CHAPTER 10
“YOU DON’T HAVE MUCH,” TED SAID AFTER I HAD laid out my case.
“I’ve had the case for thirty-six hours.”
“Thirty-eight.” Ted leaned forward and glared at me with his lead eyes.
Ted had a fondness for Western clothing. Today he wore jeans, cowhide boots, and a turquoise shirt with black patches on the shoulders, each patch embroidered with a white Texas star. Ted Moynohan, channeling a cattle rustler at the prom.
Trouble was, the knight-protector ran about forty pounds too heavy for the outfit. Not exactly fat, but thick across the chest and carrying the beginnings of a gut, Ted had the build of an aging heavyweight boxer. He wouldn’t run up a staircase for fun, but if you slammed a door in his face, he would punch through it and knock you out with the same blow.
Despite the outfit, being on the receiving end of that stare was like peering into the mouth of a loaded .45 with the safety off. I wondered what he would do if I screamed and fainted.
His voice was low, almost lazy. “What is the Order’s primary directive?”
“To ensure the survival of the human race.”
He nodded. “We keep the order. We force monsters to coexist. We ensure peace. Forty-eight hours ago, this city functioned. As we sit here, the People are paranoid that someone has better undead than they do and is coming after their slice of the pie. The shapeshifters are pondering their own mortality and imagining their children dying of epidemics. The mercs are flailing because the Guild’s head has been chopped off. Biohazard wants to declare a citywide quarantine and PAD is shaking down every homeless person in a dirty cloak. The city is headed to hell in a hand basket. Do you know what happens when monsters, thugs, and cops get scared?”
I knew. “They stop playing nice.”
“We must restore order. We have to simmer Atlanta down at any cost, or it will boil over with panic and chaos. If I had a female knight more competent than you with better experience and a longer track record, I’d pull you off this petition and give it to her.”
What is Andrea, chopped liver? “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Assigning this petition to a man is out of the question. I have to rely on an Academy dropout with a discipline problem and a big mouth.”
I wanted to jump on the table and kick him in the mouth. “My heart bleeds in sympathy.”
Ted ignored me. “You have the full power of the Atlanta Chapter behind you. Fix this mess. What do you need to make it happen?”
The urge to pull off my ID and hand it to him was so strong, I had to fight not to touch the cord around my neck. Here, you deal with it. You try to run around with the weight of a possible pandemic riding you, you carry the responsibility for people dying, and I’ll sit back and tell you where you fall short. A year ago I might have done it. The memory of Ori’s crumpled body flashed before me. But then again, maybe not.
I squished my pride into a ball, sat on it, and plucked the lead case from the evidence box. “This is the parchment that stopped him before. I need to know what was written on it. I need to know what hurts him and who he is.”
“You need an expert.”
I nodded. “I want to take it to Saiman.”
“The polyform. He refuses to work with the Order.”
“He’s the best”—narcissistic pervert, sexual deviant, greedy hedonist—“expert in the city. We don’t have time to import anyone else and Savannah PAD has exhausted all the standard test possibilities. Given the proper financial incentive, I’m confident Saiman would work with me.”
“How confident?”
“Very confident.” He wants to get into my pants and I’ve been throwing his flowers away. He would be overjoyed if I called. “But he doesn’t come cheap.”
Ted wrote down something and put it in front of me: $100,000. It was an exorbitant sum, even for Saiman. “This is your limit. Call him. Now.”
He showed no signs of moving from my chair, making it crystal clear: he didn’t believe me.
I reached for the phone. Saiman answered on the second ring.
“Kate,” a familiar male voice breathed into the receiver. “I thought I was forgotten.”
Ugh. “No, only avoided.” I put him on speaker.
“You’re as blunt as ever. Shall I save us some time? You’re calling because Solomon Red’s insides erupted from his body and attempted to infect the city’s water supply.”
“Yes.” That was expected. Saiman dealt in information, he paid well for it, and mercs were always short on cash.
His voice could’ve melted butter. “Do you require my expertise?”
“The Order requires your expertise.”
“Oh, but I won’t work for the Order.” He laughed. “They’re too lawful for my taste.”
“My apologies for disturbing you, then. I thought you might be interested. I was wrong.”
“But I’ll work for you. On my terms.”
Here we go.
“In fact, I would be excited to work with you. Your call couldn’t have come at a better time.”
He sounded happy all over. This would cost me.
“Let’s get the simplest things out of the way,” Saiman stated. “For the ease of accounting, yours and my own, I will require a flat fee of fifty thousand dollars for my services.”
“That’s a rather large number.”
“I’m a rather expensive consultant.”
“Thirty grand.”
“Oh please, Kate, don’t haggle. Ted Moynohan likely authorized double this amount. I know this because he called me this morning and offered me fifty thousand to consult on the case. Which I refused, of course, given that I dislike him personally and find the Order’s fanaticism constricting.”
Ted’s face was granite-hard.
He went behind my back. My memory served up Mauro, bringing me the box of evidence. Why would Mauro have it? All packages came to Maxine’s desk and he never once carried them down to me. Unless the package was in Ted’s office and Ted told him to do it.
Ted had gone through my evidence and then sat there with a straight face as I recapped my findings.
“Kate?” Saiman’s voice prompted.
I picked up my coffee cup and stirred the coffee with a spoon. I’d read somewhere that doing small repetitive movements like stirring or doodling helped reduce stress and I needed to reduce my stress or it would erupt and smash into Ted Moynohan like a ton of bricks. “I’m thinking.”
“Have you noticed that your criminal doesn’t target women? Either they possess a natural immunity to his power or he simply doesn’t feel they’re a threat.”
“I’ve noticed.”