Bronze Gods (23 page)

“I was just thinking about that in Stokes’s office. You couldn’t discern any details about the third victim, but maybe she’s . . . important but somewhat invisible, like the first two.”
Did that make sense?
“A girl whose death would really rock the city in some fashion, concluding the trifecta of unthinkable chaos.”

Mikani nodded. “They have the Houses scared and the Summer Clan up in arms. What would push the city over the edge? Some councilor’s daughter, niece, mistress?”

“I don’t know,” Ritsuko said, frustrated. “But we’ve confirmed there’s a magical connection. Mikani, you met some of the rabble-rousers. Do you think they’re capable of this? Do they have the resources?”

His jaw clenched as he seemed to mull the question. “They may have the means, as far as manpower and tricks, yes. But from what I saw? I don’t think they could scrounge up the coin. If they’re helping Toombs, they both have a benefactor.”

“Or they stole the money.” Sometimes, the simplest answers also made the most sense.

“So where would you go to steal a few hundred ancient coins?”

She thought for a few seconds, then offered, “From one of the Houses? Should we check the incident reports to see if anyone’s reported a missing collection?”

Mikani grinned. “A good idea. And if we can find the right records, they should tell us what House they might have belonged to. We were looking for buttons, not coins or House crests.”

“To the archives first?” She slid a look at him through her lashes.

To her surprise, he was looking at her as much as the road, his gaze hooded. But his tone was light. “See? I do take you nice places.”

“You were the one complaining about that, not me.”

“I’m a sensitive soul.”

She laughed. “Just drive, Mikani.”

He actually listened. In short order, they reached the archives. The afternoon light glistened off the white stone, lending it a dazzling aspect. As usual, he ignored all posted parking regulations and left the cruiser as close as possible without actually driving up the steps. Mikani grumbled as he came along behind her, but once they were inside, he applied himself to the work with a tenacity that impressed her. Two hours later, she tapped the page, beckoning him over.

“Look,” she whispered.

He came over and bent across her shoulder, presumably for a better view.
Did he always smell like cloves?
“So it’s definitely Old Ferisher. Looks like . . . from one of the defunct Houses?”

“We have a name now, at least. We should head to the Academy to see if we can link them to a surviving House.” She pushed to her feet.

“And that’ll point us to the source of the coins. Good call.”

They gathered their coats and left, pausing to button up against the evening chill. Outside, workers emerged from nearby buildings, carrying their briefcases, hats clutched to keep them from the wind. The steps were mostly empty, so Ritsuko hurried toward the cruiser. In her haste, she didn’t see the nick in the step, and she stumbled, dropping her bag. With a muttered curse, she knelt to pick it up—and a bullet slammed into the ground a few feet in front of her.

She didn’t panic, though she heard Mikani swearing. The crowd on the walk below reacted at first as if it were fireworks, but then someone shouted, “Gun!” and they scattered like billiard balls. Women ran, their skirts billowing to reveal ankles and the lace on their petticoats, too frightened to fret about dignity.

“More than one,” a businessman called.

“Cover,” she got out, scrambling on hands and knees toward a column to the right. “Can you tell where . . . ?”

“Somewhere to the left, near the underground entrance, I think. Hard to tell with the screaming.” Mikani ran for the cruiser, dodging the shots that chipped the pavement just inches in front of his feet. Then he crouched against the back end of the vehicle, pistol in hand. “I—” He ducked as another couple of shots ricocheted off the cruiser and column. “Two shooters at least.”

She drew her weapon and peered around the stone pillar. The people on the street made it difficult to find her targets, but they didn’t prevent the gunmen from firing. A woman in a House servant’s uniform went down, fleeing toward the archive, a red stain blossoming on her back. Another round slammed into the column, too close for comfort. Ritsuko couldn’t even tell where to fire back.

“Ideas, partner? They don’t seem to care how many they take with them.”

Mikani called back, “Constables will be out in force, along with any House Guards soon. But not soon enough.”

“I’m pushing toward the underground station.”

“I’ll cover you.” He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. “On three. Three.” He rose to fire over the cruiser, the bullets striking the ground in a cascade of sparks.

Speaking her intention was easier than doing it, but she mustered her courage and rolled. It hurt tumbling down toward the cruiser, probably opening the cuts on her back. Once she made it down there, amid a smattering of fire, she caught her breath and grinned at Mikani, who seemed torn between appreciation and concern.

“Ready to do it again?” she asked.

Ritsuko waited for his signal, then, keeping low, she ran toward a bench and curled up behind it while Mikani saturated the area with rapid fire.
Twenty feet closer.
From this vantage, she saw three men, but their crouched position in the underground stairwell made it impossible for her to tell anything about them. And it would take a miracle to hit any of them from this angle.
I need to get closer.
A cacophony of whistles rang out in the distance, the signal that multiple constabulary cruisers were approaching.

At least the immediate area’s clear. If we can keep them pinned—

But the gunmen apparently knew what was coming as well; they ducked down the stairs leading to the underground. Ritsuko pushed upright and went after them at a full sprint, and she heard Mikani coming at her back, but by the time they got to the bottom, the three were aboard a departing train.

She screamed, both hands clenched in pure frustration. For good measure, she kicked a rubbish bin three times. Four. Five. It didn’t help.
Might as well lose my temper properly.
She hurled her attaché case at the station wall. Watched it bounce. “Not. Again.”

Mikani cupped her shoulder. “Easy. We might catch them at the next station if we bully through some roadblocks.” But he didn’t sound convinced.

Before she could answer, a constable ran up, flushed and panting. “Inspectors . . . sirs! Gregory Toombs. At the Port Authority, they’ve got him!”

CHAPTER 22

T
HE
P
ORT
A
UTHORITY TOWERED FIVE STORIES HIGH, PLUS AS
many belowground. A truncated pyramid, glittering beacons transformed the building into a collage of lights. Beyond the high wall that stretched several blocks to either side, the top decks and bridges of docked ships swayed with the tide. As with so many other buildings in the city, the port was crowded and understaffed twenty-four hours a day, every day of the year.

Mikani nodded, conscious of a rush of anticipation. “I’m looking forward to this.”

“I promised to keep you from killing Toombs,” Ritsuko reminded him.

He cut her a look.

People trying to leave the beleaguered city for the Winter Isle stood, sat, or camped throughout the complex. In places, Mikani had to push through the throng to reach the stairwell, and it was endless flights down from there. Finally, the two arrived at the security office. The guard on duty wasn’t a constable; he worked for the port, but they had saturated Dorstaad with sketches of Gregory Toombs.

It’s about time we caught a break.

The officer was young, early twenties, but he seemed sharp enough. “Inspectors. Welcome to the port. The prisoner is this way.”

No small talk. Good man.
Mikani followed, relieved. He guessed Toombs had gotten worried as the net tightened from all quarters. With such a high reward posted and the Summer Clan blocking the roads, he must’ve felt the sea offered his only hope of escape.
Finally, we’ll get some answers.
Ritsuko walked alongside him, still clearly aggravated by their failure at the tube station.

Never saw her lose her temper before. That was . . . interesting.

The PA officer slipped his key through the lock, then accepted their credentials as sufficient proof of their right to assume custody of the prisoner. “Have a pleasant evening, Inspectors.”

As the guard disappeared around the corner, Mikani stepped into the cell. The man perched on the edge of the cot scrambled toward the wall. Toombs looked like hell. His dark eyes were ringed with bruises, sunken in a skeletal face, and his mouth seemed too large for the rest of his features. At some point he’d shaved his head and grown a beard; putty clung to his sharp nose, probably the remnants of an attempted disguise.

“Mr. Toombs.” Mikani pinned him with a cold look. “Let me warn you that we’ve had a frustrating week. So if you lie to me, I’ll break something. Every time you lie, every time you clam up, I break something else.”

The actor flinched.

“I’m sure Mr. Toombs knows that his only hope of avoiding House Aevar and the Summer Clan’s full reprisal rests in complete cooperation.”

“True. A recommendation from us might land him on the penal farms instead.”
Like hell.
This man would pay for what he’d done; and Mikani wouldn’t rest until Toombs danced on the end of a rope or worse. It was too bad Ritsuko had offered a carrot instead because he wanted to use the stick.

Toombs exhaled, turning his face up as if for guidance. But Mikani suspected it was more that he didn’t want to meet their gazes while he told his story. He was a shell of a man, but apparently he was still capable of shame.

“This fellow approached me . . . said he was an astronomer. He knew I used to be an engineer before the acting bug bit me.” Toombs shrugged, indicating his ravaged face. “Women told me I was so good-looking, I ought to be onstage, and I started believing them. Well.
Before
, anyway.”

“Tell us the rest,” Mikani growled.

“He was . . . there was something irresistible about him. I needed the work . . . it’s not healthy to owe Mr. Stokes. But it was more, too. I found myself at emporiums and foundries, buying supplies without remembering the decision to go. And when I considered quitting, I couldn’t . . .” He trailed off, seeming frustrated.

“Do you think he had Ferisher blood?” Ritsuko asked. She was taking notes. “Could this alleged compulsion have come as a result of a glamour?”

Right. It’s not your fault at all, none of it. A wizard made you do it.

But despite himself, Mikani released some of his control to learn the man’s state of mind. The room swam with his visceral terror and the ashen taste of exhaustion. Digging deeper, Mikani caught glimmers of self-loathing—
Wait. How am I . . .
He frowned, opening more of his senses. And recoiled with a gasp, disguised as a cough.

“Maybe,” Toombs said miserably. “I hated him, but I obeyed him. And later, I was afraid. The things he said he’d do to me, those he
did
—”

“So you claim you were working under duress?” Mikani pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the throbbing at his temples.

“I’m a craftsman, not a killer. After the first device, I tried to run. I hid. But he always finds me.
Always.
” The man’s eyes darkened with terror.

“When did you construct the last machine?” Ritsuko asked.

“We finished early yesterday. I
swear
I didn’t know what he intended to do with those. I thought they were strange, but it wasn’t until you people found the first body—”

“That you realized what you’d gotten into,” she finished.

Mikani didn’t offer sympathy. “Where did you take the device?”

If they could get the site out of this pathetic waste of skin, they could set an ambush for the mystery man.
Maybe it’s not too late to save her.

“We parted ways at the city limits,” Toombs said. “He didn’t trust me.”

“You claim you don’t know where the third murder will occur.” Ritsuko made a note. Her expression looked hard, vicious even.

Mikani stood, out of patience. “Let’s transfer him to Central. We have the facilities for a lengthy interrogation.”

“But I already told you everything!” Toombs protested.

Ritsuko smiled, and it was actually a little scary. “Be prepared to spend
hours
going over your story with us. We’ll also require you to work with a CID artist to create a sketch of the man you claim hired you to build these machines.”

“On your feet,” Mikani demanded.

He didn’t wait for Toombs to respond, merely reached down and jerked him upright; he wrenched the suspect around and shackled his wrists. The actor was light for a man of his height, all rib cage and jutting elbows. His poor physical condition supported his claim that he’d been compelled to help with the last two machines, perhaps even held prisoner. That evidence didn’t keep Mikani from shoving Toombs toward the door. Ritsuko’s steps fell lightly behind him as they climbed toward the main level.

The crowd hadn’t thinned when they emerged from the security doors. If anything, it seemed worse now that they had the prisoner in custody. As Mikani paused to survey the area, a bullet slammed into the actor’s throat. The man tried to scream, choking on his own blood.
Hells and Winter.
It spattered Mikani as Toombs fell against the wall, his downward slide leaving streaks. The crowd reacted with pure panic, and soon, the area was a disaster zone, with people running and screaming.

“Get down!” he shouted, hoping some of them had the sense to listen. He vaulted over the fallen Toombs, pushing the nearest bystanders to the ground and out of the line of fire.

Ritsuko dove toward the nearest man, catching the shooter around the ankle. She landed hard, but her momentum brought him down as well. As she rose to hands and knees, the killer braced and twisted, kicking at her face. He connected, but she didn’t fall back. Finding her feet in a move she hadn’t learned in CID training, she feinted with her left hand and went for his eyes with her right, finishing with a shattering kick to his left kneecap, the one he’d fallen on the first time. Her kick connected; Mikani heard the snap of bone as her weight followed through.

Mikani fired a few rounds at the other attackers, holding them at bay while aiming high.
Wish these people would get the bloody hell out of the way, already.
Passengers and staff blocked clear lines of sight for both sides as they scrambled for the exits.

Ritsuko brought her gun up, leveling it. “If you move, I’ll shoot you.”

The bastard lunged, and she fired. Her bullet plowed into his chest, stopped him cold, but more rounds spattered the wall and ground around them. Mikani slid behind a rubbish bin and searched for the source. After a few seconds, he spotted them fifteen feet or so away, now that the crowd had thinned.

“It’s the gunmen from the archives,” he called to Ritsuko.

“Seems logical. But are they after us or Toombs?”

“Both?” he suggested. “Let me ask them.”

“I’ll cover you.” After rolling behind a kiosk, she laid down fire to clear a path.

Determined the other two wouldn’t get away again, he rushed them, using columns and benches for cover. Bullets pinged the floor, then they paused.
Reloading. Good. I have a few seconds.
Ritsuko entertained the third man with an exchange of fire. Mikani burst out of cover and sprinted at the second shooter; he didn’t try to slow his momentum and just slammed into the man. The would-be assassin’s pistol went flying. Mikani opened with a ferocious right cross, followed by a left hook. The two hits put the suspect on the ground.

He came up with the gun and cocked it. “Who sent you?”

But before Mikani could shoot him when he refused to answer, the man’s associate did. Then the third one wheeled to run, as if he had any hope of escaping with Port Authority officers converging on him. Mikani had a clear shot, so he took it; the gun roared, and the bullet pierced the man’s spine as he reached the foot of the stairs that led up to the street.

He holstered his weapon, moved past Ritsuko, who settled on a bench nearby, and kicked the body none too gently in the ribs. When the man didn’t move, he turned to her, taking in her bruised cheek.

“You look like hell. Worse, you look like
me
. But your dance partner got the worse end of the deal.” He sat next to her, staring at the body nearby.
Getting shot at’s a pain in the arse.

“He chose to die,” she said quietly. “Rather than be taken.”

Mikani had no explanation. The implications were chilling. He gestured at the corpse where port security was clustered. “And
he
killed one of his own.”

She looked pale, and he had the ridiculous desire to reassure her, to say everything would be fine—that there were no secrets or anarchist plots. But the truth was, the situation had just gotten even more complicated. Their only link to the mastermind was now spattered on the wall; they’d have to be clever to find Toombs’s employer from what the actor had told them.

“There will be hell to pay,” she mumbled. “I can’t wait for the dressing-down.”

“We tried to bring them in for questioning, but they wouldn’t come along peacefully. I don’t see how Gunwood can blame
us
.”

“That’s never stopped him before,” she said gloomily.

“Come on, partner. There are forms to fill out and questions to answer.” He flashed her a wry smile as he pushed to his feet. “And you know how I love paperwork.”

•   •   •

R
ITSUKO PRESSED ICE
bundled in a thin cloth to her swollen cheek. It had been an hour since the guns fell quiet and the Port Authority security detail cordoned off the area, keeping curious spectators away from the bodies. Journalists from the newssheets would be here soon, poking around, sketching the scene, and asking inconvenient questions.
Inconvenient because we don’t have the answers.
It made no sense someone would’ve contracted such a monstrous task.

Maybe he was lying. There
is
no second man.
It was the kind of thing that criminals said to lessen their sentences.
Happens all the time.
Sometimes they blamed Ferisher spirits for whispering wicked ideas into their ears as they slept. She wished she could dismiss the actor’s claims, but there had been just enough proof to support his story.

More to the point, she felt shaky deep inside. Her hands lay clenched on her knees to hide the tremors. More than one constable had clapped her shoulder in the past fifty minutes, others from the Port Authority. They all thought she’d done something to be celebrated—put a bullet in a bad man, dropped him like a dog.

I killed someone today, Grandfather.

She pictured his disapproving face, his voice whispering in her ear.
The dead are with you, always, Celeste. His ghost will never let you rest.

Mikani didn’t seem to be frozen in the same way. At the moment, he was talking to the chief of security, completing the official inquiry. The Port Authority had reports to file as to exactly what had happened. Going forward, the Council would probably request armed constables on the premises. From time to time, inquiries came her way, and she just nodded at whatever Mikani said. She didn’t hear the words anyway; they were blocked out by the sharp report of the gun echoing in her ears. Though she was glad she hadn’t panicked, after she shot the first suspect, it was all reflex and training. Because Ritsuko had been killing the same man in her head for the last hour.