Shade City (17 page)

I waited as a couple strolled by, whispering in each other's ears. Then, when I was alone, I approached another staircase that was cordoned off. I didn't see anybody watching it, above or below. As quietly as I could, I descended to the outdoor cafe.

Rows of plastic tables and chairs filled the platform. Glass windows revealed the same inside, but the doors were locked. Everything was hushed out here. Nobody was around. Even the techno music seemed to lack access to this restricted area and did its best to quiet itself. Without a crowd for cover, I felt strangely out of place, and I knew acting with temerity here would spell danger.

As I snuck around the dimly lit plaza, I noticed a man in a suit near the front of the building, away from the cafe. He appeared to be guarding a door. I was betting it was unlocked.

"No way," I said quietly. "This is a party, just like every club we've worked. People will always believe you're an idiot before they suspect any wrongdoing."

"Some of them, maybe, but that guy? If he was smart or important, he wouldn't be standing next to a door." After staking out the scene for an acceptable length of time and not seeing any activity, I lit a sage cigarette.

"When am I not?"

The man in the suit spied me before I wanted him to, but I approached him with the confidence he would have expected from a drunk.

"You can't be here," he said.

"Yo," I started, ignoring his comment and talking in a whisper to draw his curiosity, "have you seen two hot chicks walking around out here?" I looked back and forth as if they were just around the corner.

"No one is out here. You need to go."

I took a drag from my cigarette and looked him over. The dude was about my height but I could see his biceps through his jacket. He obviously worked out and could handle himself in a fair fight, but he was a young guy, and we all had our weaknesses.

"Sorry, I know, but the thing is, they said they were desperate for these." I flashed him the pills I had bought. "They didn't have any money, if you know what I mean."

The guy smiled. I had disarmed him of any suspicion, at least. "Good for you, but you're gonna need to get your blowjob somewhere else."

I chuckled and leaned against the wall, close to him. "If only. You should see these chicks. One of them is a spinner, a tiny body with an even tinier dress. She has amazing lips. And the other, she has curves for an Asian chick. I think her boobs might be fake. The small one has pale skin and the other has kind of a permanent tan. Let me just say that I slipped some peeks and I haven't seen any tan lines yet." I looked to the bouncer and leaned in. "You sure you haven't seen those girls wandering around? They said they were gonna be at the cafe."

The guy raised his eyebrows and relaxed his strong features. "I would know if I'd seen those two chicks."

I nodded. "You wouldn't believe it. So get this. They didn't want to give me a blowjob. Said they were too good for that or something." I rolled my eyes, a bit too much, I thought. I was having fun describing Eva and Liz as nymphomaniac groupies. "But I think they're lesbians or something, because they told me, if I gave them the molly, they would kiss and touch each other while I watched."

"I don't know," said the guy. "It sounds like you're giving your stuff away too easily. Just to see them make out?"

I slid along the wall, next to him. "Without their dresses on."

He kind of bounced his head up and down as he considered the trade. "Still..."

"They're not wearing any underwear."

"Well shit," he said. "Why didn't you mention that?"

I smiled. "You sure you don't mind if I wait around for at least one smoke?" I pulled out my pack and offered him one before he could realize he hadn't invited me to stay. "Listen, dude, if we tell them you work here, I'll bet they'd let us both watch."

The guy pondered my offer quietly. He pulled the cigarette to his lips and I lit it.

"But no touching," I stressed. It was almost too good to be true, and I didn't want him thinking I made up the entire situation. I gave out enough to entice him but dialed it back enough to be plausible. "They made me promise."

He smirked and took a drag. "No problem. I get paid to keep an eye out, anyway."

We laughed and settled in to our smokes.

Cigarettes aren't a great habit. I don't like the health ramifications, but I've done worse. To be honest, I only smoke socially or for utility. There's a kinship among smokers. Even more so, now that it is going out of style. Smoking is the last vestige for men to have quiet moments with each other. It's a way to do something without doing anything at all. And, especially in times like this, smoking is a way to kill some time without asking for any other pretense to fill the void.

"This is a nice place," I said after a minute had passed. "Have you seen that Tesla Coil inside?"

"I've never been here before."

"No shit? You should check it out before you leave. Maybe they'll let us turn it on."

He shook his head vigorously. "Can't do it." The guy cleared some phlegm from his throat. "The big dogs are inside tonight. It's closed to the public."

I noticed his every mannerism. The way he talked. The way he smoked. I could tell he was one of them without even touching him. The question was, how strong was he?

"Different pay grade, huh?" I asked.

"You know it."

He coughed after his answer. "What kind of cigarette is this? It's pretty harsh."

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's a clove. From Indonesia. I think they're illegal now." I laid down the standard peer pressure stuff. Trying to make it sound casually cool. "Pretty good, huh?"

He inhaled again. "I guess."

After I had given my pack to Catriona, I made a new batch. Since I had trouble with Soren and Bedros seemed immune, I upped the ratio of white sage in the recipe. It was more obvious now, but discretion was only valuable when the subterfuge worked. Alexander Ambrose had called me a hammer. Sometimes, to get the nail in, you needed to pound harder than usual.

The bouncer took a hasty step away from the wall and caught himself. He tossed the cigarette and shook his head rapidly, as if he was snapping himself awake.

"Watch it," I said, "you don't want the big dogs to see you slacking."

He leaned forward and put his hands on his knees for support. He spit on the cement. "Hey, listen. I don't see these lesbian sluts anywhere."

"Well, if they were sluts then they'd also be liars."

"What?" he asked, turning his head to look at me for a second. "Why do you say that?"

"How many times have you ever seen someone admit to being a slut?"

"Right." He tried to chuckle and let his head fall again. "Okay then, I guess you should go."

I nodded but remained leaning on the wall. I looked up and down the stone platform as I finished my cigarette. Save for the muted beats in the distance and the occasional coughing and spitting, the area was silent.

"About that," I said, approaching him. "What if I were to go inside instead?"

The guy's face became muddled. He struggled to stand up straight. "That would be a bad idea."

"Why is that? Who's in there? The Royals?"

He stiffened and latched on to me, pressing me to the wall. "Who the hell are you?"

I stayed there for a moment, watching as the bouncer used what little strength he had left. Then I casually swiped his hands away. Without me supporting his weight, he buckled to his knees, coughing.

"I'm just a guy," I answered. "Why does everybody always ask me that?"

The dude struggled to remain upright. He didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry to inform you that Red Hat may have overstated the type of life they could offer you."

"You mother—"

The man collapsed. I rolled him over and leaned him against the wall, to make it look like he was sleeping. He would probably wake up within minutes, devoid of the stranger.

"Finally," I said to Violet. "Something came easy." Then I slipped inside the observatory.

* * *

It had been a while since I'd visited the museum, but the high marble walls and fancy tiles were familiar to me. As I entered the hall, the faded music outside re-energized and echoed through the chamber. There were speakers inside conveying the outside performance, although the source of the music was still farther away. This was good. I could identify Soren's post-modern techno in case he started a set.

The museum was dark, only lit for mood. Maybe John was right. I would only find people fucking groupies in here. But I had to check. And everything here was empty. This wasn't the main part of the museum with the displays, but this was where Red Hat had chosen to have the entrance. They had to be close.

I walked lightly, making sure my sneakers didn't make a sound on the old tiles. It was strange walking in a public area like this when it was abandoned, shut down. I felt like a cat burglar who had broken in, searching the place for treasures. There was something cool about that. It made it feel more like a mission. But then, it also made it more dangerous.

I heard some laughing ahead and immediately pressed myself into an alcove. Two guys, maybe three. I peeked out but didn't see anyone. Then I heard footsteps from the group dispersing. A door closed. I waited but no one came my way.

Fuck. What was I doing here? What was I supposed to say if I got caught? The drunk routine wasn't likely to fly inside.

After seeing I was safe for a bit longer, I resumed my careful advance down the hallway. Still no people in sight, but the music was getting louder. It sounded as though the audio was coming from my flank. As I walked by a door, I pinpointed the source.

The door was skinny and made of wood, with a detail outline of antique brass to match the doorknob. It was snug in its marble frame, the product of an era when precision mattered, so I couldn't see if any light was on inside. I pressed my ear against the wood. The music was definitely coming from within.

I peered up and down the empty hall and took a breath. I had to enter. Everything I had done so far would be wasted if I didn't open the door. But I just stood there, thinking of the consequences of announcing myself.

I nodded as I slid the Hamilton into my pocket. She was right.

It made no matter. I didn't open the door. Someone else did that. It swung past me and a stout man with a large belly and a bushy mustache stood on the threshold. He wore black leather pants around his tree trunks of legs. A white wifebeater clung to his enormous mass. There was some kind of weird metal jewelry around his neck. He looked like a Mexican old-timey circus strongman. The sort of dude that would play the bad guy's henchman in a Hollywood production. And he was not pleased.

His bushy eyebrows crinkled over his face in befuddlement. Then his eyes darted past me and his mouth began to open in the formative stages of a wide scream.

He was about to call out to the others.

I charged forward, barreling my shoulder into his round gut. Immediately, the second shadow within became apparent. My focus, however, remained on dislodging the large man from the floor. His weight pressed soundly against me—but he wobbled. I'd caught him off-guard. He only managed a "humph" before he lost his footing and collapsed backwards.

The strongman's back crashed into a coffee table. It was made of old wood and had a metalwork binding, like an antique trunk. The table was wide and low and solid. His back crunched against it; it didn't buckle in the slightest under his weight. There were several laptops on the table that didn't fare so well. His body smashed one and knocked another off. It was a hard landing, and the man wasn't getting up quickly.

I looked behind me, out the door, and didn't see any reaction to the sudden commotion. With that piece of good news, I pulled out a cigarette and closed the door.

"What are you doing in here?" I asked, inhaling the smoke calmly into my lungs.

This was a small sitting room. Just enough space for a low table, four velvet chairs, and a buffet sideboard. The carpeted room had a warmth to it that contrasted with the metal chandelier.

The man was splayed out over the table with his arms hanging over his head on the other side. I stepped around to look at the LCD screens and saw video streams, multiples on each monitor, of the party. Security video. He was watching the DJs, the bar, and the exterior. I couldn't see all of it because at least one of the laptops was under him.

As he stirred, I unplugged the nearest computer and tied his wrists together with the power cable. Up close, I saw the metal band around his neck wasn't as crude as it had looked. It was solid but had an intricate design etched into its mass. The weirdest thing was that I couldn't see how it came on and off.

"You're security, huh?" I blew some smoke into his face. "Except you weren't standing by the front door, so you're more important."

He growled and I pilfered another cable. That's when I noticed there was no other wiring in the room besides the power cables for the computers and speakers. The video surveillance and audio feeds must have been streaming over Wi-Fi. Pulling the cables wasn't even turning the laptops off, as they had their own batteries. As the man began to grumble louder, I turned the dial on the speakers to increase the music volume. Infected Mushroom. An Israeli Psy-Trance duo. Nice.

I bobbed my head as I tied the cable to his left foot. When the strongman saw what I was doing, he pushed against me with his leg. I tried to force his feet together, but his ankles were too wide to grip. He found the agility to sit up. Bound hands careened towards me. My arm blocked the shot but I was pushed back. The strongman lifted his massive frame off the table.