“You’re just going to walk in and tell us what you see?” Polina asked.
“I like his plan,” Remy said. “It’s ballsy. And fun. And you know that after twenty minutes of being in there, Mordred will have started a fire or a fight. Possibly both.”
“See, Remy thinks I can do it.”
“Remy likes to blow things up,” Fiona said.
“That makes me sound like a very one-note character,” Remy said. “I have other hobbies. Old guns, old swords. The guitar.”
“Really, the guitar?” Mordred asked.
“Yeah, I’m really getting used to doing some good solo work on it. I’ll have to play you something.”
“This is not the time,” Fiona almost shouted before glaring at Remy. “You are not helping.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize I was meant to be, sorry.”
Mordred rested a hand on Fiona’s shoulder, removing it when she flinched to get away. “Fiona, I either go in and get killed, or I go in and help. Both are better than sitting in this cold van until someone makes a decision about what to do.” He turned to Polina. “I know you want us to wait until the club is empty, but I’m sure I can sort that bit out.”
Polina sighed, opened a small metal box beside her, and passed Mordred a small packet.
He opened the packet, removing the tiny mic inside, before placing it inside his ear. “So, you can hear me okay?”
Polina turned to a laptop and opened a piece of software on it. She plugged in a small speaker and activated it, which made a buzzing noise in Mordred’s ear.
“That okay?” she asked.
The buzzing noise went away, and Mordred nodded. “I’ll talk to you on the way to the club, and once I’m in I’ll give details of what I see, but don’t come in unless I give you the go order.”
“You’re going to blow something up, aren’t you?” Diana asked.
“Now you’ve spoiled the surprise,” Mordred said with a slight smile. “I’m not planning on it, but if that’s my best option, then you’d best expect fireworks. Can you keep the human police away from here?”
“I’ll be listening for any traffic from them coming our way,” Polina said. “I’ll do what I can to stop them, but try not to blow the whole building up. I’m sure they won’t like that, what with the current worldwide attacks, or the fact that people don’t like it when you blow up a part of their city.”
Mordred opened the van door and stepped out into the cold night. “I’ll do my best.”
“That’s what we’re worried about,” Diana said. “Don’t get killed.”
“Not planning on it.” He shut the van door and set off toward the nightclub, where the line to get in had vanished to nothing, although the two large doormen remained outside. Both were over six feet tall, both were bald, and both had tattoos on their hands and skulls.
“Hi,” Mordred said and waved.
The two men exchanged a confused glance, and Mordred guessed that they probably weren’t used to people behaving around them in that manner.
“I’d like to get in,” he continued, this time in Russian.
The men looked at Mordred in his jeans and thick, dark-gray coat made for keeping out the cold, but not really made for fashion. They looked down at his black boots, and then back up at Mordred. “Fuck off,” they said in unison.
“How about this?” Mordred asked, continuing in Russian. “How about, you go tell your bosses that Mordred is out here in the freezing fucking cold, so they can either come out here and let me in, or they can come out here and remove your broken bodies from the street?”
Neither men liked Mordred’s words, and the one closest to him threw a punch. Mordred avoided it easily, stepped around into the path of the second bouncer, and planted his foot right between his legs with enough force to send him to the cold pavement.
Mordred moved away, watching both men, as the first bouncer ignored his friend and threw another punch. Mordred blocked the punch and smashed his fist into the man’s stomach, putting just enough magical power into the blow to ensure he made his point as succinctly as possible. The man crumpled to his knees, and Mordred drove his fist into the man’s face, busting open his nose and dropping him unmoving to the ground.
The second man winced as he lay on the ground and tried to grab hold of Mordred’s leg, but Mordred was too quick and kicked the man in the face, sending him into the same state of unconsciousness as his friend.
Mordred retrieved two guns from the bouncers, emptying both of their magazines and chambered rounds before dropping them back onto their owners. They’d used normal bullets, which was hardly surprising considering their bosses were werewolves, but it also meant that Mordred wasn’t about to be killed by a stray bullet. Besides, he’d left them alive as a warning—if they decided to come after him again, he’d reconsider his goodwill. He paused. He probably should have told them that. He glanced at the two men and was sure that when they woke up they’d figure it out on their own.
He pushed open the door to the club and blinked as the noise from inside washed over him. It was made even worse by the fact that the second he stepped into the club, his magic switched off. He took a deep breath, and while the loud music made him wish he could just turn around and leave, he took a few steps inside until he was more comfortable with it.
There were hundreds of people milling around the bar area at the far end of the floor or dancing near one of two sets of stairs that led up to the floor above. A large bouncer stood guard at the foot of the stairs, and across the floor, at the opposite side, was another bouncer guarding an identical staircase. The set of stairs furthest away from the dance floor was set back from any people. Presumably the guard there would be able to hear people a little easier than the one near the dance floor.
“Lots of armed guards,” Mordred said. “Lots more innocent people. I presume they’re innocent.”
“Some people like to go to dangerous places,” Diana said in his ear. “They like to feel as if they’re close to the danger while being distant from it.”
“Then these people must love being here,” Mordred said, and looked up at the floor above, where he spotted more dancing. “More people on the floor above, and I can see those who are looking over the railings down on the people below.”
“The third floor has the office,” Polina said.
“Who’s in charge of this group?” Mordred asked as he walked through the floor toward the bar, smiling at several women who looked his way.
“The alpha, and I hate that word, is called Alexi Popov. He’s a bad guy, but his second in command is the one you really need to look out for. Her name is Daria Kozar. I’m almost certain she’s ex-KGB.”
“I thought there was no such thing,” Mordred said. “Isn’t that the phrase?”
“So I hear. But on this occasion, I don’t think they’d really want her back.”