turn things around this time. She could tell from the sadness on Sue’s face that the older woman wasn’t angry with her so much as disappointed in her. Sue had stuck her neck out for Cecelia, had believed in her, and Cecelia had made Sue look like an idiot to Dugan and everyone else.
“You’re right,” Cecelia said. “I should go. Before I do, I just want you to know how much I appreciate what you did for me. Not many others would have shown me such kindness.”
Sue nodded and then reached into her pocket for a scrap of paper. “Here, I got a lead on that girl you’re looking for. Name’s Emily Cabot. Young girl, tall, red hair, showed up at the bus station a few days ago.”
Something about the name seemed familiar to Cecelia. Then she recognized the surname as that of Earl’s mother. In this case Emily Cabot was probably Emma Earl’s maternal grandmother. Could Earl have wound up in her grandmother’s body? Or was it a coincidence? The address Sue gave to her wasn’t more than a few miles from here. “Thank you so much.” She tried to hug Sue, but the older woman pushed her back.
“I’m going down to get that cab.”
Cecelia didn’t have much to pack, just her suitcase, into which she stuffed the dresses Agnes Chiostro had given her. She supposed her move would present a problem on that front; she would have to let Chiostro know her new address. With her suitcase packed, she went downstairs to find a cab waited for her.
“Good luck,” Sue said.
“You too.” They shook hands and then Sue helped Cecelia into the cab. “Find me a motel. A cheap one,” she told the driver. She turned to see Sue on the sidewalk; the old woman watched her go with tears in her eyes.
Chapter 23
It didn’t come as much of a surprise that Dan wanted to leave Louise the house and the bulk of his estate—his collection of Egyptian artifacts he wanted donated to the Plaine Museum, which could do as it pleased with them. Nor did it come as a surprise to Louise when Dan’s cousins immediately protested the will. One, before her lawyer could silence her, shouted, “This child isn’t even related to him!”
Louise’s tra
ining didn’t give her much insight into the law, not enough to know if the will would hold up. She didn’t really care in any case. She didn’t want Dan’s house or his money. What she wanted was justice for him. That couldn’t be obtained in this courtroom; she would have to get it tonight when she tracked down Isis’s minions.
While the legal wrangling continued, Louise jotted notes on a legal pad. Not notes about the case, but about how she would go after these Black Dragoons Marlin had warned her about. Her mother was right that Isis had designed the Dragoons to fight Emma Earl’s Scarlet Knight; therefore she would have to give them some things they hadn’t seen before.
If she had the budget of a Bruce Wayne or the government support of a James Bond, her ideas would be easy to carry out. Instead, she would have to rely on a janitor at Rampart State University. While the lawyers continued to blather, Louise sketched out exactly what she would need Tim Cooper to help her with.
The legal proceedings ended around three o’clock with more hearings scheduled to evaluate the various claims made by Dan’s relatives. Louise turned to her lawyer, who had been Dan’s lawyer. “Give them whatever they want. I don’t care.”
“Dr. Earl—”
“The money isn’t important to me,” she said, although a little money would probably help her in this case.
Once she was out of court, she called Tim, who as usual didn’t answer until the tenth ring. “Hi, Lou,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“Mom needs your help.”
“I heard that she’s in the hospital. How is she?”
“Bad. Real bad. But that’s not the reason I’m calling. I need to see you.”
“Sure, come on over.” It didn’t surprise her to find he was in one of the spare labs at the school, the only place that would still let him tinker. As part of his parole for the RAT Bombings, the judge ordered that Tim could not work in any official capacity in mechanical engineering. Mom, who had testified on his behalf to the parole board, arranged the job at her old school. So long as Tim didn’t do any official mechanical engineering, he was safe.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis Page 90