One of Saul’s subcontractors met us at the Portland International Airport—not that it looked international, but I supposed the designation was true. The FAA doesn’t let you lie about things like that. We had a car and enough guns for Saul and Stefan to take on an army, so all was right with their world if not Godzilla’s. He was still biting the carrier’s cage bars. Air flight had not agreed with him. If ferrets were meant to fly, as Stefan had commented midflight, then I would let him throw Zilla out the window.
Before his man left, I asked Saul, “Could he take Godzilla? In case . . . just in case.” I dug through my backpack for our money and counted out a thousand. “And find him a good home if he has to?” I handed the guy the carrier and the thousand dollars.
The man looked at Saul and at the money and replied in a drawl that originated far from Oregon, “I don’t mind. Hell, my sister does animal rescue. Has a houseful of furry critters.”
“Give us at least a week to come back for him,” I warned, putting a finger through the bars to rub his small head. He promptly bit me and I smiled. It was two predators bonding, not a good-bye, because that was what I chose to believe.
Once again we were supplied with an SUV. I didn’t have anything against the environment, but when you hauled around as many weapons as Stefan and Saul needed to feel comfortable, you required a roomy vehicle. “I’ll drive,” Stefan said.
I claimed the passenger seat. Saul could sit in the back all but buckled into an infant’s car seat for once. “His sister rescues animals and he sells guns to anyone with the cash. People are strange,” I said, slamming the door behind me as Stefan began to navigate our way out of the airport parking garage.
“Says the genetic superman riding around with an ex-mobster brother and an international criminal mastermind,” Saul pointed out.
I didn’t know about the mastermind part, but the rest was true enough. It didn’t change the fact that people were strange. In our case I liked to think it was a good kind of strange.
It was an hour and a half from Portland to Cascade and in that time I told them my plan, which, compared to all the other plans I’d engineered in the past years, was beyond simple. We went to the bridge, I did my best to stop Wendy from killing us, we shot the chimeras with the tranq guns, everyone was cured, and we went back to another nice hotel. And if Raynor showed up, he could simultaneously distract the chimeras while we shot them, again with the tranq guns, and Stefan could beat him to a pulp afterward.
“Sad to say, that’s my plan too,” Stefan admitted. “But it’s a crappy plan. We’re on a bridge with no place to hide or set up an ambush, although since I imagine they’ll be waiting for us, that’s a point in our favor. At least they can’t ambush us either. If they were ordinary people, weak, puny, and not too bright like Saul and me”—he punched me casually in the arm—“I’d say our chances were good. Saul kicked ass in the military, I kicked ass on the streets, and you are the self-proclaimed Einstein of our times.”
“I’d say that’s an accurate description,” I agreed without a hint of a smirk, although I’d seen couples at night cross the street if they saw Stefan coming. Hell, I’d seen three or four men cross the street. Weak and puny he was not. He looked not like what he was all the time, but like what he was capable of being anytime—a wolf in human skin.
“A suicide run with a couple of smart-asses,” Saul mumbled. “I hate my life.”
Stefan continued. “But they’re not like Saul and me. They’re like you, Misha. They’re fast and strong and smart as fucking hell. And Peter has them doing whatever he says, which makes him something even more than them.”
“Except for Peter and maybe Wendy, they shouldn’t be as fast and strong as I am. That comes with maturity, and the rest of the chimeras are years younger than Peter.” Except one. “And Raynor is smart as well. In a different way and in this case it might be a better way,” I said. “We’re trained to take out targets, usually one—maybe two or three. We didn’t need to worry about defensive tactics, because no one would suspect us. Someone falls over because of a natural death and a cute sixteen-year-old waitress who was serving him dinner goes into hysterics. Who’s going to blame the waitress for a heart attack because her hand brushed his when she handed him his glass of water? No one. When Raynor kills people, chances are everyone in the area is going to know it and Raynor is vulnerable. He can be killed much more easily than a chimera. Don’t think he doesn’t know that and that he doesn’t value himself very highly.”
Stefan nodded. “I wondered if you’d see that. You know, then. Raynor won’t be coming alone.”