“A gift,” I said, looking down at the shameless dog as I opened the door to my office. “Supposed to help with office security, but I’m having my doubts.”
“He’s amazing. What’s his name?”
“Peaches,” I said with a straight face. I could tell she was avoiding the Colin topic.
“You’re serious? It’s not Rex or Midnight or something overly macho like Brutus?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Peaches. Want to share why they were so intent on giving you a barbeque? How did they get in, anyway?”
“That was my fault. I let them in. I didn’t know Colin had joined the hit squad—he’s my brother,” she said after a pause. “They’re after me because I’m allergic.”
“I’ve never heard of allergies being a capital offense in vampire clans,” I said as I walked over to the sidewall. “Then again I’ve never heard of allergic vampires. What are you allergic to?”
She remained silent as she rubbed Peaches some more. I placed my hand on a section of the wall and a panel slid back, revealing a large strongbox. I pulled it out and placed it on the desk next to the wall.
“I’m allergic to blood,” she said.
“You’re what? How can you be allergic to blood? You’re a vampire. Wait, you can’t drink any blood?”
She stood and I noted the defiant stance.
“I just am, okay? I can only drink AB-negative blood which is like one percent of the population.”
Then it clicked. “The blood bank. They were getting a delivery of AB-negative.”
She nodded. “I knew they were getting a shipment, I just didn’t know they would be waiting for me,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I hadn’t fed in days.”
“So you’ve been shunned because you can only feed on AB-negative. Makes no sense. It’s still blood and you’re still a vampire.”
“Vampire clans are pretty big on rules,” she said. “My parents are okay with it, but the elders saw me as a threat to the clan and shunned me.”
I put my hands on the strongbox and took a few deep breaths.
“Hey, where’s Tristan?” she asked, looking around. “Is he coming?”
“Tristan—is in trouble,” I said. “Someone—something— dangerous took him and I’m going to get him back.”
“Alone?” she asked. “Can I help?”
“I’m working on that part,” I said and looked down at the strongbox. “Don’t think you can come with me. If something happened to you, Chi would do her best to kill me—repeatedly.”
“Are you two a couple or something?” she asked and blushed. “I mean, I can tell you have feelings for her.”
“It’s something, all right,” I said with a tight smile, “just don’t know what.”
“What’s in the box?”
“A way to get help,” I said and opened it.
TWENTY-SIX
MONTY ALWAYS BELIEVED in preparation. He always said a prepared mage is an effective mage. I looked down into the rune-covered, lead-lined strongbox and exhaled. Black wisps of smoke floated up from inside.
I focused and began removing the contents. Inside the box were several magazines of ammunition for the Grim Whisper. Grenades covered in runes sat next to the ammo.
“That looks dangerous,” she said. “That smoke isn’t helping, either.”
“These are entropy rounds,” I said, removing the magazines carefully. “Monty made them for me in case I came up against something I couldn’t handle, or he was—”
“Dead?” she finished.
I nodded. “He made these powerful enough to stop a renegade sorcerer or mage.”
“Did he mean himself? Was this in case he went out of control?”
“If you had asked me that last week, I would have said no. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Does a sorcerer have Tristan?”
“No, something worse—something stronger. A god who wants to destroy everything.”
“Shit,” she said. “This is bad.”
I began filling my pockets with the extra magazines. I grabbed the runed grenades and put them in another pocket.
“Is that going to be enough?”
“I don’t know if they will work on a god,” I said. “But I have one more thing I think will work.”
“You don’t have a rocket launcher or something like that?”
“It’s on my to-do list right after getting back alive,” I said. “Sunrise is in a few hours. I need you to stay here with Peaches and keep the office secure.”
I put the strongbox back and sealed the wall. I grabbed the laptop from my desk and headed to the kitchen to grab something quick to eat because facing an insane god on an empty stomach is just bad policy. I needed to get Charon out of the detention center, but first I was going to need more firepower.
I headed for the door after eating a few sandwiches, and Peaches walked up to me. I rubbed his ears as he sat on his haunches and looked up at me.
“Stay here with Georgianna and keep the place secure, boy,” I said, not knowing how much he understood. He barked and walked over to stand next to Georgianna.
“If I don’t come back—” I started.
“You’ll be back,” she said as she rubbed Peaches. “Make sure you bring Tristan back too.”
“That’s the plan,” I said and headed out. I heard her lock and secure the door as I took the stairs down. I pulled out my phone and called The Hack.
The call took a few moments as it bounced across several sites and then piggybacked on another line in a backhaul. From there it jumped to a T3 line and rerouted the call, repeating the process several times. Hack tried to explain it to me one time. All I got was that it made it impossible to trace the call.
He picked up after a long silence.
“Simon, situation is getting critical,” he said. “MoMA got sliced and One New York Plaza got flamed. You in the loop on this?”
Half the time I barely grasped what he was saying but fortunately for me he occasionally would translate into English I understood.
“Go light on the hackspeech. I need schematics to the New York Detention Center on 1st Avenue between 37th and 38th Streets,” I said. “Specifically, points of egress that would allow me to get in undetected.”
I heard the typing of keys as I descended the stairs into the lobby. Andrei stood by the entrance with a concerned look on his face. I guessed he was still rattled by Peaches’ entrance. I gave him a quick nod, stepped outside, into the Purple Goat, when The Hack got back on the line.
“Hard way or easy way?” he said.
“Easy way,” I said. “Preferably one that avoids magic-users and security on site.”
“Easy way is to sneak in with food staff on the shift rotation at six a.m.,” he replied. “Get in through loading to the kitchen. Less security at that time. Schematics and schedule rotation sent to your laptop.”
I opened my laptop and placed it next to me on the passenger seat. After several clicks, I was looking at a cross section of the detention center complete with a schedule and personnel list. I would have to enter from the back on the 38th Street side through one of the loading docks.
“I can manage that. Can you check if they have any prisoners they are trying to hide? Something off-grid but high-level.”
“A prisoner they want to keep as a mirage? One sec.”
More keys clicking and some low whistling.
“What’d you find?” I asked. “And where?”
“Sub-level four, northwest block, cell seven,” he said with a hint of admiration. “You’ll need an elite strike unit, with loads and loads of ammo. You may also want a sorcerer or two. Just for insurance.”
“That bad?” I asked and winced. “Any idea who they have in that cell? Did you say sub-level four? Since when?”
“Yep, the bowels of the beast. Not drawn on any schematics, means an unofficial site,” he said. “Prisoner is unregistered, but high-level enough to rotate two sorcerers and a squad of commandos of
f normal duty and assign them there. You going solo?”
“I have to—Monty is MIA and the only one who can help me I’m hoping is in that cell.”
“You’re my new hero,” he said. “It looks suicidal, but that’s your forte. Anything else? This connection is getting hot.”
“That’s it, thanks for everything, Hack,” I said. “Don’t know if this is a roundtrip.”
“I hear you. If not, I’ll meet you on the other side. Remember it’s all tombyards and butterflies.” He had hung up before I could ask him what he meant. Typical hackspeech.
I was reasonably certain I could get into the detention center. Getting out was another thing entirely. I had one more call to make, and if he didn’t agree, Monty was as good as dead.
I dialed Ramirez.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“YOU WANT WHAT?” he yelled. “Are you out of your mind? And you’re going to do what?”
“I need to use the negation rune to defeat Chaos,” I said.
“No, no, the other part, where you break into the detention center—break into it—and free a prisoner from sub-level four. I didn’t even know they had a sub-level four, Simon.”
“Me either, but I’m guessing that’s where the Ferryman is being held.”
“You’re guessing? You don’t have positive ID on the prisoner in this cell?”
“How do you think I should go about getting that, Ramirez? The level doesn’t officially exist. Should I just go ask them if I can peek in the cell?”
“Shit, why are you telling me this? You know I can’t help you,” he said. “You’re putting your hand in a blender and expecting it to leave you with all your fingers.”
“I need the rune. Once I get out—”
“If you get out,” he said. “This is suicide.”
“Once I get out, I have to get Monty. He knows how to use the rune.”
“Get Monty? What do you mean get Monty? Where’s Tristan?”
“Chaos has him. And I’m going to get him back.”
“Fine, you’re going to do this—I’ll give you the rune on one condition: I come along. If you say no, kiss the rune goodbye.”
“Ramirez, you don’t know what we’re dealing with here. Chaos isn’t a rabid werewolf we can cuff,” I said. “Silver restraints aren’t going to work on him.”
“Tick-tock, Simon,” he replied. “Six a.m. shift change is coming soon and I can get you in easier with my credentials.”
“Goddammit, Ramirez,” I said, exasperated. “Meet me at the Center in twenty.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he said and hung up.
He was right about making it easier for me to get inside. It also meant it was easier to get him killed. Once I had the rune, I would find a way to make sure he was safe but out of the way.
I drove up the West Side Highway and cut across 34th Street until I was on 1st Avenue. I arrived at 38th Street in fifteen minutes and dialed Ramirez again.
“Where are you?” I asked when he picked up.
“Down the street. We can’t go in the front door even with my credentials. The kitchen idea is a good one.”
I drove down the block until I saw the NYTF cruiser. The only way it could have been more conspicuous is if he painted NYTF in neon orange on the side.
“Good thing you decided to come in under the radar,” I said as I walked over to his vehicle. “This doesn’t say NYTF at all.”
“Ha ha, hilarious. You and Tristan should go on the road.”
He walked to the rear, lifted the hatch of the cruiser, and I noticed two large duffel bags in rear seat. He pulled out one of them and handed me the other. Next to both of them sat the case holding the negation rune.
“Well, my regular car was sliced in two. You might remember it from your little visit to the museum,” he said. “I had to borrow this from the motor pool.”
I hefted the bag in my hand. “What’s in here?” I asked. The weight indicated weapons and an enormous amount of spare ammo.
“What do you think? You want to visit the unauthorized level of a maximum detention center. I’m not bringing sandwiches and soda.”
“About that—” I started.
“Hombre, don’t waste your breath. I’m coming with you,” he said. “You get the rune when we get back out here.”
“I think it would be better if you gave it to me now,” I said, looking at the case in the cruiser. “That way it will be safe.”
“Nice try,” he said. “As soon as I give it to you, I get left behind. You need help.”
“I don’t want to see you dead, Ramirez,” I said. “This is going to be a gauntlet. I know the NYTF deals with some insane shit, but take that and dial it to eleven. That’s what’s waiting for us. I don’t even know if this falls under your jurisdiction.”
“Doesn’t matter. They put a black site inside my city. I’m making it my jurisdiction.”
“These guys shoot first and ask questions later,” I said as we walked back to the Goat. “Later meaning never.”
“That’s why I came prepared,” he said, and tossed his bag at my feet. He went to the back of the cruiser, grabbed the rune case, and handed it to me.
“My guess is you don’t know how to use this. This is all that sorcery stuff Tristan does, right?”
“Ramirez,” I said, my voice tight, “don’t ever let him hear you call him a sorcerer—ever.”
“Sorry. What is he, really? A wizard?” he asked. “We don’t get debriefed on the levels of magic use in the NYTF, you know. Most of the guys just think Tristan is insane and dangerous.”
“Wizard? No, you’re thinking Chicago or St. Louis. Monty is a mage and yes, he’s dangerous. Probably a little insane too.”
“Which makes you just as unstable.”
“You already knew that,” I said, smiling.
“And he knows how to use this rune? I mean, really use it?”
I nodded. “That’s totally Monty,” I said. “I deal with bullets and blades.”
“That—I can understand,” he said. “Put the rune in your grape-mobile. I heard the locks on it. Sounds pretty secure.”
I took the case and put it in the trunk. It was almost as large as the trunk on the Phantom. I placed my hand on the handle and secured the Goat.
“It’s not a grape-mobile, it’s the Goat,” I said, running my hand along the side of it.
“Yeah, sure, they didn’t have another color?” he said, looking at his watch. “We have twenty minutes before the shift change. What’s the play?”
“We go in through the kitchen and make our way down to sub-level four,” I said. “Once there we have to head to the northwest block, cell seven.”
I showed him the schematic and he narrowed his eyes as he analyzed it.
“It looks like only one elevator goes down that far. No stairs. Where did you get these plans? This is a top secret document.”
“I think you’re overreacting. How do you know it’s top secret?” I said.
“The words ‘Top Secret’ across the top are not a suggestion,” he answered, pointing at the screen. “You need to delete this file.”
“It auto-erases in a few minutes,” I said, closing the laptop. “You have the route?”
He nodded. “The elevator is going to be a problem. Most likely has some kind of security pass.”
“Even guys on sub-level four have to eat,” I said, putting the laptop in the Goat and locking the door. “Someone on staff has to have access.”
We walked up the street to the rear of the detention center. The imposing gray building covered over half the block. Its darker color gave the impression of being in shadow to the hospital, which was constructed using white brick. It stood fifteen stories, the same as the hospital wing, but with an extra dose of ominous.
“I thought these buildings were connected?” Ramirez asked, looking up. “Would make our lives easier if we could go in through the hospital wing.”
“When they first designed this pl
ace, they were. It was a good idea—at first. Then a sorcerer broke out of the detention center and made it to the hospital wing.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“It was a nightmare. He managed to get to pediatrics before they dropped him.”
“Shit,” Ramirez said, shaking his head with a hiss. “He went after the kids?”
I nodded. “Ever since then they destroyed any connecting passages to maintain security. Over there,” I said and pointed to the growing crowd entering the building.
We walked into the loading dock and joined the shift change going into the kitchen. When we got to the security checkpoint, Ramirez handed him his badge and spoke to the officer on duty. I read the name Gregory on his badge.
Tall, about two-hundred and fifty pounds, he looked like he hit the gym regularly and punished the weights while there. His blue eyes were sharp and darted over us quickly. They lingered over the bags for a few seconds before returning to the credentials in his hands. Everything about him screamed ex-military. It only meant the detention center took their security seriously.
“We need to check on one of the inmates,” Ramirez said, putting his wallet away and handing me mine. “Sub-level two.”
“At six a.m.?” Gregory asked, looking unconvinced. “Isn’t that a little early for an inspection, sir?”
“Brass is busting my ass about this,” Ramirez answered with a rueful grin. “They aren’t supposed to know we’re coming. You want to call it in?”
“Which means more paperwork for me at the end of shift—no thanks,” Gregory said. “You know where you’re going or do I need to call you an escort?”
“We got it, thanks,” Ramirez answered, picking up his bag. “Those elevators over there should lead us to sub-level two.”
“Last bank on the left,” Gregory said, pointing.
The morning shift had finished checking in, leaving just us two at the security checkpoint. Everyone was headed to their respective stations. We made to follow them in when Officer Gregory cleared his throat.
“What’s in the bags?” he asked, resting a hand on the holster at his side. “I’m going to need to see what’s in them—. Sorry, sir, regulations.”
Montague & Strong Detective Novels Box Set: Montague & Strong Detective Novels Books, 1 through 3 (Montague & Strong Case Files) Page 16