War Song (The Rift Chronicles Book 2)

by BR Kingsolver

  “Hold it! Hands in the air!” I called, pointing my gun at the man. “Let go of the girl!”

  Carmelita then showed her police training. She stomped hard on the man’s foot, twisted away from him, and threw herself to the floor, giving me a clear line of fire.

  The big man turned and ran into the next room.

  “Go!” Carmelita said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her draw her pistol. “I’ll take Carl.”

  I launched myself after the man and at the same time heard a door at the back of the house crash open.

  “Halt!” Novak shouted, followed by the sound of his pistol firing.

  I raced through the house into the kitchen to find Novak standing over the man, who was lying on the floor. One of his legs was ruined, almost blown off at the knee.

  I skidded to a stop, holstered my pistol, and reached into a belt pouch for a first aid kit. Pulling a tourniquet out, I knelt down and placed it on the man’s leg, then tightened it until the flow of blood slowed.

  As soon as I finished, I said, “Call Whittaker. Tell him we need an ambulance, and tell them to keep things quiet. I’m going to go help Carmelita.”

  Drawing my sidearm, I went back through the house and up the stairs. I found Carmelita in a bedroom putting handcuffs on Carl Beaver.

  Whittaker showed up with what I always called a ‘stealth ambulance,’ not that it wouldn’t attract attention. I’d tried to tell him before that his ‘not officially an ambulance’ looked like a hearse, but he hadn’t listened.

  We didn’t find any identification we could trust on the wounded guy. None of the three IDs he carried were legitimate, so we didn’t even know his name. I sent his fingerprints to the station, but he didn’t turn up in the worldwide database. Very curious.

  They hauled him off to the hospital, and while Novak and Carmelita interrogated Carl Beaver, I took a look around his bedroom and his basement workshop. I had been correct that he had a magitek security system installed. I wondered if his parents, who were obviously supporting him, knew how much their security system was worth.

  When I had hacked his academic record at the university, I found that he was an average student, and none of his professors seemed impressed with his magikal ability. The contents of his workshop belied that assessment. He had three cloaking devices, each of which would sell on the black market for my yearly salary. Not an easy device to create, and the spells required not only power but also finesse.

  There were at least a dozen electromagikal devices that performed different functions, and a couple of listening devices. Stick the listening device on the outside of a window, and the mage controlling it could hear anything inside the house from a couple of blocks away.

  Then there was the experimental rocket launcher. That one alone was enough to win him a sentence to the arcane prison in Gettysburg for five to ten years. Magiteks weren’t supposed to play with explosives. For Mary Sue and me to manufacture such things for Findlay, we needed to get a special license, courtesy of Olivia, and put strict security procedures in place.

  But the crowning glory was a box about the size of a soccer ball. I knew what it was as soon as I touched it. An enhancer such as that was probably used for the explosions that brought down the Palace of Commerce buildings in Baltimore and Prague. If the Magi suspected that Carl was in any way connected to those two bombings, his future home would be in Antarctica, not Gettysburg.

  I pocketed several of the devices, including a cloaking device, and bagged the rest for evidence. All the explosive stuff went to the police station. Even a magitek who was a cop was barred from touching those.

  Chapter 13

  “What are we going to do with Susan Reed and the rest of this HLA cell?” I asked Whittaker. Novak, Domingo, and I were debriefing in his office along with Lieutenant Luis Cappellino, leader of the HLA task force, who I knew was related to both the Whittaker and the Novak Families.

  Whittaker nodded to Carmelita, indicating she should answer.

  “We’re going to let them stew for a while. I think we have figured out who is responsible for the Carpenter and Greer murders. So, we’ll let the rest of Reed’s revolutionaries run around in a paranoid tizzy and hope they lead us to people higher up.”

  Cappellino spoke up. “Carl Beaver might have been responsible for the device used in Prague, but it doesn’t look as though he was the one who actually triggered the explosion. As best we can determine, he hasn’t been out of the Mid-Atlantic for at least three years, let alone to Europe recently. DNA tells us that the man Mychal shot is of Southern European descent, and it links him to some minor Families in Italy and the Balkans, but we can’t identify him. We did match his fingerprints to unknowns found at the Carpenter residence, so he was there.”

  “And that means I can clear the murders?” I asked.

  Whittaker nodded. “Go home. Write up your reports tomorrow. You two have been working your butts off this week.”

  He didn’t have to twist my arm.

  As we headed out the door, Mychal asked, “Do you know if Kirsten has any plans this evening?”

  I shrugged. “Not that I’m aware of. I’ve barely seen her this week. Why?”

  “I was thinking of calling her and asking her out to dinner.”

  I gave him a smile. “I’m willing to bet that she’ll say yes.”

  And sure enough, when I got home I found Kirsten freshly showered and putting on makeup.

  “Hot date?” I asked.

  “Mychal’s taking me out to dinner at the Belvedere.” The Belvedere Hotel was an ancient Baltimore landmark, and the restaurant in the penthouse was the priciest in town.

  “I guess I’ll have to find my own dinner, then.”

  Kirsten laughed. “Oh, that reminds me. Remember the guy you were dancing with at Lila’s ball?” She jumped up and grabbed her purse, rummaged around in it, and handed me a business card. “Aleksandr, right? I was at lunch with a vendor at Florio’s and ran into him. He wants you to call him.” She winked. “He said he neglected to get your number, what with the demon killing people and all that.”

  I read the card.

  Aleksandr Janik

  Senior Trade Representative

  Janik Enterprises

  North American Operations

  Aleksandr Janik. His Family was a member of the Hundred, from somewhere in Europe, and allied with the Novak Family. Yeah, I remembered him. Tall, dark, and definitely handsome. Wonderful dancer with intelligent banter. He had some sort of business dealings with my grandmother.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll call him, but not tonight. It’s been a rough week, and all I want is some peace and quiet.”

  After Mychal picked up Kirsten, I called a Chinese place and ordered takeout, then rode over and picked it up. When I got home, I kicked back, opened a bottle of wine, and watched an old vid while I ate. Then I took a long hot bath and went to bed. I had no idea whether Kirsten made it home or not.

  The following day, there weren’t any Magi murders, demons slaughtering tourists down at the Inner Harbor, or teenage magikers doing stupid things in public. So, Kirsten and I joined Mary Sue out at the Findlay estate to talk business with my grandmother. We went over the contracts Olivia presented, and they seemed fair.

  The corporation she set up was outside of the Findlay Family. Cerberus Corp. was an entity with one hundred shares of stock. Each of the principles got thirty-three shares, and Kirsten got one, a seat on the board of directors, and she was named chairman of the board. I was sure having the business named after the three-headed dog that guarded the gates of Hell contained a secret joke, but Olivia didn’t offer an explanation.

  Then we drove up to the port of Wilmington in Olivia’s limo, and she showed us the three buildings she had bought from Findlay and then sold to the new corporation for almost nothing. A small office building and two warehouses.

  “Findlay leased them to Akiyama and Moncrieff,” Olivia said. “Since they were involved in illegal activities, wh
ich violated their leases, we severed the leases, and the Magi Council confiscated the contents. The buildings are far enough away from other buildings and the port that we shouldn’t have to worry too much if there’s an occasional accident.”

  I felt my face warm. I had only blown up one small shed when I was learning to control my magik, but my grandmother had never forgotten it.

  I gave Mary Sue all my files containing the documentation and spells for the magitek devices I had invented or built from my father’s designs, and then we retired to a delightful little café overlooking the Bay for drinks and seafood.

  On our way back to Baltimore, I was feeling pretty good when my phone rang. One glance at the screen killed my good mood as surely as a bullet.

  “James,” I answered. I listened to the dispatcher, and when I hung up, I said, “Justus Benning was just assassinated. His wife is in the hospital. The dispatcher said we aren’t sure if the bomb was planted on their car, or if they drove over a mine set in the road.”

  Olivia gave the driver orders to speed up, and I spent the rest of the ride trying to access the police databases through my phone.

  I knew Justus Benning as the case I had just closed involved their missing daughter. Diana Benning—his second wife—was much younger than her husband, and they had two daughters.

  The search for Sarah Benning had uncovered a human trafficking ring involving vampires, demons, and at least two Hundred-level Families, plus the Akiyama Family—one of the Ten. Benning had made enemies, so I needed to consider the Akiyama and Moncrieff Families, including my Aunt Courtney, as well as the HLA, in any list of possible suspects.

  The Bennings had been riding in an armored limo with lead and trail armored vehicles. The detonation had lifted the limo off the road and flipped it over. Both the driver and the guardian riding in the front seat had been torn apart by the blast.

  “The bomb went off under the front of the car,” Novak told me as we walked around the destroyed limo. “The Bennings were in the back, at least partially sheltered from the force of the blast. They were traveling at a fairly high rate of speed, the car did a back flip, and the APC—the armored personnel carrier—behind them hit the limo. Killed the driver of that vehicle, too. The other guardians inside have all been transported to the hospital, and so has Diana Benning.”

  “So, Justus was killed, and Diana survived?” I asked.

  Kelley Quinn, the medical examiner, walked over and said, “It looks like the man died of a broken neck. I’ll have to do the autopsy to give you a definitive opinion, but take a look.”

  She led us over to the wreck. The bodies had yet to be moved, and Justus lay crumpled, head down, on the underside of the limo’s roof. His head was at a very unnatural angle.

  “You can see the blood on his clothes,” Kelley said. “None of the wounds bled very much, which leads me to believe he died very quickly. The woman landed on top of him, and her wounds were much bloodier. It didn’t look as though any of them were very severe. She may need some reconstruction, though. Her face was a mess. Neither of them was wearing a seat belt.”

  Diana Benning was a stunningly beautiful woman, but magikal healing meant that she probably wouldn’t have much in the way of scars.

  I turned back to Novak. “What does forensics have to say about the bomb? Magikally enhanced?”

  He shook his head and walked beyond the wreck to a crater in the road. “No magik detected, and from the crater, they think the bomb was planted in the road. The blast that made this hole was directed upward, not downward.”

  “Someone mined the road,” I said, and he nodded.

  I wasn’t a bomb expert, but considering that both front tires were still intact and attached to the limo, it appeared the bomb had gone off directly under the engine. The rear of the car was remarkably undamaged.

  “The car didn’t hit the mine,” I said. “So, either there was a trip plate on the road that the tires ran over, or it was set off by someone watching from the side of the road.”

  “Pretty tricky timing it exactly right,” Novak observed.

  “Not really,” Kevin Goodman, head of the forensics team, said as he joined us. “Set up a radio signal from a hand-held laser aimed across the road. When the car breaks the laser beam, it sets off the bomb. Taking into account the speed limit on this road, it’s a pretty simple calculation.”

  “Was traffic that light?” I asked. “How many cars—including the lead APC—might have broken the laser beam?”

  “That’s why I said hand-held,” Kevin replied. “Switch it on as soon as the APC passed.”

  “I’m assuming they were targeted,” I said to Novak. “Who knew they were driving this way today?”

  “I already started checking that,” he said. “They were going to an art gallery soirée, followed by dinner reservations at the Belvedere. This is on a direct route from their home to the gallery.” He shrugged. “I called the gallery, and they had two hundred confirmations in answer to their invitations. At least twenty employees of the gallery, the five artists and their entourages, the press, and the caterers knew who was coming.”

  “Well, let’s check whether any of those people have any connection whatsoever to the HLA.”

  Novak nodded. “Akiyama and Moncrieff weren’t too happy with Justus Benning,” he reminded me. The Novak and Benning Families were allied, so Mychal was clued into Family politics, grudges, and feuds.

  “Yeah, I know, but if this was a Family hit, it will be a miracle if we ever nail who was responsible. Let’s focus on the HLA for now.”

  Later, when I talked on the phone to my boss, I was a little more truthful about how I felt.

  “The HLA?” Whittaker asked. “Don’t you think that’s a strange coincidence?”

  “To be honest? Can you convince my Granduncle George to cut off Courtney’s access to a telephone? Limit her visitors? Do I think the vengeful bitch killed Justus Benning? Of course I do. Can we execute her without proving it? If so, I volunteer. She’s tried to kill me at least twice, so we could call it self-defense.”

  Silence on the line, then a deep sigh. “Yes, I guess going after the HLA is our best bet. Carry on, Lieutenant James.”

  Chapter 14

  The following morning, Carmelita and I showed up at Susan Reed’s home.

  “You’re an aeromancer, so you can shield yourself, right?” I asked Carmelita.

  “Yeah, sure. Stay close to me and I can shield you, too.”

  I shook my head. “If something goes down, shield yourself and don’t worry about me. Just cover my back and I’ll cover yours.”

  Susan answered the door looking a lot better than the first time I met her. In fact, she looked a lot like Carmelita did when she wore a Susan illusion.

  “We heard about the hit on the Bennings,” Carmelita-Dolores said. “We also heard that the cops busted some more HLA members.”

  “Where did you hear that?” Susan asked.

  I chuckled. “It’s not exactly a secret. Do you know a guy named Carl Beaver? Between him and Jurgen Schwartz, the Magi are getting a lot of information about the HLA. Do you mind if we come in?”

  She acted like she wanted to say no, but Carmelita started forward, and Susan backed up. The house was very nice inside, reflecting the way it looked from the outside. I had done some more research on Susan and discovered her parents had died in a car wreck a couple of years before. As an only child, she inherited the house and a large insurance payment. Since she didn’t have to work, that left her free to spend her time scheming with the HLA.

  It quickly became apparent that Susan wasn’t the only one in the house. From the foyer, I could see through the living room to a room beyond where several people sat around a large table. There were also noises of people moving around upstairs.

  “Freaking cop,” a man’s voice said from behind me as I moved farther into the house. “Freeze. Stay right where you are.”

  I did as he said, standing still and holding my hands awa
y from my body.

  “I’m not here as a cop,” I said.

  “Right,” the man said, “and I’m the Easter bunny. Frankie, search her.”

  A young man to my right started forward. I cast a spell, disabling every firearm within ten feet of me by locking their triggers. It made my own pistol inoperable as well, but I had my father’s lightning box in my pocket.

  “Frankie,” I said, batting my eyes at him and smiling, “touch me and I’ll break both your arms.”

  I heard a pistol cock behind me. Dropping into a crouch and whirling about, I swung my leg out and caught someone in the side of the knee. He lost his balance and fell, dropping his pistol, which clattered against the floor. I was on him before he finished falling, grabbing him by the hair, holding him up, and dragging him in front of me as a shield.

  I threw an arm bar across his throat, then drew my knife—a demon-hunter’s special with a brass knuckle grip and a foot-long Bowie-type blade.

  “We can be civilized, or not,” I said. “Your choice. We walk in here offering to help, and you pull a gun on me. Now, let’s make no mistake. I can take all of you out if I wanted to, or I could arrest all of you, if that’s what I intended. You couldn’t stop me. Yes, I’m a cop. Danica James, Hunter James’s granddaughter. And if you think I have any love of the Magi, you’re very mistaken.” I looked over at Susan. “Dolores said you folks are serious. Who’s in charge? I’m not in the mood to play games with a bunch of stupid kids.”

  The guy I was holding couldn’t have been much older than twenty-one, and he was having trouble growing his first beard. None of the people I saw were any older than Susan.