The Long Way Down (Daniel Faust #1)(49)
“Impossible. Flatly impossible. Prince Sitri has held that throne since the dawn of the Byzantine Empire. There’s no scheme he hasn’t seen coming from decades away. It’s been rumored that half of the plots against him were started by him, just for his personal amusement.”
“Yeah, well, Nicky seems to think he’s got a good shot, and selling you to the Kaufman brothers was part of the plan.”
“Choir of Pride,” Caitlin seethed. “Insufferable. Every last bloody one of them. Where’s the seer? Is he with you? Bring him to me.”
“The twins got to him first. With a sniper rifle.”
“Are you all right?” she said, suddenly alarmed. “Did they hurt you?”
“No. They made sure I knew they could have, though. Nicky doesn’t want a war on his hands. He’ll find a plausibly deniable way to kill me. They just wanted the seer taken out before he could spill the beans.”
“Khlegota! No chance of intercepting the seer’s soul, either. I guarantee they had someone waiting on the other side for him.”
“You can do that?” I asked. Admittedly, the afterlife is something I try to spend very little time thinking about.
“Right now, that man is likely chained to the floor of a very deep, very dark, very unpleasant pit, where he can’t tell anyone what he knows. I’m sure they’ve taken his mouth as well.”
Something about the casual way she said that, like it was business as usual, sent shivers down my spine.
“At least we know we’re on the right track,” she said. “Nicky’s guilty. He’ll pay in good time. And pay dearly.”
I leaned on the gas, shooting through a yellow light and weaving around a gas truck.
“There’s more,” I said. “The inner circle over at Carmichael-Sterling has their own game. They’re going after a friend of mine tonight, a fence named Spengler. I’m on my way to stop them.”
“Do you need help?”
Yes, I thought, but they’ve still got the magic that made you Kaufman’s thrall the first time around, and I’m not putting you through that again.
“I’ve got this,” I told her, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “This all ends tonight. We send these out-of-towners running back to Seattle with their tails between their legs. Then we can focus on putting the screws to Nicky. Easy as that.”
Nothing was ever that easy.
? ? ?
Spengler lived in a McMansion at the end of a sleepy suburban street, every house the same shade of forgettable beige. I always figured he’d go for something as big and ostentatious as his personality, but I guess when your job risks landing you on more Interpol watch lists than your average terrorist, you learn the value of camouflage.
I pulled in behind his BMW and jumped out, running to his front door. I leaned on the doorbell, listening to it hammer out a staccato chime inside, wondering if I should chance picking the lock. If I was too late…
The lock clicked. Spengler pulled the door open, the big man draped in a black silk kimono spattered with white flower patterns.
“All right, all right already!” he said. “Oh, hey, Dan. What’s up?”
“Do you not check your goddamned voicemail?” I said, shepherding him inside, shutting the door, locking it, and sliding the deadbolt tight. Spengler’s home was the kind of pristine you only get from hiring a cleaning service once a week. Art from the Renaissance masters decorated the walls. A few of the pieces were real, long missing from a smattering of museums across Europe. A better investment than gold, he always said.
“My phone’s charging, and I’m kinda getting ready for a date here. My sexy little Candi is coming over in about fifteen minutes, and I’ve got a sweet tooth, if you know what I mean.”
“Call her and cancel.”
He looked down at me, not sure how seriously to take my tone. “Dude, Candi’s two hundred dollars an hour, and if I cancel now I’m going to have to pay her anyway.”
“Spengler,” I said, “listen to me very carefully. There are people coming here, right now, to kill you. Now pick up your phone. Cancel. Your. Prostitute.”
While he called Candi, I tried to call the cavalry. I put out calls to Bentley and Corman, Mama Margaux, Jennifer, getting nothing but messages and busy signals. The idea of the two of us taking on a whole team of adept magicians at the same time didn’t fill me with hope. Plan B was taking Spengler and getting the hell out of here, but not without figuring out what Carmichael-Sterling was after. At the very least, I had to deny them their prize.
“You’d better be serious about this,” Spengler said, hanging up his phone. “Because I can’t be paying women and not having sex with them. It’s wrong. It’s wrong on so many levels.”
“Let me make a long story very short.” I cornered him, leaning in and talking slow. “A pack of magicians is coming over here to kill you and steal something from your collection. They’re determined, ruthless, and they’re responsible for several murders already, so don’t think for a second you’re going to talk them out of it. I need to know what you’ve acquired in the last month or so. It has to be something recent, or they would have come after you before tonight.”
He shook his head, looking worried as reality sank in. “Man, do they not know I’m protected? I’m the supplier to the stars, and I don’t just mean the occasional bump of Peruvian marching powder. Everybody knows I can get you your heart’s desire, so why would anyone kill the golden goose?”