The Big Smoke. Jason Nahrung
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Maximilian stared at the scrunched photo in his palm. Quite the debacle, wouldn't you say, Hunters? Turner is dust and our bovine supply chain shattered; Danica is still at large; Mira is in bedlam. And now the agent of this destruction is here, in my demesne.' His eyes flicked up, settled on Reece. What do you make of that, Hunter?'
'With all due respect, I'm not a Hunter anymore, my lord.'
'And yet, you still hunt. Not well, as it happens. You failed my daughter, and now you let this boy escape again.' He brandished his fist. 'This boy who has a link not only to my former consort, but to my daughter as well.'
Maximilian thrust the photo into his pocket. 'How do you know about this chain of communication?'
'Something Bhagwan said. Before Jasmine dusted him.' Reece ignored Felicity's sudden tensing, trusted to his forty-odd years of bullshitting to vampires and humans alike to gloss over his lie. 'A hunch, my lord. I'm still looking for the proof.'
'Then keep looking, Hunter. Find Slick. Find the traitor who betrayed my daughter.' He turned back to the window, meeting dismissed.
'My lord?' Reece asked.
Maximilian regarded him over one shoulder.
'Matheson. He could lead us to Danica. Danica could cure Mira.'
'Which is the real reason you went after him alone, is it not? The favourite, attempting to protect his mistress.' Maximilian turned away once more. 'Loyalty is admirable, but results speak louder.'
Heinrich showed them to the door. 'Who have you told about this supposed leak, Lieutenant Reece?'
'No one, my lord Preceptor.'
'Keep it that way. Now, do what the Hochmeister has ordered. Both of you. Find this leak. And most importantly: find Matheson. The Strigoi's life — your lives — depend on it.'
Felicity looked paler than usual as they waited for the lift. 'Did he mean it?'
'About offing us? We're red-eyes. Parasites. Tools. We don't have a lot of longevity.'
She leaned against a wall, arms crossed.
'You're young,' Reece said. 'You've got time to recover from this.'
'Yeah, right. Any thoughts about where to find Slick? Surely he'll be so far underground—'
'Come back to my room for a minute.'
'Reece—'
'Business, Flick.'
She rolled her eyes, but accompanied him down to 3. He wondered how long it would take Human Resources to shift him, now that he was no longer under Mira's protection. She had secured him this private room, as close to hers on 2 as she could get. And while GS officers, as he now was, were allocated a room to themselves on this floor, there were higher ranks that would kill for his balcony. The view wasn't great, but you could smoke out there without fear of setting off an alarm.
'You have any joy working out who was in on the Jasmine Turner plan?' he asked once they were inside his quarters with the door shut.
'It was Jensen's op; he's head of logistics, so that makes sense. But all the board knew about it, which means their Familiares and staff.'
'Just them, huh.'
'Yeah, you wanna bring them in for questioning?'
He frowned, as though considering it, and she shook her head to show he wasn't fooling anyone.
'So which of them had something to gain by throwing a spanner in the works?'
'Who didn't?'
'Dead end, then.'
'Unless you can lean on a Familiare and keep their bludger from knowing about it long enough to prosecute.'
He smiled at her use of his old police slang for a pimp — as good a term for a vampire running red-eyes as any other; dealer, maybe? The small satisfaction that he was rubbing off on her couldn't overcome the frustration of trying to investigate people who were untouchable. 'So we're back to Johnny Slick.'
While his laptop booted, he poured generous shots of Bundy, hers on the rocks, the ice cubes about the only thing in the bar fridge.
She turned away from his small collection of pulp fiction paperbacks and a row of CDs that were his music to drink by, as he handed her the glass. They clinked once and he took the chair in front of the computer.
'You're going to google Slick?' She stood behind him; close enough to feel her heat against his shoulder.
She put down her drink and shed her jacket. 'Warm,' she said. Ice cubes rattled as she retrieved her rum. The hard drive whirred. 'You need an upgrade.'
'Tell me about it.'
His back felt cold where she'd moved away. Her subtly floral fragrance lingered. He took a big sip, and then punched the keys in his two-fingered style. She was right; it was hot in here. He loosened his tie while the screen filled with the results of his search.
'This one.' He looked at her over his shoulder, quietly triumphant, just a little desperate. 'I guarantee you Johnny Slick will be here.'
'Roller derby?'
'Not only do the Viscounts play the half-time show, but Johnny Slick's moll is a star player. No way will he not turn up.'
'I heard his band play, once. Technically, not bad.'
'But no soul?'
Typical vampire problem: good at replication, not so good at innovation. Except in scheming. Of animal cunning, they had no shortage.
Felicity kneeled down, one arm across the back of his chair, breast pushing against him, her scent wrapping around him. She pointed at the screen with her glass. 'This next match, it's tomorrow night.'
She pushed on his chair to rotate him toward her, put her glass down, then stepped back and slipped out of her shoulder holster. 'How about we take the rest of the night off?'
TEN
It didn't take long to get to Mel's apartment building in New Farm. The suburb was tucked inside one of the river's meander bends, and the dilapidated concrete monolith was set back from the water, surrounded by a mosaic of fenced-off development sites and exhausted homes waiting for the right offer to end their misery.
Crumpled beer cans glimmered among the sparse stalks that passed for lawn. Graffiti made camouflage patterns on the stairs and walls. Timber doors opened on to a foyer, heavy with mustiness and cat piss. Corridors stretched off but Mel led him to an ancient lift. A yellowed sheet of paper said the outer doors had to be shut for the lift to work.
'Where's Greaser taking the Monaro?' he asked.
'There are a couple of empty garages. It'll be safe.'
He kept his silence as the lift wheezed to a halt. A dim bulb showed initials cut into the wood, graf swirls, chewing gum like zits. She hit the top floor: 7.
'Lucky number,' she said, 'if you believe in such things.'
He grunted, not knowing what he believed in any more. A chip packet lay on the floor. Cigarette butts. A sign said No Smoking.
'It takes its time,' she said, 'but it's much nicer than the stairs. Besides, it's not like we're in a rush, is it?'
Vampire time. He hadn't got used to it, found it maddening. Those weeks in Cairns, learning what he could from Danica, trying to be patient, to not think about the years — the decades, the centuries — ahead. Trying not to wonder how a man filled those days without dropping dead from boredom. Assuming he could drop dead, of course. What was the vampire equivalent? They'd not got to that in his month of Undead for Beginners.
And Kala, she'd become so distant so quickly. He'd expected their relationship to grow stronger, him being her maker and all. Maker. Everyone had a different word for it, but he still hadn't found one that suited him. Violator,