Talented Books 1-3 Box Set, page 35
A man appeared in the doorway of the butchers, standing very still. Lenny didn’t move any closer, but yawned and stretched. Then, padding over to the window again, he sat looking up at the last bit of meat still hanging there. I heard a whistle. The man stepped forward and turned his head to Lenny, showing the small tattoo on his cheek. Ronson. Lenny perked his head up at the man watching him and Ronson held a hand out, dangling a bit of steak.
Lenny twitched his head in interest. His eyes followed the meat that was swinging from Ronson’s hand. Lenny stood, edged closer, then shied back. He played at this for a few minutes. Then, he lunged to catch the piece of steak that was thrown at him. Ronson stood back and watched him eat.
“Why is he just watching? I thought he’d be trying to get closer.” I glanced over to Greyson when he didn’t answer.
His brow was creased and the corners of his mouth downturned. A terrible thought occurred to me and my eyes darted back to the screen. I watched as Lenny, meat gone, took a few wobbly steps towards Ronson, then went sideways. He turned, dragging his feet and pulling himself away with an effort. Then, he fell to the ground.
“Lenny?” My voice was panicked. I stood, but Greyson grabbed my wrist.
“Wait. They won’t hurt him, he’s worth more alive. Just wait.”
Ronson called out, words too indistinct to make out. A second, unfamiliar man emerged from the shop carrying a large sack. Together, he and Ronson laid it flat on the ground, rolled Lenny onto it, then lifted it like a stretcher. They disappeared back inside. A minute later the second man came outside and looked directly into the TV screen. I shuddered and my breathing quickened. He walked over to the undercover officer with quick strides.
Dropping a bag in front of the lens he said, “Ya didn’t see nuthin’, roight?” He leaned forward as he spoke, the side of his face moving close, obscuring our vision. It took me a minute to figure out what he was doing and when I did, I nearly retched, wondering how the officer had tolerated blood-spattered, grimy butcher’s lips on her neck.
“Nuthin’ ter see. Oi, what am I s’posed ter do with a bag o’ sausages?” The woman’s voice was hoarse and a little slurred.
“Take ’em ta the shelter off Church. They’ll let ya cook ’em there.”
“Stingy bastard.”
The man disappeared back inside.
“I swear to God, Greyson, you fucking owe me for that,” a muffled voice said quietly through the speakers next to me. It made me jump, for it sounded nothing like the voice from a moment ago.
“You good, Sallaway?” Greyson said, after clicking a button on the mic in front of him.
“I’ll live. You still owe me.” She sounded unimpressed.
“If we take him down, I’ll kick him in the balls for you.”
“I’d rather you bring him into custody so I can do it myself.”
Greyson barked a laugh. “You’re a lady, remember.”
“Fuck you, Greyson.”
The last was said with a quiet chuckle. Greyson glanced over as if remembering I was there, and blushed.
“Oh. Ah, Sorry ’bout the language. Comes with the job.”
One corner of my mouth lifted in response and he smiled back, then ducked his head back to the video screen. It wobbled sickeningly, turning to one side then righting itself. Sallaway lurched down the street. Then, she stopped.
“What is it?” I asked, as Steenson made the same query over the radio. Harrod glanced up from across the room at the alarm in my voice, but didn’t intrude.
“They’re going by car.” Sallaway explained, just as the camera turned to show an old Volvo chugging down the street away from the shop. I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath. Greyson twisted his head up to look at me.
“It’ll be fine. We accounted for this. They won’t be moving too far, operations like this tend to keep things close. We’ve got people stationed in each direction, they can move in quicker than Sallaway can catch up. If they see her again they’ll think it’s strange, so someone else will take point now. Steenson, where’re they headed?”
“Toward the river, Boss.” The radio crackled and went silent as Steenson clicked off.
“Myles?” Greyson asked.
“No,” Steenson said. “Beefcake’s closer.”
Hurried words passed over the radios, passing directions to several officers including Beefcake. Then, Steenson said, “Looks like they’ve stopped. Hang on, let me check the location. Trainor, you ready?” He rattled off an address as Trainor clicked at a small computer in front of her.
“It’s a warehouse, Captain. Belongs to a C. M. Smith. Er… dog food, it says here.”
Well that was reassuring. Backing away from the monitors, I took a seat, clasping my hands in my lap and reminding myself to stay out of their way. My instincts screamed at me to run for the warehouse, ploughing through anyone who stood in my way. Instead, I sat quietly, body as tense as a violin string.
“Okay, they’re stationary now. No eyes on the target, Captain.”
The next fifteen minutes were fraught with tension. The tracker was stationary, and the officers watching outside saw no movement in or out of the building. As the weight in my stomach grew, I turned to Gibble.
“Gib, if something happened to Lenny… would you know?”
He shook his head worriedly, then turned to Barg.
“Little friend, you do be knowing the Lenny-Dog. You be telling the truth, for this be of great import.”
Barg shuffled his feet, looked at the floor and twisted his hands. Gibble made a low rumbling sound and Barg winced, bony arms covering his head defensively.
“Barg be so sorry, Lady! Barg be taking the Lenny-Friend to the racing and we did be winning so many, but then we did be put against another and his rider, they did be joined and there were so many chips against us, Lady! Barg has never been seeing so many chips! None did expect us to be joining, and… we did make so many chips!”
Dismayed at the angst in his voice and completely lost by his explanation, I turned back to Gibble for an explanation. Barg couldn’t lie but I’d found he was very good at dodging the truth. Gibble sighed.
“The racing do be a thing of the Others, Lady. A rider and his steed be set against another pair, and who wins does be getting a cut of the winnings. Barg do be bad at the wagering—when he did stop coming to ask Gibble to be saving his wrinkly skin, Gibble did be wondering.”
“What did he mean by joined?” My words were tight, angry. Barg whimpered and edged under a table.
“It be a thing of the racing. A rider may join his steed, or it may be the steed who joins the rider if it be choosing so. It do be making them run faster, but it be a thing that, once done, be done for all-time.”
I turned to Barg and he cowered. “All time? You did something to Lenny and you can’t undo it for all time?”
Barg squealed in fright.
“Lady,” Gibble’s voice held a tone of moderation in it. “The thing Barg has done, does not be harming Lenny-Dog and could not be done without his consenting. Perhaps, Lady, it do be a boon in this-time. The bonding be joining their souls, a tiny part of each be put in the other one. They be knowing if their bond-mate be hurting or be in danger. It be a good thing on this day.”
“Harrod?” I snapped. “Do you know about this… joining?”
Harrod, who’d been watching the exchange while Martin snoozed beside him, shook his head. “Sorry. I know of the process, but hardly anything about it. It seems to be fairly common though. I don’t imagine it would be if it was harmful.”
“Lenny-Friend is safe, Lady,” Barg was quick to say. He’d manoeuvred himself so he was standing a little behind Gibble. “Lenny-Friend, he did want the bonding, he did tell me himself before Barg even did suggest it Lady! Barg swears! Lenny-Friend is Barg’s mostest of friendships and Barg would never be doing hurt to him!”
Being Other, he couldn’t lie. I believed him... Mostly. “Is he safe? What can you tell me?”
“Lenny-Friend is safe, Lady!” Barg saluted. “Barg would know if Lenny-Friend hurts, or fears, or finds a life-mate.”
I pulled a face at that. “But you don’t know anything else? If he’s unconscious he might be in danger, but not afraid.”
Barg cowered. “Lady, Barg is sure Barg would be knowing if Lenny-Friend would be in the danger, even if Lenny-Friend did not know himself. Barg would never let Lenny-Friend be hurt, Lady.” His pointed ears drooped and he looked at me with big, mournful eyes.
Letting out a growl of frustration, I turned back to Greyson.
“So what do we do now?”
The cafe door banged open, making me jump. A shabby figure with a small, overloaded shopping cart pushed through, grumbling obscenities under her breath. No one else in the room reacted. Parking the trolley in a corner, she proceeded to remove her large, grime encrusted coat and pull off her oversized trousers to reveal a pair of black tights and a black t-shirt underneath. Both were thankfully clean. Greyson tossed her a small duffel and she opened it, pulling out a woollen dress, hairbrush and some other toiletries.
“Next time you want someone to dress like a hobo, you might consider doing it yourself Captain. I think I caught fleas. You gonna foot the bill for the spa treatment I’ll need to get this shit out of my hair?” The woman’s voice was prim, but I recognised it from the radio conversation.
“Come on Sallaway, you know you love a chance to get dirty,” Greyson said.
“I’m a lady. Ladies don’t like dirt. Asshole.”
Sallaway walked over to the table and slapped something down. She looked at me.
“That’s a smart pooch you’ve got there, and one hell of an actor. I found these after they left.” On the table before her sat two slimy pink pills, one with a tendon of meat hanging off it.
“That’s what they spiked the meat with?”
“Pretty sure.” She used a wipe to scrub at her face and ears. “I saw him flick them away when our perp turned away for a moment, so I checked on my way past. He’s not out—smart ass dog winked at me as they carried him inside.” She stopped talking for a moment as she pulled the dress over her head. “Since when do dogs wink? Anyway, I thought you’d feel better knowing.”
“I do. Thanks.” I let out a small, relieved breath. Knowing of Barg’s bond with Lenny—something that had offered some reassurance despite making me entirely furious—and finding out he’d duped the dog-napper made me feel a lot safer.
Now that Sallaway was dressed and clean, she looked… wow. Her curly mess of orange hair was tucked back into a neat bun. She wore a sedate grey dress, stockings, and small heels. A string of pearls clasped around her neck completed the look. The woman oozed class and elegance in a way that was completely at odds with her language.
“Cap, they’re still not moving. You think we should make a move?” Trainor piped up from across the room.
“Too risky without eyes in the building,” Greyson replied. “Tell Myles to hurry up with that. They might be waiting for another contact to move him somewhere else. Did we get any more on the premises?”
“HQ sent through blueprints, but they’re at least thirty years old. They could have refitted the interior, there’s room in there for sure. Latest we have is three levels inside, mostly open areas. Used to be a textile workshop, owner went bust a decade ago. Now owned by…” She checked the notepad in front of her. “Extension Applications Incorporated. The dog food company is one of their smaller arms. Can’t find a scrap of useful info on any of them.”
“We need a visual, dammit. How many do we have in the vicinity now?”
“Nine, sir.” Trainor said. “Straud and Banksy are on the way now. Will I send them in?”
“No.” Greyson shook his head. “We need to keep a few men out in case they move again. What’s the holdup?”
“Beefcake said there’s a ward.”
Harrod perked up. “Beefcake?”
“One of our half-bloods,” Trainor explained. “Hardly any actual power, but he can sense the presence of a ward from about twenty feet. He can’t tell what they do, but it’s saved our skin more than once.”
“Esteemed Captain! Barg can go, Barg is very good at sneaking!”
Greyson shot me a glance over his head. He looked dubious.
“Barg, do you have hiding powder?” Greyson asked.
“Pah! Barg can’t afford that, hiding powder is forty-seven chips for a squinch! Barg can be careful though, jumping on roof with quiet feet and peeksing in a window from up high. Humans, they do not look up high past their eyeballs. They do forget about us sneaking ones.”
Greyson looked at me, and I shrugged. Barg was fast—really fast. I’d seen him dodge the grasp of many a creature faster than humans. He seemed to attract that sort of attention a lot, and over the years had become adept at avoiding it too.
I told Greyson what I knew of Barg’s ability and added that though he ran riot on his own, he was good at following instructions when it mattered.
“You’re on point, Trainor. What do you say?” Greyson asked.
“Well, we’re still waiting for the warrant to be approved. If we wire him up with a mic and camera, that could get us enough to go in clean.” She looked at me. “You’re sure he can get out in a hurry if he needs to? If something goes wrong, we’re responsible.”
“I’m sure.” I shrugged. “And look, if we’re honest? Your higher ups aren’t going to give a damn if something happens to him, or to me.”
Trainor looked at me. “Just so happens my superior does give a damn. I don’t give a toss what the rest of the department thinks—I work for Greyson, not them, and I care as much as he does. I won’t send him in unless you tell me it’s safe.”
I met her eyes. They shone with honesty and I nodded, satisfied Barg would be taken care of. Within a few minutes he was wired up and looking as though he’d just won an award. I hoped he could reign in his excitement enough to get the job done safely.
One of the screens flickered to life and we could see through his eyes, or at least through the pin on his shoulder. A mic was attached as well, though Steenson didn’t manage to get the earpiece to stay on. Barg instead draped the cord around his neck and promised to hold it to his ear every few minutes to check for instructions.
Off he went. The camera sped through the street, bounding off walls and scurrying around corners. Once in sight of the building, he stopped. A shadow passed at a window, then he shot up the side, an occasional hand coming into view, digging gnarled fingers into impossible handholds.
Trainor looked worried.
“Captain? Looks like we’ve got a mic problem, I’m not getting audio.”
“It was working when he left. He didn’t turn it off?” Greyson frowned.
“Says it’s transmitting.”
“Maybe there’s just nothing to hear,” I suggested.
“It’s highly sensitive,” Trainor said, shaking her head with worry. “We should be hearing his steps, movement, breathing. I’ve got the sound at max and there’s nothing.”
“I think you’re underestimating him. He can be pretty damn quiet,” Harrod said. He’d joined me, peering over my shoulder at the video feed.
Trainor looked unconvinced until a deafening voice boomed through the speaker. She and Steenson both lunged forwards and fumbled the volume down to a bearable level.
“...the back. You know, the blue thing? Give it a poke and see if it’s still kicking.”
The voice was muffled then trailed off as Barg climbed to the roof. Once secure, he stopped and a hand fumbled around in front of the camera.
“Officer Lady, Cappy-tahn, are you hearing Barg? Over rover?”
His voice was a raspy whisper.
“We hear you Barg. We can see you’re on the roof. What’s your plan?” Trainor asked.
“Officer Lady, Barg is feeling the Lenny-Friend most closely at the bottom-most of the building, in the rear-end corner. Barg is very near to being on top of him. Over rover.”
“Barg, see if you can get a look inside,” Trainor said. “All we need is proof they’re holding Others in the warehouse and we can go in. And Barg? You don’t have to say over.”
“Yes, Lady! Over and quiet!”
The video screen waved around as Barg plucked it off his shirt and held it out so we could see him salute. I shook my head in exasperation while Trainor snorted softly.
Another wobble of the camera and he was off across the rooftop. There was barely a scrape as he shimmied down a pipe, jumped to a windowsill, dropped to the ground and peered inside.
“Psst. Lenny-Friend? Barg has come for rescuing you!”
“Barg, you’re only there to look. Don’t go off half cocked, you’ll jeopardise the operation. Just show us what we need and come back, okay?” Greyson had a note of worry in his voice.
“Yes, Boss-arini! Barg will follow the illustrious leader and all his demands!” Barg’s voice was a loud whisper and I cringed, wondering if he’d be heard. “Lenny-Friend, Barg has a serious mission to be completing, yes? You be waiting for his triumphant returns.”
Creeping back from the window, Barg scuttled along a ledge to the next window. It was dark inside and nothing moved when he softly called.
“Ah, Officer Lady? Barg is feeling something in this room. When the cavalry does descend, please bring ones who can help this one. It does not heed Barg’s calls.”
Trainor glanced back at Greyson, eyes worried. Gibble signalled me, then quietly left the cafe. Greyson looked at me, surprised.
“He’s gone to get Olfred,” I said quietly. That the old god was needed again was a sad, sad thing. Harrod put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.
The image on the screen was suddenly filled with light. Barg looked to be peering through a window, bars crossing in front of the camera lens and obscuring the visual for a moment. It was a small room, bare and dirty with a tree branch propped against one wall.
Sitting on that branch, tail wrapped around to hold it steady, was a miniature albino dragon. Its wings were held tightly against its body, making it sit awkwardly. Black eyes swung to the window, directly at the screen as a serpentine mouth opened, tongue flicking out to taste the air.
