Wolf Island (7 page)

“Statistically, helicopters are not as reliable as airplanes,” Timas remarks, but I pretend I didn’t hear that.

We take our seats. James invites Meera to sit up front with him, but to my delight she sniffs airily and gives him the cold
shoulder.

“You can sit beside me,” I tell her, and with a warm smile she accepts my offer. James glares at me and I smirk back.

Timas takes the seat beside James. He’s fascinated by the banks of control panels. He asks a couple of questions, then observes
silently as James fires up the propellors. I can see Timas’s reflection in the glass. He switches between frowns and smiles
as he watches the pilot at work.

“I’ve saved the best for last,” Shark roars as we rise smoothly. There are headsets with microphones but nobody’s bothered
to put them on. Shark stands, bending to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, and jerks his seat up to reveal a hidden compartment
crammed with guns.

The cabin fills with excited “Ooohs!” and “Aaahs!”, audible even over the noise of the blades. Shark passes the weapons around
to the eager soldiers. I shake my head when he offers me one. I’ve no experience with guns and I don’t want to learn. Magic’s
cleaner and more effective. Meera doesn’t bother with a gun either.

“What about rifles?” Pip shouts, having loaded her gun and jammed it into her waistband.

“And grenades?” Stephen yells.

“Stacks of them.” Shark grins. “We’ll break them out during the journey. It’ll help pass the time.”

Meera and I roll our eyes at each other and turn our attention to the scenery beneath. We watch the ground roll away behind
us, airport hangars giving way to open countryside dotted with farms and the occasional house. After a while the houses multiply,
becoming small villages and towns, feeding into the suburbs of the city where we’re headed for our showdown with Prae Athim
and her werewolf-armed Lambs.

With Timas navigating, we soon locate the building. It looks like any other, lots of glass and steel, nothing special. Luckily
it has a flat roof, and although it’s not intended for helicopter landings, Timas assures us that it’s structurally sound
and will support our weight.

“Headsets!” Shark bellows. When we’re all hooked up, he outlines the plan. “James stays with the helicopter — he’ll hover
nearby after dropping us off. Once we’re on the roof, we’ll force our way down the staircase to the eleventh floor. Terry
and Spenser will stay on the staircase to keep it clear. Leo will take out the elevator. There’s another staircase — Marian
and Liam will head for that. The rest of us will hit Prae Athim’s office.”

“What if she’s not there?” Meera asks.

“Then we’ll find out where she is.”

“Don’t you think that’s a rather heavy-handed approach?” Meera challenges him. “If she’s elsewhere and gets wind of our attack,
we’ll lose the element of surprise.”

“You have another idea?”

“Yes,” Meera says calmly. “We ask them to let us in.”

Shark laughs, then scowls. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely. Politeness often succeeds where brute force fails.”

“Brute force has always worked pretty well for me,” Shark disagrees.

Meera flashes him her sweetest smile. “Let’s try it my way. If it doesn’t work, we can hit them hard, but at least we have
options. If we do it your way, there’s no plan B.”

“It’s always good to have a plan B,” Terry chips in.

“It can’t hurt to try her approach,” James says from the front of the helicopter. I’m sure he’s only saying it to score points
with Meera.

“OK.” Shark shrugs. “Take us in, Farrier. Meera, it’s your show — for now.”

As Meera talks us through her simple plan, we drift in over the building, hover closer to the roof, then set down. James kills
the blades and as silence settles over us, we sit in place and wait.

Security guards soon spill onto the roof. Thirty or more. They’re all armed, but only with handguns.

“A few are ex-military,” Leo murmurs, studying the guards as they fan out. “But most look to have been privately trained.
We could take them with our eyes shut.”

“Leave the
taking
for a while,” Meera says, and slides out of the helicopter. She nods for Shark and me to accompany her. As Shark moves forward,
she tuts and looks pointedly at his weapons — a couple of revolvers and a small rifle strung across his back.

“Do I have to?” Shark pouts. Meera raises an eyebrow. Sighing, he drops his weapons and clambers out in a foul mood.

We take several steps away from the helicopter, then wait, hands in plain sight. One of the guards — an officer — speaks into
a microphone attached to his shirt, waits for orders, then comes to meet us. His troops train their guns on us but keep them
slightly lowered, so if one of them fires by accident he won’t draw blood.

The officer stops a few feet in front of us. He’s wearing a ring with a large gold L set in the center. Prae Athim wore a
similar ring when I met her.

“Can I help you folks?” the officer asks with forced politeness.

“We have an appointment,” Meera replies smoothly.

The officer seemed prepared for any answer except that one. He blinks stupidly. “An appointment,” he echoes.

“With Prae Athim. Could you tell her Meera Flame and Co are here?”

“We’re not expecting any visitors,” the guard says, his voice taking on a slightly threatening tone.

“
You
might not be” — Meera smiles — “but Prae is. Let her know we’re here and I’m sure she’ll authorize our entry.”

The guard looks troubled. He tells us to stay where we are. Moving out of earshot, he speaks into his microphone again. After
a short conversation he calls to us. “Somebody’s coming up. Please maintain your positions.”

The guard returns to the ranks and waits with the others. As he passes orders along, the guards lower their weapons another
fraction. I start to relax. Looks like they don’t mean to turn this into a shooting match. At least not yet.

A couple of minutes later, as Shark fidgets, the door to the roof opens and a tall, handsome, tanned man emerges. He’s wearing
a suit, but no tie. His hair looks like a film star’s, thick and carefully waxed into shape. He smiles smoothly and his teeth
are a perfect pearly white. Meera’s right hand shoots to her hair and she tries to pat it into place, suddenly irritated by
the sharp wind whipping over the rooftop, making her job impossible.

“Good afternoon,” the man says, stopping closer to us than the guard did. He has a smooth voice. “My name’s Antoine Horwitzer.
How may I be of service?”

“We’re looking for Prae Athim,” Shark says as Meera gazes open-mouthed at the man. He nudges her in the ribs and she recovers
swiftly.

“Yes,” she snaps, a red flush of embarrassment spreading from the center of her cheeks. “We have an appointment. Is she here?”

“One would expect her to be present if one had an appointment and had flown in by helicopter to keep it,” Antoine chuckles.
“But I don’t believe you really arranged a meeting, did you, Miss… ?”

“Flame,” Meera says with a nervous laugh. “Meera Flame.”

“She already gave her name to the guard,” Shark growls, eyes narrowing.

“Indeed,” Antoine says with a little nod. “I was being disingenuous. I wanted to see if she would give the same name again.”

“Why shouldn’t she? It’s her real name.”

“And you are… ?” Antoine asks.

“Shark.”

“No surname?”

“No.”

Antoine’s smile flickers. Shark can be intense. He’s staring at the man in the suit as if pondering whether or not to cut
his heart out and eat it.

“If Prae’s here, she’ll vouch for us,” Meera says. “You’re correct — we don’t have a scheduled meeting. But she’ll want to
see us.”

“What about the rest of your group?” Antoine asks, smile back in place. He waves at the soldiers in the Farrier Harrier. “I’m
no expert, but those guns don’t look like toys. Will Miss Athim welcome armed thugs as well?”

“They’re our traveling companions,” Meera says. “They mean no harm.”

“What if I asked them to dispose of their weapons and leave the helicopter?”

“No,” Shark barks before Meera can answer.

Antoine’s brow furrows, giving the impression that he’s thinking this over, but I believe he knew exactly what he was going
to say before he set foot on the roof. He doesn’t look like a man who leaves much to chance.

“I can’t admit you unless I know why you’ve come,” Antoine says eventually.

“We can discuss that with Prae if you tell her we’re here,” Meera replies.

“You’re fishing,” Antoine chuckles. “You want me to reveal whether or not she’s in the building. But I’m not prepared to tell
you unless you answer my questions first.”

“It’s not your place to make a call like that,” Meera says icily. “Prae Athim is the CEO. I don’t know what your position
is, but if you —”

“Actually, there’s been a recent managerial shift,” Antoine interrupts. “I am the current chief executive. If you wish to
proceed, you’ll have to deal with me. Otherwise…” He shrugs.

“You’ve replaced Prae Athim?” Meera asks, startled.

“Not in so many words,” Antoine answers evasively.

Meera shares a glance with Shark. He’s frowning uncertainly. She doesn’t look sure of herself either. I decide it’s time for
me to step in. I’ve been standing idly on the sidelines long enough.

“We’re here to talk about werewolves,” I mutter, drawing my shoulders back to create as much of an impression as I can.

Antoine blinks, his smile crumbling. “And you are…?”

“Grubbs,” I tell him, then correct myself. “Grubitsch Grady.”

“Ah. I’ve heard of you. Dervish Grady is your uncle.”

“Yes.”

Antoine doesn’t scratch his head — I doubt he’d ever resort to such a common gesture — but his fingers twitch and I think
that’s what he’d like to do.

“Werewolves attacked Dervish,” I say softly. “At his home. In a team. Backed by people with guns.” I stare pointedly at the
guards.

“This is an interesting development,” Antoine says after a short pause. He looks down at his highly polished shoes and this
time I get the impression he really is thinking about what to say next.

When he looks up, his eyes are clear. “I think I’d better invite you down to my office. Will you accompany me, please?” He
stands to one side and extends a hand towards the door.

“What about the others?” Shark asks, jerking his head at those in the helicopter.

“They’re not necessary.”

“I want them there,” Shark growls. “Weapons and all.”

Antoine prods at his lower lip with his tongue. Then, with a shrug, he says, “Why not? I’d hate to be mistaken for a discourteous
host.”

Shark’s surprised. This means we either have nothing to fear, or else Antoine Horwitzer has another team within the building
and is confident they can handle ten armed and experienced soldiers.

I think Shark would like to pull out, but we’ve nowhere else to turn. If we flee now, our investigation will be blown before
it’s properly begun. Grumbling to himself, he summons the others, leaving only James inside the Harrier.

“He’s going to start the engine,” Shark tells Antoine.

“To be ready for a quick getaway,” Antoine murmurs wryly. “I’d do the same thing in your position.” He winks at me and I find
myself smiling. I distrust this man — he’s too smooth — but at the same time I like him.

“Shall we?” Antoine asks as the members of Shark’s team eye up the guards, who look a lot more nervous now that they have
a good view of Shark’s Dirty Dozen.

“I’d like you to answer one of our questions first,” Meera says. “Is Prae Athim here or not?”

“Not.” Antoine lets his smile fade. “Miss Athim has been missing for some time. And our core specimens — what Master Grady
referred to as werewolves — have vanished too.”

On that baffling, disturbing note, he leads the way into the building. They might be called Lambs, but as we pass out of the
sunlight and into the gloom of the staircase, I think of them more as Lions — and we’re entering their den.

W
E
walk down a flight of steps, then squeeze into an elevator, just us and Antoine Horwitzer. If he’s nervous about sealing
himself in with nine soldiers, he doesn’t show it. Presses the button for the eleventh floor and smiles pleasantly as we descend.