Dream Thief, page 12
“Mssr. Derlyth?” he asked carefully, accent betraying a northerner.
Parisian? More likely Flemish, probably.
“Indeed so,” Augustus replied, equally carefully.
Nobody in this town should know him, save having been pointed in his direction by someone else. And there were only five people who might. Nava was in Rome. Lady Claudette and Digby were otherwise busy. Tawfiq should have wisely fled by now.
That left one. Even his hotel manager would have demanded the chap leave a card upon calling, then handed it discreetly to Augustus in passing later.
Thus, this Flemish fellow already smelled like a trap. But then, Augustus had had a few bad encounters with Belgians in his time. Something about Flanders and Wallonia that seemed to cause people to go astray.
“May I?” the man asked, gesturing to the empty chair across.
Good manners demanded that Augustus assent, so he did, but one hand worked the somatic gestures of a particular incantation under the table. One not needing materials consumed nor words muttered.
“Mssr. Perrin,” the stranger introduced himself.
Augustus nodded neutrally. One gentleman to another, though this fellow’s suit seemed a bit threadbare. Worn past the point it should have been retired and turned into a dust bag, with a suggestion of long-term poverty. Thin and a bit wan, with hints of jaundice in the sallowness of his skin.
Augustus wondered if he’d recently taken the treatment and was recovering. Or had been recruited as a useful dupe by someone trying to cause Augustus trouble.
After all, paranoia doesn’t mean that they aren’t out to get you. Better safe than sorry.
“How may I be of assistance, Monsieur?” Augustus asked.
It was obvious the man had known who he was. And wasn’t from HM’s government. They would have sent coded messages via telegram. He’d put his foot entirely down at their suggestion of sending along help.
“I represent a group interested in commissioning a thing done,” Perrin said.
Augustus let his face speak volumes of his innocence, in case the French Secret Police happened to be nearby and watching. And they might be. He had no idea what connections his previous target might have had with the authorities.
Nor did he particularly care, save that he might have to go back and do something outrageous to the gentleman later.
He had been, after all, robbed fair and square. No need to get obnoxious about it.
“A thing?” Augustus offered blandly, mimicking confusion.
“We are given to understand that you might be a man we could hire, Mssr. Derlyth,” Perrin pressed.
“I’m not entirely certain that you have the right man, my dear fellow,” August countered. “I am an acquisitions agent for Ward, Atwood, and Bittington of Fredericton, New Brunswick, at the present.”
Every time, a different city, just because anyone catching the differences had to let on that they knew too much. Like now.
“New Brunswick?” Perrin asked quietly.
“A province on the Atlantic Coast of Canada,” Augustus informed him with a firm nod and a knowing smile.
Like any competent salesman.
“I was told…” and there Perrin trailed off, knocked a shade off kilter. As intended.
“Yes?” Augustus inquired brightly.
Perrin shook his head as though clearing his mind.
“I was under the impression that you might be hired for certain activities,” he continued. “A former employer mentioned you by name.”
“I see,” Augustus nodded again, as though all was on the up and up.
Tawfiq had fled town on a ship that had been keeping the steam up already so that they didn’t waste thirty minutes building pressure when it became necessary. Something about an expectation of reprisals chasing the man down the wharf itself.
And he ought to be well on his way to Egypt by now, hiding as deeply as he might dig while awaiting the repercussions to finally pass.
None of which this fool would know, though he should have given it some serious thought before arriving with such a poorly constructed dog and pony show.
“This hardly the place to discuss such things, Mssr. Perrin,” Augustus assured him. Publicity, and all that. “Perhaps if you were to call upon me around six, at my hotel?”
The fellow seemed relieved, so Augustus sent him on his way with the room information, musing as he did that someone had gotten clumsily involved.
Another stalking horse? French authorities with their customary competence on law enforcement—and other—matters? Or had Guérin recruited more friends? Or even Lachance, worried that he had arrived so late to the game as to be nothing more than a substitute?
At least the game had grown interesting.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
As was necessary, Augustus had swung back by to speak with Digby, checking in mid-afternoon and seeing what they had learned.
If nothing else, he was developing interesting new ways to mask his steps from watchers trying to follow him around Marseilles, clouding their eyes and minds and at times becoming like a ghost.
He would mark this trip down as something of a training retreat, given weeks to work on new skills or at least new interpretations. Yun Shi Bao would be greatly impressed, when Augustus showed him a few of the tricks he had created for himself.
Now, Augustus was back in his room with the curtain closed and every bit of esoteric might arrayed. Digby looked a bit put out. Lady Claudette had expressed disappointment that she was unable to attend, but Augustus had put his foot down entirely.
If there was trouble, Digby could handle nearly anything, and even then, was only along in case their opponent’s numbers proved to be more than Augustus could handle without resorting to lethal means.
As he might, if pressed or surprised.
A man whose natural reflex is deadly becomes one that few trifle with, once they understand that.
And Augustus was working with strangers here, though he was unsure which batch.
“My apologies, Digby, for making you wait in the closet so,” Augustus told the man as they noted the time. “If all goes well, none will be the wiser once I send the fool on his way.”
“And otherwise?” Digby asked.
“I would not be offended if you emerged with the Webley like some terrible knight of yore bearing his sword,” Augustus nodded. “The game will have likely gotten out of hand at that point, and I do not believe in fighting fair by any stretch of the imagination.”
He saw the giant man squished into the tiny space, hunched some because of the bar, and with the door slid shut, not that the thin wood might stop any sound at all. It was enough that Perrin, or whoever he might be, would be facing that giant’s terrible wrath from surprise, like a sea monster arising from the dark depths.
Digby could be like that.
Augustus settled in the chair and waited. Perrin was due in four minutes and might try to listen at the door given half a chance. It would never do to let him understand that Augustus was this prepared.
The coffee had grown a touch stale, but that was an acceptable price to pay for now.
At precisely six, even as bells at the church tolled, a rap at the door announced a visitor.
Augustus took a moment and confirmed that everything was intact around the walls, even as he conjured a particular kind of spirit that accompanied him to the door, there to swallow any other conjuration attempting to slip in while Augustus had the door ajar.
There were many layers to the game. Augustus believed in preparing for all of them, even if that meant ceding the initiative from time to time.
Better to let the other fool stumble into your trap than chase theirs, after all. Like that one Bengali gentleman in Berlin who had…yes, the German authorities were still confused and a bit upset about that one. Better to let sleeping dogs lie.
Augustus unlocked the door and braced a foot as he opened it, in case someone thought to rush him, only to end up facing Digby’s wrath.
Perrin, looking no healthier now than he had hours ago. Threadbare and tired, though Augustus thought he detected a hint of a glamour around the man.
Not a conjuration, as the door would have likely arced like lightning on contact. An illusion, perhaps? Someone wearing Perrin’s face? Whoever Perrin was, were he not a figment of some fervent imagination.
“Mssr. Perrin.” Augustus nodded, pulling the door open to allow the man entrance, then sticking his head into the hallway to confirm emptiness.
He shut the door and closed an esoteric circuit that would ring an alarm were anyone to touch it, say with an ear or stethoscope.
He’d considered a damaging jolt but refrained at the time. Innocent bystanders and confused maids, as it were. Easier to not have to explain such a thing. Nothing good would come of it.
Augustus turned to the man and gestured him to the other chair. He himself remained standing by the door, letting various esoteric senses drink in Perrin, even as he listened to the heartbeat of the hotel itself for wrongness.
Still, that hint of glamour. A touch of power around the man that suggested he was not what he seemed.
What, then?
“Greetings, again,” Augustus nodded. “You may speak freely here, as I’ve done things to keep us from being observed or overheard.”
Pity if he had to fry the mind of a French police official over all this, but the game was too important, if a different French citizen was intent on a murderous spree.
Broken eggs and omelets, as it were.
“Certain things?” Perrin asked, perhaps a touch askance.
“Esoteric manipulations,” Augustus agreed, letting the man know he was dealing with a metaphysician.
Whatever he might do with such knowledge. Did you fools think a mundane had waltzed into that chateau and stolen that mask? If so, I have a bridge I might sell you in Manhattan.
But he smiled.
“So, you stole that mask?” Perrin asked.
Augustus went ahead and bound a thread to the man. Or attempted to.
A quick sleight of hand, but it slipped harmlessly off, suggesting that the man was shielded by something illusory. Enough that Perrin didn’t look like that. Whatever he did look like.
And Augustus had no way to determine whether he was a gendarme stumbled accidentally into something much bigger.
Nor could Augustus do much about it.
“Who are you, Perrin?” Augustus countered sharply.
Neither confirming nor denying but stepping entirely past that to establish better credentials.
“I represent buyers interested in hiring your services, Derlyth,” the stranger countered.
“And how was it you came to identify me?” Augustus growled, wondering if Digby was going to be needed in an even shorter term than Augustus had expected before.
“A fence we contacted.”
“Really?” Augustus sneered. “Which one?”
There was only one that could have done it, and she was—hopefully—well hidden in Rome right now, where she might not be collateral damage when all this detonated. And really should have been smart enough to keep her mouth shut, though he had little to go on for trusting her.
“That’s not important,” Perrin said.
“It is of utmost importance,” Derlyth countered. “I will presume you then for a police officer intent on entrapping an innocent civilian into being involved in some future crime.”
At this moment, a real one might stand up and draw a whistle to summon aid. At least a British bobbie would. That the sound couldn’t escape the room wouldn’t mean much, as it would be enough of a confession for Augustus.
Or the fool might go for a gun, in which case he would be about to discover how quickly Yun Shi Bao had insisted that Augustus move across an enclosed space.
Before a half-inch metal ball bearing dropped from chest high could make a noise on the floor.
Enough time to kill a man.
Perrin did neither.
They locked eyes. Augustus had the advantage, being standing while Perrin sat.
And waited.
“I need a thief,” Perrin finally admitted.
“Contact the underworld down on the docks,” Augustus sneered. “I am a businessman on something of a vacation at present.”
“You stole the mask,” Perrin insisted.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Augustus lied facilely. “However, if you are present to postulate certain criminal offenses, I fear that we must cut this conversation short. If you will excuse me, I will bid you adieu.”
Augustus watched the fool realize how badly he had blundered, mentally backtracking and trying to find a way to salvage things.
Then Perrin did a thing. Not much. Almost unnoticeable.
Almost.
One hand sketched a quick icon in the air, down by his side next to the table. A faint trailing of light. A hint of cinnamoned apple in the air, like a freshly baked pie resting atop the window to cool.
Augustus nearly blasted the fool and went for his orichalcum blade but managed to control the impulse.
He knew he was dealing with another like himself now. One trained in the arts. Or at least dabbling sufficient to incant something.
Given the things Augustus had spent his time doing from the moment he first took this room, he was almost surprised that nothing jumped out and bit the fool when he did something here.
Instead, Augustus gestured a negation. A counter to whatever Perrin had just done. An unraveling that he might have put a little too much effort behind, from the way Perrin’s entire form wavered for a moment before stabilizing again.
Not before Perrin rose, shivering. He backed away from Augustus as if unconsciously, though it did put him somewhat close to a window, were he to suddenly try to throw one open and escape that way.
Five floors and nothing but air to break your fall. Ta!
Augustus watched Perrin. He kept both hands up where he might invoke another counter just as easily as he could leap across the room with a strike.
“I find myself tiring of this conversation, Perrin,” Augustus warned the man, knowing that Digby was probably of the verge of making his terrible presence known. “Who are you and who sent you?”
“Nobody you would know,” Perrin replied.
“Former or latter?” Augustus pressed, recognizing the evasion for what it was.
“How did you do it?” Perrin asked.
“Do what?” Augustus growled, wondering if he’d end up having to summon a particular breed of daemonic beast that specialized in getting blood stains out of wood floors before they set.
“The mask, Derlyth,” Perrin said. “Nobody has been able to bypass all of that and get inside. And folks have tried.”
Augustus nodded, unsurprised. Of course, they had tried. And failed.
He might have, a recently as a year ago. Today, he had ascended to a new plateau that felt rather higher than even the many men—and few women—who had been his various teachers at different points.
Even Yun Shi Bao would probably laugh with delight, when next they met, but that man embodied the true art of being a student, willing to learn from anyone he met, king or beggar.
Augustus scowled.
“You have not answered my question, Perrin,” he warned, more and more willing to unleash Digby as this progressed. “If you do not, I will assume inimical intent on your part and act accordingly.”
That got through. The man’s pale sallowness blanched deeper, until his face tended down into that sort of utter whiteness only an albino might express naturally.
“I mean you no harm,” Perrin said sharply.
Augustus answered by drawing all the power in his ring into his left hand. It glowed in such a way as to light up an otherwise pitch-black warehouse. As you might do when needing to strike someone previously immune to mere blows.
“Wait!” Perrin snapped, hands up defensively in a manner that didn’t provoke Augustus to strike.
Not yet.
This fool had challenged Augustus Dexter Derlyth at the center of his own web, in a trap laid weeks ago and then reinforced time and again.
“Marie-Rose sent me,” Perrin said.
“Did she now?” Augustus purred like a cat studying a foolish vole.
“She wanted to know how you did it,” the man continued. “How you could get through all that without sounding an alarm.”
“She could have asked me herself,” Augustus countered. “Your pardon if I find your tales a bit tall in the retelling.”
“It’s true,” the man replied. “I’m just a messenger, because she didn’t think you would listen to a woman.”
“Ha!” Augustus laughed. “Some of the most dangerous beings I have ever met were women. Your mistress among them.”
“Indeed?”
“Absolutely,” Augustus nodded. “Her, I might have been willing to discuss the matter with because I find her so fascinating. You, being a mere lackey, may now depart. Do not return, because next time I encounter you I will assume that you represent a mortal danger to myself and anyone around me and respond with unreasonable and extravagant violence. Am I clear on this matter?”
Defeat, at least in the way he sagged.
Augustus tapped that power in his hand enough to wrap something of a field around the blurry lies that Perrin represented. Not a conjuring. A masking?
Oh, ho, was that it? Was this Perrin fellow a mask under which someone else hid? Augustus let a faint part of his mind explore how he might do such a thing, while most of his concentration focused on deflecting sudden attacks for long enough to kill the fool.
Disposing a body wouldn’t be all that hard in Marseilles. Not with a few of the contacts he had made along the way.
“I shall depart and convey your message,” Perrin offered now, hands down and face meek.
Augustus moved to the door, drawing it open as he moved to one side, lest they be close enough to touch in passing.
He would strike the fool down then deal with the consequences from the hotel manager, were it to come to that. Some understanding coursed through Perrin’s frame, as he moved deliberately away, almost as magnets repelling.
