The Flesh King, page 7
“I never thought of that.”
“The rich never do,” said Neuland as he pressed the button for the elevator.
When the door opened on Vega’s floor, they left him in the car and went into the hall with their guns out. Satisfied the corridor was clear, Ford waved Vega out of the elevator and they hurried to his apartment. Once Vega unlocked the door, Neuland pushed him aside and went in first. The lights came on, but the apartment remained quiet.
“Neuland. You all right?” called Ford.
“Not really, but the room is clear. Come in.”
Ford stepped inside and said, “Holy shit.”
Tilda brought Vega in by the arm and made a face. “It looks like grandfather’s house, but—”
“Like a toy store too?”
“Yeah.”
The off-white walls rose up to a decorated pressed tin ceiling twenty feet overhead. The vast room in which they stood was like a very peculiar museum, full of paintings, Greek and modern sculptures, shelves of rare comics, shining gadgets both large and small, and polished antique furniture butting up against Eames chairs. A row of Brabbu stools fronted a full-size restaurant bar against one wall. Liquor bottles glowed before an amber lighting fixture as long as the bar itself.
Ford looked round. “I see a lot of stuff, but I don’t know. What exactly is it you collect, Vega?”
“Things I like. Things of beauty that need protection and love,” he said defensively. Then, “Listen. I don’t criticize you for living in a damn missile silo, so don’t criticize my home.”
“Fair enough.”
Tilda went to a shelf of antique books. “I love these. Are those all Dickens?”
Vega stood next to her. “First editions. Yep. I have every title. Even a signed one.”
“And that painting,” she said. “Is it a real Paul Delvaux?”
Vega shook his head at it. “Yeah. My father bought a lot of his stuff. I don’t get the surrealists at all. I think my father only liked it because of all the naked women.”
“How much is all this worth?” said Ford.
“I have no idea. Great-grandma started the collection in England and shipped the original work over.”
Neuland turned in a slow circle and said, “It’s Xanadu.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s from Citizen Kane. An empty house full of beautiful treasures.”
“Hey,” shouted Vega. “Why are you all up my ass so much?”
Neuland said, “People like us don’t register to people like you until the world is on fire. At best we’re janitors or landscapers. A necessary evil.”
“I’m paying you well, so you can back off.”
“You want some respect?” said Ford. “When you pay for the doorman’s funeral, find out if he had kids and pay for their college.”
“Do that and we’ll bring you chocolate cake on your birthday,” said Neuland.
Tilda went to Vega. “Why don’t you take us to the safe?”
The small man brightened. “You’ll love this. I designed it myself.”
They followed him to a large antique wardrobe in the back of the apartment. Opening it, Vega slid the clothes away and pushed open the rear panel. “Welcome to Narnia,” he said.
“You’re insane,” said Ford.
Tilda stepped inside the wardrobe and poked her head out the back. “I think it’s adorable. I want one too.”
Vega turned to Ford and Neuland. “I like her.”
“Can you show us the safe now?” said Neuland.
“Can just Tilda come?”
“Sure,” said Ford. “We’ll keep guard in here.”
Vega led her into a bare back room with a vault door set against one wall.
“I like this. Very space age,” she said.
“Thank you. Before I open the vault, would you mind turning around?”
“Of course.”
She listened as Vega worked a mechanical lock until he hit the right combination. “Okay,” he said.
Tilda turned around as Vega put his hand on a bright glass plate. Once the scan was complete, the bolts on the vault pulled back with a clunk and he opened the door.
“Oh my god.”
“You like it?” said Vega proudly.
“It’s amazing.”
Shining bullion was neatly stacked in one corner. Rare jewelry sat in display cases and on dresser’s dummies. A DaVinci leaned against a pile of cash. The codex was in the far back of the vault on a lectern. Vega retrieved it and handed it to Tilda.
“Please be careful. I don’t know if there’s another one in the whole world.”
The codex was heavy, the size of a Gutenberg Bible and bound in leather. The cover was trimmed with gold leaf and precious stones. Inside, the pages were highlighted with illuminations and notes in the margins.
They went back through the wardrobe to the main room. Vega said, “I should have mentioned before. I’m afraid the codex is in Latin.”
“Yeah. That would have been nice,” said Ford.
“It’s okay,” said Tilda calmly. “I had twelve years of Catholic school. I know my way around an ablative noun or two.”
“Great. Can we get started?” said Vega.
“Right when we get back to the Bunker.”
“Wonderful,” said Vega gently taking the book from her hands.
As the four of them headed for the door, the lights flickered once, twice, and went out. Neuland shoved Vega back into the wardrobe. “Get inside and stay quiet.”
Ford, Tilda, and Neuland fanned out across the room. Banging his knee into a chaise-lounge, Ford cursed and said, “T, can you see anything?”
“Yes. It’s fine. Nothing is different.”
“We’re pretty much blind, so you’re in charge.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” she said. Then, “By the window!”
Glass exploded into the room as a man’s silhouette burst inside and jumped down into the dark. Neuland and Ford opened up with their guns, shooting a wide pattern where the silhouette had come down.
To Tilda, the intruder glowed a bright cyan that vibrated rather than shimmered, leaving a smeared trail in the dark when he moved. He slammed into both Ford and Neuland, knocking them to the floor.
“It’s him. Bacri,” shouted Tilda. “Stay down.”
As she watched, the alchemist circled the room, getting closer to the wardrobe. Taking careful aim, she shot into the center of the blur, but he was too fast. Four shots missed, but when he was making his way around the bookcase, kicking Ford and Neuland out of the way, Tilda’s fifth shot spun Bacri around so he stumbled into an antique table. She kept shooting until he fell to his knees.
“I’m out of bullets,” Tilda shouted.
Neuland managed to get out a small flashlight and pin Bacri in a circle of illumination.
Ford shot at him but, even bloody and wounded, the alchemist was still able to streak away. Neuland dived behind the bar, grabbed a bottle of vodka, and shot at Bacri. When he ran at him, Neuland broke the bottle on the side of the alchemist’s head and sparked his lighter, tossing it at the man. Bacri burst into flames and stumbled backwards, falling over furniture and sending sculptures crashing to the floor. When he made it back to the window, he grabbed the edge of the shattered sill and jumped outside, a blazing star falling out of sight. As soon as the alchemist was gone, the lights flickered and came back on.
Tilda went to the wardrobe and said, “You can come out now, Andy. He’s gone.”
Vega crept into the room and looked around. “Was that Bacri?”
“I think we can assume that,” said Neuland.
“How did he know where I was hiding?”
Ford limped over, wiping blood from his lip. “The fucker was probably watching us through your window the whole time.”
Vega looked at around, surveying the damage to his apartment. “My poor collection.”
“Is the apartment soundproof?” said Neuland.
“No.”
“Then let’s get going,” Ford said. “Before some solid citizen calls the cops.”
“What about Bacri?”
Tilda said, “He’s hurt. He won’t be bothering us again tonight.”
Vega held the codex tight to his chest as they drove back downtown, weapons reloaded and within easy reach.
15
When they reached the Bunker, Vega went straight downstairs to lie down in the shooting range. “Leave the codex,” said Neuland. Vega set it on the coffee table before trudging away.
More shellshocked than scared, thought Tilda. She sat on the easy chair across from the sofa and said, “I shot someone tonight.”
“You okay?” said Ford.
She looked at him. “I don’t know. I’m horrified at myself, but kind of giddy at the same time.”
“Yeah. That’s pretty much your first shoot.”
“Do you think—?”
“That he’s dead?” said Neuland. “Doubtful. You said it yourself. He’ll be hard to take down. If we can at all.”
Tilda sat back and hugged herself. “But he’s hurt, right? We at least hurt him?”
“Absolutely.”
Ford said, “Being shot and set on fire is going will ruin anyone’s evening. Even someone immortal.”
“The downside of that is that he’s wounded. He’ll have to kill again soon to restore himself,” Neuland said.
“Maybe more than once, just to be a dick.”
Tilda set her gun on the coffee table, pulled the codex onto her lap and opened it. After leafing through a few pages she said, “This really is beautiful.”
“But is it helpful?” said Neuland. “I think we’re in serious trouble if it isn’t.”
Tilda smiled up at him. “Don’t worry. I’m not letting it out of my sight and I’m reading every single word.”
“Let us know if there’s anything you need.”
“A drink? Something to help me calm down?”
“You got it,” said Ford grabbing a bottle of rye from the shelf and pouring a good amount into a tumbler.
“Gratias tibi,” she said when he handed it to her.
“Latin?”
“Sic. Yes. I’m just trying to shift my brain over into the right reading mode.”
“We’ll leave you alone and let you work,” said Neuland.
* * *
A few hours later, as dawn began to filter into the room through the windows, Tilda stretched and went into the kitchen to make coffee.
Ford was asleep on the sofa, but Neuland came in from his lab. “Did you find anything interesting?”
Tilda nodded as she poured water into the coffeemaker. “A lot. I mean, a lot.”
“Have you found a way to kill him?”
She frowned as she set the coffeemaker brewing. “Not yet. But I know some things he tries to avoid.”
“Such as?”
“He sure doesn’t like revenants. He might even be afraid of them.”
Neuland nodded a little and said, “That makes sense. We could remind him of what he’s running from.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” She got down two coffee mugs from the cabinet. “There are some interesting spells in there too. Curses. Potions. Self-defense. It’s fascinating.”
“Maybe you’ll translate some of it for me when this is over.”
“I’d like that.”
Ford stirred on the sofa and sat up. “Did I fall asleep? What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” said Tilda bringing him a cup of coffee. “I’ve been reading and Neuland has been in the lab.”
Taking a couple of sips of coffee, Ford said, “Sorry to leave you in the lurch. But I’m up now. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing right now. Everything is fine.”
“I suppose we should check on Vega. I don’t think he’s handling all this well,” said Neuland.
“I’ll do it,” said Ford. “Give me a chance to stretch out a little.”
“Don’t scare him,” said Tilda.
“I’ll be a gentle little lamb.” But when he was halfway down the stairs he shouted, “Vega! You still alive down there?”
When he came back up a few minutes later, Neuland said, “How’s Vega?”
Ford gave him a thumbs up. “He’s curled up like a pill bug on the mattress, but he’s not insane or dead, so I count that as a win for everyone.”
“Poor guy,” said Tilda. “All he wanted was a date at the party, and all he got was the groon, Bacri, and us.”
“Hell of a night for anyone.”
“For all of us,” said Neuland before returning to his lab. When he finished his coffee, Ford went to join him while Tilda read more of the codex.
At nine the door buzzer went off.
“Fucking Fessenden,” said Ford looking at the security screen.
“Do we let him in?” said Tilda.
Neuland came up behind her. “We should see what the bastard wants.”
Ford pushed the entry button and Fessenden came inside. He walked to the middle of the living room and gave them the same warm grin he gave them the first time they met. “So,” he said finally. “Here we are again.”
“What can we do for you, detective?” said Neuland.
Fessenden’s smile faltered slightly. He held out his hands in front of him. “No. It’s what can I do for you.”
“What can you do?” said Ford.
“Not having you all killed for one thing. I won’t even bother mentioning jail to people like you. I respect you too much.”
“That’s swell. Thanks.”
Bringing his hands together, Fessenden lowered them in front of him. “But I have to admit, I’m really disappointed in all of you. I thought you were pros. From what I hear, Vega is still alive. And you’re leaving messes all over town.”
“Which messes are those?”
“Don’t be cute. Why isn’t Vega dead?”
“Don’t worry about Vega. He’s off the streets and won’t be bothering anyone.”
“Where is he exactly?”
“Where he can’t hurt anybody.”
“And nobody can hurt him,” said Tilda.
Fessenden took an exaggerated breath. “That wasn’t our deal.”
Ford said, “The way I remember it, we didn’t actually have a deal. You offered us money but included a lot of veiled threats.”
For the first time, the detective looked angry. “My threats aren’t veiled. When I threaten you, you’ll know it. Now I’m asking again, where is Vega?”
“Who?” said Neuland.
Fessenden looked around the room. He stared at Tilda. “He’s here. Isn’t he? I want to see him.”
“You’re not killing anyone in our home,” she said.
“So, he is here. Why?”
“He has information we need,” said Neuland.
“Information? About what?”
Ford said, “The Skinner.”
Fessenden looked around again. “See? This is what I’m talking about. I didn’t hire you to worry about the Skinner.”
“Like I said, you didn’t hire us at all.”
“Who told you about Vega being alive?” said Neuland.
“I read the report about what happened at his apartment last night. A break-in that turned into the fucking OK Corral. There was blood, but no bodies. It stands to reason that it was you in there with him.”
“Really? How did we get in?”
“The front window was busted all to hell.”
Ford laughed. “Do you really think we go flying into buildings like Batman?”
“I don’t know what you fuck-ups do,” Fessenden growled.
“How’s Angie?” said Tilda.
The detective turned to her. “Who?”
“She was with Andy at the party and they went home together. She was with him when the groon attacked.”
“A groon? What’s that? It sounds scary.”
Tilda stared at him for a few seconds longer, then said, “You’re lying. You know what a groon is. And Angie made a phone call before leaving the party. Was that to you?”
“Who the fuck is Angie?”
Turning to Ford and Neuland she said, “He’s still lying.”
“Angie’s dead,” said Ford.
“Allegedly shot by a mugger,” Neuland said. “But you wouldn’t want anyone knowing that you were the one she called.”
“Except your employer.”
Fessenden shrugged. “NYPD doesn’t pay me to kill random redheads.”
“How do you know she’s a redhead?” said Tilda.
“And we don’t mean NYPD,” said Neuland. “We mean your real employer.”
Fessenden pulled his pistol from under his coat and pointed it at Tilda. “Fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck all of you. Bring me Vega or I’m shooting her in self-defense.”
Ford said, “How’s your boss doing this morning? A little crispy on the outside? I bet that fall really hurt.”
“You never cared about Andy,” said Tilda. “You just wanted the codex for the alchemist.”
“And to make us look like we were involved in Vega’s death,” said Neuland.
Fessenden raised his eyebrows slightly. “I will shoot her.”
“My name is Tilda.”
“Fine. I will shoot you, Tilda.”
Ford said, “Do you really think you can kill all of us before we make you eat that gun?”
The detective’s grin returned. “Yeah. I do.” He gave a chair a light kick and it flew across the room, smashing to pieces against the far wall. He flicked his hand back and gouged a deep hole in the concrete wall. “See? He’s already given me some of his power. I’ll be just like him soon.”
Ford, who’d removed his gun before lying down the night before, made a feint toward the weapon. This gave Neuland, who was still armed, a chance to pull his pistol and shoot Fessenden. The detective slammed back against the wall but didn’t fall. He raised his gun and shot back, hitting Neuland twice in the chest. Ford scrambled to the coffee table to get his pistol, but Fessenden got off another shot, hitting Ford in the arm. Spinning, he kicked the coffee table at Neuland, knocking him to the ground. The detective pinned him there with a foot on the table and said, “I know it’s hard to kill your type, but what happens if I empty this whole clip into your brain? Let’s see.”
