“Too right,” said Binder, coming up behind Valmont, still at the stairway’s top and nudging her down like a bulldog herding a hesitant child. “Bullets are no respecters of persons. Go on, girl. And Ash, love, don’t forget to fill my pack.”
Ascher had a couple of empty black backpacks slung over her shoulder. “I know, I know. The red ones.”
Nicodemus came to the top of the stairs, dragging the unconscious guard, and came down the steps, taking the guard along none too gently. Once he had the man to the bottom, he interlaced his handcuffs with those of the men already on the floor and cuffed him there.
“Well-done, Miss Ascher,” Nicodemus said. “We’ll secure the hallway and you can repeat your excellent performance on the second door. Miss Valmont, if you would accompany us, please—I’ll want you working on the main vault door the moment we have access to it.”
Anna Valmont tensed beside me, her fingers fretting over the surface of her tool roll, constantly wiping droplets of water away.
“Michael,” I said, “why don’t you go on in and make sure Valmont has everything she needs?”
Michael arched an eyebrow at me, but nodded, and came down the stairs to Anna Valmont’s side. He gave her an encouraging smile, which she returned hesitantly, and the two of them went on through in the wake of the others.
“Dresden,” Nicodemus said, his tone amused. “Surely you don’t think I’d do anything to the woman simply because her purpose had been served?”
“Not if you want that Way opened, you won’t,” I said.
Nicodemus smiled at me. He had buckled on a sword belt bearing the long blade he’d used earlier and a curved Bedouin dagger. “There, you see. You can learn to play the game after all.” He vanished through the security door. A moment later, a huge shadow moved through the narrow stairway. I never saw the Genoskwa go by, but I felt the brush of patchy fur against the skin of my right hand, smelled a faint reek of its odor in the air, and bits of ash and the scent of burned hair came from the edges of the torched opening as the huge beast squeezed through it.
“This stinks,” Binder said a moment later, his voice pitched low. “This stinks all to hell.”
“Hah,” I said. “Maybe it’s just the furball.”
He snorted, and we waited in silence for another three or four minutes, until Ascher reappeared, newly muddy with ashes and soot from burning through the second wall, wearing the manacles again. “That big thing creeps me out,” she said.
“Too right,” Binder said. “Gotta wonder what something like that wants with jewels, eh?”
He wasn’t wrong about that.
“You’re right,” I said. “It smells.”
Ascher traded a long look with Binder. “Should we leave?”
Binder grimaced. “And leave Old Nick unable to get through his fiery gate? He’d take that personal, I think. What is Uncle Binder’s Rule Number Two?”
“Keep your eyes on the money,” Ascher said.
“That’s right,” Binder said. “Don’t take things personal, don’t get emotional. We’re professionals, love. Do the job, get paid, get gone.”
“There could be more than money at stake here,” I said quietly.
“Nick and his cup?” Binder asked. “Been a lot of bad men and a lot of powerful artifacts since this ball started spinning. It’ll spin on.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not. Nicodemus is connected like few others. What if I could make you an offer?”
“Cash?” Binder asked.
I grimaced. “Well. Not as such.”
He made a tsking sound and glanced at Ascher. “What’s Uncle Binder’s Rule Number One?”
“Money or nothing,” she said. “Anything else costs too much.”
He nodded. “So don’t offer me favors, wizard, or lenience from the White Council, or power from a Faerie Queen. Those things aren’t payment. They’re pretty, pretty things with strings attached, and sooner or later you’re all wrapped up like a bug in a web. Money or nothing.”
“What about freedom?” I asked him. “The cops are going to have this place surrounded by the time we get back. Do you think you’re going to fight your way out past an army of CPD?”
Binder let out a low belly laugh. “Look at you, Dresden. Damn, but you’re a Boy Scout. This is a mob bank, belongs to your local robber baron. Eight minutes since the silent alarm went off, and where are the sirens? Where are the uniforms?”
I grimaced. I’d noticed that, too.
“You really think the alarms call the gendarmes?” He shook his head. “Twenty to one, it’ll go to his people first. Then they can decide if they want to call in the coppers or handle the matter themselves.”
Yeah. Marcone’s people.
Gulp.
Binder busied himself making sure the groaning, stirring guards had been thoroughly disarmed and relieved of their handcuff keys. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, odds are good if this Marcone of yours is so savvy, someone will start playing circle games with me. I’ll need to be ready to counter them.” He pointed a finger at Ascher.
“For the hundredth time, the red ones,” Ascher said, quirking a slight smile.
“I’ll buy us a nice tropical island with a nice beach, and get you a new swimsuit,” he said, winking.
“You should be so lucky,” Ascher said back.
“I’ll hold the door for you lot. Don’t be too long.” Binder went up the stairs, his beady eyes sparkling, fairly bristling with energy.
“Huh,” I said.
“What?” Ascher asked.
“You and Binder . . . not a thing?”
Ascher’s mouth turned up bitterly at the corners. “Not for lack of trying.”
“Well,” I said, “kinda hard to blame him. You’re damned attractive.”
“Not him, trying,” she said. “Me. He’s turned me down.” She looked up the stairs for a moment and sighed. “Rule Number One. He’s not into entanglements.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to imagine Ascher coming on to Binder and getting turned down. Granted, I’d turned her down too. Which . . . now that I thought about it, just couldn’t have been awesome for her self-image.
Doesn’t matter how pretty you are. What’s important is how pretty you feel. No one feels pretty when they hear “no” often enough.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said, “but you would not believe how many times I’ve had pretty girls who would have eaten me alive, like, literally, make a pass at me. Makes a guy a little tense about it.”