by Ann Aguirre
The plan was simple. Apex and crew would roll into the Silver Lady via the front doors. They’d start some low-level hassle: heckle dealers, mock the slot monkeys, maybe steal a few quarters. Eventually security would be dispatched to deal with them, at which point they’d do what they did best—run. Reyes had promised to bail out anybody who got caught. And while everybody was looking at the front doors, Kyra and Reyes would sneak in the back.
“Who’s your best at security?” she asked.
Apex smiled. “I guess that would be me.”
With a mental apology, she touched him lightly on the shoulder. “I should’ve guessed. Thanks for your help.”
It had been long enough since she’d used the ability that she felt it flaring through her now, new neurons firing. She could tell Apex had noticed the theft, but he didn’t know what to make of it. He frowned, glancing at where she’d touched him. Then he rubbed his shoulder, eyes narrowed.
Kyra jogged upstairs to get ready. Reyes made her wear one of her church-lady outfits, a pair of lime green double-knit polyester pants and a matching print blouse. For good measure, Kyra covered her freckles with foundation that make her skin look sun-damaged and orange. With her hair caught up in a barrette and a cheap pair of granny glasses, she hardly recognized herself.
“Damn.” Apex offered up a wolf whistle, gently mocking.
Since she’d stolen from him, she let it go with a wry smile. Reyes paid her no attention, giving their crew a last-minute briefing. At last they were ready to go.
“You’re crazy,” Apex said. “It’s gonna be hell getting up to the top floor, dude. But we’ll do what we can to give you the opening. I’m just glad you paid up front.”
Reyes laughed. “You wouldn’t work for me any other way.”
“Point. Let’s roll out.” He signaled to his boys and they took off.
“Just let me change.”
Kyra almost said she liked him the way he was—and then she remembered that she didn’t. Her heart hurt anew as she waited for him. She’d just gotten caught up in the excitement of planning their next move.
Within five minutes, he came downstairs wearing a sky blue leisure suit. He had on white shoes, a matching belt with enormous belt buckle, and he’d slicked his hair back with enough product to groom half of Manhattan. Somehow he’d managed to twist the leashed menace of his presence into a parody of itself; he’d become a joke.
“I’ll never ask you to do anything I won’t do myself.”
Kyra couldn’t help but laugh. “We look too goofy to be dangerous, is that it?”
“That’s the idea. If they find us wandering where we shouldn’t be, they won’t immediately be on guard. That’ll give us a few seconds to take care of business.”
She knew what he meant. Sober now, she nodded. Maybe she didn’t entirely like the idea of killing some unknown security guard, but she liked the idea of losing Mia even less. She’d do whatever it took to get her friend back.
Beyond this point, the plan was fluid. If they saw a chance, they’d take Serrano out, but they were hamstrung by not knowing where he’d stashed Mia. Reyes thought he had some failsafe in place—if the guards didn’t hear from Serrano at a certain time, they’d kill her and clean up the scene.
Therefore, the primary objective was to get into security and make copies of the logs. They could review them elsewhere, and possibly figure out which of Serrano’s men had taken her. At the least it might give them a direction to look, which was more than they had now.
“We need to make this fast. As of now, I can get us upstairs, but I don’t know—”
“How long it’ll last,” he finished. “Let’s go.”
And so Kyra returned to the Silver Lady. In the one move Serrano would never anticipate, because assholes like him valued self above friendship, she walked right in the front door. She knew where the security cameras were, but she didn’t look for them. Instead she feigned awe, gazing around at all the noise and flash. Serrano was like that, she thought, all sound and fury, signifying nothing. She couldn’t remember where she’d heard that line, a movie maybe.
From her peripheral vision, she spotted Apex. Reyes gave him the signal as they passed through the casino. All the players were in place, so it was show time.
They couldn’t be too direct in their approach to the doors at the back of the casino marked “private” but at the same time, they needed to be quick, or Kyra’s stolen skill might go poof. Reyes knew a little about security, but he was no Apex, and he wouldn’t want to bet their success on his rusty aptitude. It took all his self-control to lead them on a meandering path through the noisy casino.
He stopped twice to play the slots. Beside him, Kyra feigned an expression somewhere between disapproval and awe, as if she hadn’t seen this place a hundred times before. He could almost believe she was a tourist from Minnesota.
Bells rang; lights flashed. The Silver Lady was perfectly garish. Too much time in a place like this could drive a man mad, and Reyes longed for somewhere quiet, but he’d see this damn thing through. He owed Kyra that much.
On cue, Apex’s boys started some trouble. At first it was minor, and the security guys at the back of the room ignored it. Gradually, they escalated, and the guards had no choice but to move in. As soon as they did, Reyes took Kyra’s hand, towing her toward the double doors that led into the private part of the casino.
That went without a hitch. Without the burly guys in suits, the door opened freely, as employees just had to flash a badge to get through. Security would get tougher as they went deeper. Kyra was silent beside him, completely focused on the mission. They followed the beige and bisque corridor down to a set of metal doors.
Their first challenge came in the form of a keypad. Reyes glanced at her in silent inquiry, and was surprised when she answered. Nobody had ever been able to read him like she did.
“I can do this,” she said, already popping the panel to reroute the wires.
She worked for thirty seconds and then a spark lit up the display; the light flashed green. While he pushed the door open, she fit the cover back in place. It would withstand cursory scrutiny.
Inside the doors, he heard footfalls, more security. Fleet ingly he wondered what the hell Apex was doing out there. But he’d paid well for a distraction, and his boys loved the chance to cause trouble for a guy like Serrano. Kyra was already looking for somewhere to hide. She found it in the form of a locked room.
“I have no tools. Shit. Credit card!” she demanded.
He gave her his AmEx, and she worked the door as the sound of running amplified. Any second now, they’d round the corner and find them. The lock snapped open and he shoved her through, not much caring what waited on the other side. He didn’t want to fight this early in the game. If they started leaving bodies behind, it would get hard as hell to hide the fact they were coming. They’d find a small army waiting for them at the top. Plus, he objected on principle to killing guys who were just doing a job.
“Good work,” he said softly, listening to the reinforcements run past.
When he turned, he saw they were in a room full of banquet supplies. Dining room chairs, replacement tables, linens, glasses . . . anything the restaurants on premises might need to replenish their stock. That gave him pause.
Maybe—
“They’re gone. Should we roll out?”
Ignoring her, Reyes went over to some cardboard boxes, digging through. In the third one he checked, he hit pay dirt. He lifted a gray dress that looked about her size and tossed it at her. Finding something in his own size took more doing, but eventually he came up with a uniform that looked like it would work. Most likely some college athlete had worn it for a summer job. By the smell, these discards were none too clean, but they couldn’t afford to be picky.
“Change,” he said briefly.
She didn’t argue, merely turned her back and skinned out of her clothes. His mouth went dry at seeing her sexy red underwear emerge from the green
polyester nightmare he’d made her wear. Kyra scrambled into the maid outfit quicker than he got into the room-service uniform. He had the presence of mind to grab a tray and a silver dome from the shelving. If they could find her a cleaning cart, it would be even better. Nobody ever looked twice at janitorial staff. In fact, he’d used the ruse before, going where he wasn’t supposed to be to kill some scumbag quietly.
When they slid out of the supply room, the corridor was empty. The fluorescent light seemed too bright after the shadows, but he set off with confidence. That was key. Look like you belong, and people are less likely to question you. As they went toward the service elevator, four more security guards blasted by them, but nobody said a word. They had their orders about dealing with the asshole punks on the floor.
Kyra gave him a look that asked, It can’t be this easy, can it? Reyes shrugged, pushed the button for five, where she’d said security lay. Once, she’d had free run of this place, even a key to the executive express elevator. There was no point even thinking about that. Serrano was no fool; he would have had the controls changed as soon as he realized she’d played him.
The lift dinged, and the doors opened, revealing another hallway with more fluorescent lights and a few fake ficuses. They stepped out. Immediately to the left lay the security room with a full wall of constantly changing screens. On the right, there were a couple of small interview rooms, where they questioned people caught up to no good on Serrano’s property. Foster also had an office on this level.
Reyes checked the time. It was almost ten. He hadn’t thought to ask Kyra what hours Serrano worked, but maybe that would’ve changed after her defection. Was the son of a bitch up in his penthouse office even now, tormenting Mia? It would kill Kyra if anything happened to her friend, and whether he liked it or not, what hurt her, hurt him.
He didn’t much like it.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Go for it.”
She knocked.
One of the guards called through the door, “What?” He sounded bored and tired.
“I went in to clean the bathroom, and saw the toilet is overflowing into the hall. Should I call maintenance? I don’t usually work this floor.”
“Goddammit,” the guard swore. “You had to have burritos, didn’t you, Jackson?”
His partner made some unintelligible reply; Reyes heard the other guy laugh. Then the first man stepped out into the hall, and Reyes spun him headfirst into the wall. He didn’t want to kill the poor bastard, but there was no surefire way to knock somebody out, unless you lived in the Star Trek universe or maybe a ninja movie.
The second guard heard something in the minor scuffle that alarmed him and by sound of chair legs scraping, pushed to his feet. “Mike?”
Kyra asked in a worried tone, “Wow, are you okay? Can you walk?”
Genius. That’d make Jackson think Mike had fallen somehow, maybe slipped in the imaginary water. He came out unsuspecting, looking to help, and Reyes met him with an uppercut followed by a right cross. From the point they acted against security, the clock was running.
First he made sure both guys were out, then he slung the first one over his shoulder and headed for the interview room. They had no windows for obvious reasons, just cameras to record the sessions. Reyes dumped Mike, and then went back for Jackson, who was already stirring. He hadn’t been knocked out, merely dazed by the blow. With regret, Reyes hit him again before tossing him in with his buddy.
They needed to be quiet for a while. For good measure, he tied them with their own belts and gagged them with their own socks. Poor bastards. Jackson might remember to change his socks more often hereafter.
Kyra stood guard while he worked, bouncing with nervous energy. She had to know that every minute they remained increased their risk of discovery. The woman wasn’t one to panic, though. She led the way into the security room and went immediately to work with the systems.
Luck had favored them so far. Her ability held while she found the last month’s logs with a speed Apex might envy. Then again, it was his skill she was using, Reyes thought with a half smile. He marveled at the rarity of her while watching the hall, his turn to stand lookout.
“This is the whole month,” she said a few seconds later. “If Mia came to the casino, we’ll find out when, maybe who she talked to. I can burn it to a DVD and then we’ll get the hell out of here. I can’t see a way for us to get up to the penthouse tonight.”
“How enterprising,” a man said. “But you didn’t need to come in person, you know. Reyes has my number. We could’ve done business over the phone.”
Foster. Reyes would know that voice anywhere. But what the hell, he’d scanned that hall three seconds ago, and suddenly Foster was just . . . here. There was no cover. Nothing to hide behind. No shadows. Real people couldn’t do that.
“We didn’t want to insult you,” Kyra told him. “Why don’t you be a good lapdog and take us up to see your boss?” Reyes heard the bravado in her voice, the tremor she tried to hide.
“There’s no point,” Foster responded, cool as lemon ge lato. “He isn’t up there. You’re welcome to the surveillance footage, but you’d be bored, I’m afraid. So why don’t I save you the trouble? Mia came in. She talked to me. She left with me. Serrano trusts me to handle such things. But I’ll give you an address. In fact, I’ve been ordered to provide it. Serrano really wants to see you, Kyra.”
“What do you want?” Kyra wheeled from the station, hands curled into fists. Reyes wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d gone for the bastard with her bare hands, but Apex was a thinker, not a fighter.
“Many things,” Foster murmured. “And you, my dear, are going to make sure I get them.”
CHAPTER 28
Ten minutes later, after Foster had them escorted from the building, Kyra studied the address in her hand. “It’s a trap.”
“Get an ax.”
That surprised her into looking at him. They were standing on the sidewalk outside the Silver Lady, beneath the platinum neon bombshell curling her fingers in come-hither fashion. The light silvered his hair, raven wings frosted argent. “You’ve seen Army of Darkness?”
“Yeah. I love Bruce Campbell.”
It made sense she supposed. What else would a guy like Reyes do for relaxation, other than watch monsters get dismembered? Oh, and read Marquez, apparently. To her mind, he didn’t add up; the pieces didn’t fit.
“My dad did, too,” she said softly. “I always liked old movies better, but I watched my share of B movies with him.” Then she remembered she didn’t want to know anything else about him and made her tone businesslike. “It’s too bad I had to tap Apex to get us in there, but done is done. I’ll have to double dip and take the pain later.”
“I don’t want you doing that,” Reyes said immediately.
She curled her lip. “I don’t give a shit. Use your head. If we go in like this, I’m the weakest link. I can defend myself in most situations, but this place will be crawling with Serrano’s goons. I expect a bloodbath in getting to him, don’t you?”
“And we’ll have to cut a path through them,” he agreed. “All right, then. I have a stop to make before we go in. What do you suggest?”
“We’ll take care of your business first.”
It made sense to get everything done before she found a target, so the least amount of time elapsed before they reached the address Foster had given them. First they went back to the apartment, taking a bus because cabs were easier to follow. They couldn’t afford to get hung up by thugs who might not have the latest game plan. Though it took a little longer, and their mission was time-critical, Kyra knew she had to make this count. They wouldn’t get another chance to save Mia.
At the loft, Kyra changed into a pair of tight black workout pants. They’d offer the best range of motion for fighting, even if they didn’t offer anything in the way of protection. But she was fresh out of flexible body armor, so this would have to do. A black T-shirt and sneakers compl
eted the outfit. Boots would do more damage, but she wouldn’t be able to move as quickly.
With what she was planning, speed and reflex would come into play. While waiting for him—Reyes had gone to rummage around upstairs—she checked the phone book and then wrote down another address. They were almost ready. A few minutes later, he came back down apparently empty-handed.
“Got what you need?” she asked him.
He patted his jacket pocket. “Yeah, I’m good.”
They took the Marquis. From this point, there was no reason for subtlety. Serrano knew they were coming, and he wanted them to. Reyes gave her directions. The night was dark except for the neon everywhere. It gave everything a surreal painted air, as if they’d stepped into a modern art painting.
As it turned out, he needed to stop at a storage locker. It was a small place downtown set between a daily parking lot and a building that looked as though it ought to be condemned. Reyes had a key to the gate that led around back to a warehouse, and then he used a second key to unlock the padlock on a back unit. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but she found a bay full of junk: cardboard boxes, crates of dusty books, and even a dress-maker’s mannequin. It looked like he’d cleaned out somebody’s attic.
“What is all this stuff?” she asked.
“Camouflage.”
He ignored the rest and went directly to a brass-bound trunk across which he’d tossed a colorful knit afghan. Inside the trunk lay a bunch of pulp paperbacks from the thirties and forties. Reyes got out a penknife and slid it down the side, popping out a false bottom. From inside, he lifted out a black duffel bag, then he replaced the wood back in place and rearranged the books before closing the trunk and covering it again.
“Your weapons cache,” she guessed.
His smile came and went like a shadow. “I keep one in every town where I work. You never know when you’ll find yourself needing firepower.”