A Plain-Dealing Villain Page 2

  “Bag that. See if you can get anything off the SIM card.”

  Good luck. We’d bought the burners just for this job and paid in cash. If my shoe hadn’t cracked the card, all they’d get from it were the numbers of two other anonymous phones. Phones that, right about now, would be wiped for prints and finding their new home at the bottom of a trash can. I didn’t break the phone to cover my tracks; I broke it to make it look like there were tracks to find.

  “Well hello, Officer,” I said. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

  “Special Agent,” she corrected me. Then she gestured to somebody standing at my shoulder. “Cuff him.”

  Rough hands grabbed my arms and wrenched them behind my back. The steel bracelets clicked tight around my wrists, cool and hard. A cop from Metro patted me down. He gave Harmony a shrug when he came up empty.

  “You know,” I said, “if you wanted to see me, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble. We could have a couple of drinks, get to know each other better…”

  She got up close and personal. Her stare could have burned a hole right through me.

  “Meadow Brand. Where is she?”

  I blinked. “I thought she was with you. You mean she didn’t show up for her hearing? Wow, that’s really surprising. She seemed so trustworthy.”

  “I have had it with you, Faust. You blew it tonight. And now you’re going down.”

  “Sorry,” I said, “never on the first date, not unless you pay for dinner. And you have to take me someplace real nice.”

  Harmony took a step back and looked at me like I was something she’d found stuck to the bottom of her shoe. She turned to the cop at my shoulder.

  “Get him out of my sight. The rest of you, listen up! He wasn’t working alone. I want you to canvass three blocks in every direction. If someone looks the slightest bit wrong, run them in and—”

  The cop shoved me into the back of his cruiser and slammed the door. I wasn’t worried about my partners. I knew Coop was busy teaching his nephew one of the most important survival skills in the book: how to make a clean getaway.

  As for me, I’d have to find my own way home.

  2.

  Harmony let me stew for a while, leaving me alone in an interrogation room. The walls were cinder blocks painted pea-soup green. Bolts held a dented steel table firmly to the floor, and a big one-way mirror showed off the bored look on my face. I got up and paced for a while. Then I jogged little laps around the table. I was checking my teeth in the mirror when the door finally rattled open and Harmony walked in.

  “Sit,” she said.

  I sat. Harmony strolled over to the security camera in the corner of the room, reached up, and unplugged it from the wall. Then she took the chair across from me and slapped a thick folder on the table.

  “You used me,” she said.

  “Perish the thought.”

  “That whole act. Getting Meadow Brand in here, her confession, the whole thing was a con, wasn’t it?”

  I leaned back. “Hardly. You saved about a hundred hostages, didn’t you? I don’t see what you’ve got to complain about.”

  “I told you, Faust. I told you I wanted Lauren Carmichael. She should have gone on trial for what she did.”

  “And I’m telling you,” I said, “you never would have taken her alive.”

  The last time Harmony had seen Lauren, she was a refined and graying captain of industry. The last time I saw Lauren, she was a twisted monster on the verge of becoming a goddess, mainlining drugs from another dimension and sprouting alien plants from her skin. Not the sort of thing you can explain down in central booking.

  “So you murdered her,” Harmony said flatly.

  “I didn’t say that. I wasn’t even there. If you could prove I was, you’d have arrested me for it already.”

  “Right,” she said slowly, opening her folder and leafing through a stack of photographs. “Witnesses did see a yellow Bell 407 taking off from the roof of the Enclave. A Bell 407 like the one at Sapphire Skytours. A business owned—and I’m sure this is a sheer coincidence—by Nicky Agnelli.”

  “Because there’s only one helicopter-tour company in Las Vegas, right? And Bells are such rare models. Now, I’m going to go out on a limb here and bet that his flight logs are spotless. But you already know that, because you already checked.”

  “You’re still working for him.” The way she said it, it wasn’t a question.

  I slapped my hand on the metal table. “Will you let that go? Damn it, I do not work for Nicky Agnelli. We went our separate ways, and that’s that.”

  “All right. Let’s try a different name. Meadow Brand.”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Harmony took a deep breath. She raised her hand and pointed at the dead camera in the corner, the plug dangling from its gray plastic shell. The bracelet on her wrist sparkled in my second sight, reminding me that she knew exactly what I was and what kind of world we both lived in.

  “Faust. It’s just us here. No recordings, no witnesses. Right now I’ve got agents hunting Meadow Brand from here to Miami since she dropped off the radar. You asked me to trust you when you brought her in. I did. Now I’m asking you for one honest answer. Just one. Are my men wasting their time?”

  I looked her in the eye and thought about Meadow’s vulture-picked bones, bleaching out in the desert sun.

  “Bring ’em home,” I said.

  Harmony shook her head slowly. “You son of a bitch. That whole charade. I never had a chance of closing the Carmichael case.”

  “You want me to say it?” I asked her, heating up. “I used you, yeah. There were hostages in that building with mercenaries pointing guns to their heads. You wouldn’t have been able to capture Lauren, and I couldn’t save those people myself. So yes. I lied to you. I lied to you so that a hundred people could survive the night. Are you really gonna tell me you’re mad about that?”

  Harmony slumped in her chair. She looked tired. The harsh fluorescent light over our heads showed the tiny crow’s-feet at the corners of her eyes.

  “So you used my raid as cover, you murdered Carmichael, and then you murdered Brand.”

  “You said that, not me. But let’s say somebody did happen to put Meadow down like the rabid dog she was. So. Fucking. What?”

  “My job is to uphold the law—”

  “Which is why you need people like me,” I said, “because the law isn’t equipped to deal with people like her. I am. You know what the world is like. You’ve touched magic. You’ve seen a demon in the flesh. When you fight, though, that badge means you’ve gotta keep your gloves on. I don’t. I use brass knuckles.”

  Harmony stood up. She turned her back to me, taking a long look into the mirror. I could see her weariness in the reflection of her eyes.

  “The magic,” she said, “runs in my family’s blood. I learned from my mother. She learned from hers. I was a little girl when the spark woke up inside me. I remember…five years old, standing on a stool at the counter next to my mom, learning how to bundle herbs and make a healing poppet. Kitchen witchcraft. Kid stuff. Even then, I knew one thing.”

  She turned to face me. The tired look was gone, replaced by icy steel.

  “My family calls it ‘the gift,’ but it’s not a gift at all. It’s a responsibility. The world is full of monsters, and most of them hide behind human faces. Monsters who prey on the weak and the innocent. I wear a badge because that’s the best way to use what I’ve been given, to shine a little light and send the roaches scurrying.”

  I tried to look nonchalant, but I couldn’t shake the tension in my chest, the fight-or-fight reflex poking its head up. I felt like I’d walked into a lioness’s den and I was the only food for miles.

  “Then I see someone like you,” she said. “You’ve got the gift, just like me, but what do you do with it? You steal. You swindle. You kill. You know what I think, Faust? You’re worse than Meadow Brand. She was a psychopath. You could be a better man. You just a
ren’t.”

  I rested my palms flat against the cold steel table and leaned forward. The tension faded fast, and anger flooded in to fill the empty spaces in my heart. Just like it always did. My faithful companion.

  “We’re just going to pretend I didn’t help save people’s lives, is that it? Is that how we’re playing this?”

  “Right,” she said. “Daniel Faust, the knight in tarnished armor. Is that the lie you tell yourself, so you can sleep at night? Pretending you’re not a selfish, hungry void of nothing that corrupts everything he touches. Everything you did was a means to an end: murdering Lauren Carmichael, so you could satisfy your little vendetta. Look me in the eye. Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong. You wouldn’t have given two shits about those people if helping them hadn’t gotten you closer to killing Lauren, and you know it.”

  I slammed my fist on the table and shot to my feet, knocking my chair back. It clattered to the concrete floor as I roared, “She needed killing!”

  I froze. My fingernails dug into my palms. Harmony just stood there. She looked anything but impressed.

  “We’re done,” she said softly. “This little song and dance is over. I can’t hang anything on you yet, but I can keep you off the street while I look for evidence. Tonight made sure of that.”

  “You can’t be serious,” I said. “You’ve got nothing.”

  “I’ve got you attempting a burglary at the Laramie Brothers Tool and Die Company. I’ve also got a judge who owes me a favor, and he’ll make damn sure you’re treated as a high flight risk. You’re headed for a cell, and by the time you get out I’ll have a laundry list of serious charges waiting for you. Daniel Faust, you are under—”

  The door swung open, and a man wearing a sharkskin suit and a thousand-dollar smile swept into the interrogation room.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” he said, wagging his finger at her. “Finishing that sentence could be hazardous to your career’s health. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

  When Harmony Black and her task force came to town, my girlfriend promised she’d find the best lawyer around. That was Perkins. He was so slick he didn’t have fingerprints—literally—and I’d gotten the impression he’d been practicing law for a very long time. As in centuries.

  “And you are?” Harmony said.

  He snapped his fingers, producing a crisp white business card out of nowhere.

  “Perkins, J.T. Perkins, and I’m here to represent the man you have been busy persecuting. Tell me, is it routine FBI procedure to interrogate a suspect without his lawyer present?”

  “He consented.” She narrowed her eyes.

  “Let’s see if I have this straight. You initially targeted Mr. Faust under the mistaken and entirely unfounded belief that he’s a member of the Agnelli crime syndicate. A belief you have yet to provide a shred of proof for. Now you’ve brought him in for a burglary that, unless I’m mistaken, didn’t actually take place.”

  “He was in the process of breaking into the building,” she said. “We caught him in the act.”

  Somehow, his smile grew even broader.

  “Really? He was in the building? Was he even in the parking lot? One of your colleagues says he wasn’t.”

  “How did you—”

  “Did my client have any burglary tools in his possession? Lockpicks? A crowbar hidden up his sleeve, perhaps?”

  “No, but—”

  “So he had no way of accessing the property he was supposedly there to burglarize, and he wasn’t even apprehended on said property. Very disappointing, Agent Black. A rookie police officer on his first beat wouldn’t make that arrest, and you know it. Your zeal to imprison my client speaks to the prejudicial nature of your so-called ‘task force.’ This isn’t a lawful inquiry; it’s a witch hunt.”

  I could almost hear Harmony’s teeth grating.

  “You have two choices.” Perkins ticked them off on his fingers. “One, release my client at once, and we can pretend this never happened. Two, you can proceed with this travesty, I’ll have the case dismissed before you can say ‘wrongful arrest,’ and my next call will be to your deputy assistant director to discuss a lawsuit against you, her, and the entire Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

  Harmony leaned against the table with one hand. Her shoulders sagged.

  “You want him?” she said. “Fine. Take him and leave.”

  Perkins opened the door, ushering me toward it with a grand sweep of his arm like he was rolling out a red carpet.

  “Faust,” she said, “one last thing.”

  I stopped and looked back at Harmony. Her body language said defeat, but the fire in her eyes told a whole different story. The lioness was still in there. Hungry. Pacing. Ready to break loose.

  “Tonight was just an appetizer,” she said. “If you even think about pulling another heist, I’ll be there. If you rob a bank, I’ll be in the vault waiting for you. If you so much as shoplift a candy bar, I’ll be standing right behind you in the convenience store. Remember this room, because you will be back here. Soon.”

  “Admission of the intent to harass my client,” Perkins said archly.

  “Go fuck yourself,” Harmony told him. Then she swung her gaze back my way. “You want to fight with brass knuckles, Faust? Fine. I’ve got a pair of my own. I’ve seen all your little tricks, all your fancy moves. You’ve got nothing left. But as for me? I haven’t even broken a sweat.”

  Perkins steered me out of the room, double-time, but I couldn’t shake the fear that turned my palms clammy.

  I was afraid she might be right.

  3.

  Perkins had a present for me: my keys, my wallet and my personal phone, all the things I’d left in his hands for safe keeping while I tried – and failed – to make a little cash that night. He’s a full-service lawyer. I had a text waiting on my phone. Meet me at the usual place, it read. Have something for you.

  Perkins leaned over my shoulder, not bothering to be subtle as he read the screen. A cool night wind ruffled my hair. He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

  “Communications from Nicky Agnelli? As your attorney, I advise keeping your distance. Why, unlike yourself, that man’s a notorious criminal. Allegedly, of course.”

  More than a criminal, Nicky was the biggest racket boss in Las Vegas. The feds and the corporate-owned casinos might have chased the old mob out of town decades ago, but there was still plenty of crime to go around, and Nicky had his claws in almost all of it.

  I used to work for Nicky as his “hired wand,” greasing the wheels and helping his crews out with a little black magic. Then things went south in the worst way, and I cut ties. Later he tried to hire me back. When I said no, he tossed me to a pack of feral halfblood demons. Not long after that, he helped take down Lauren Carmichael, saving the world in the process.

  What I’m saying is Nicky and I had a complicated relationship.

  “Whatever he’s got for me,” I told Perkins, “I’m pretty sure I don’t want it. Just like I’m pretty sure I’d better go find out what it is.”

  “Have it your way, but remember: the attorney-client bond is a partnership. I can’t help you if you don’t help you.”

  “Thanks. Any other advice?”

  Perkins looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. The air glowed from the lights of the Strip, and a great white beam shot straight up over the city to brush its finger against the face of the moon.

  “Yes,” he said. “Leave town. Mr. Agnelli is the target Agent Black’s task force is here to snare. You’re the target she wants. It’s personal now. May I suggest Bora Bora? It’s quite nice this time of year. Waterfront cabanas, coconut drinks…”

  Sure, I thought. I can just blow town and fly overseas with all the money I don’t have.

  Winslow and his biker buddies weren’t going to let me skate on my debt much longer. Didn’t help that a run-in with a pack of fanatics called the Redemption Choir had left me homeless, with my best gear, my occult textbooks, and a
cash-stuffed mattress all gone in the flash of a Molotov cocktail.

  Perkins was right. Any thief worthy of the name knew when it was time to lie low and let the heat simmer down. Before I could do that, though, I needed operating capital.

  Like it or not, I needed a fast score. And I was going to have to pull it off right under Agent Black’s nose.

  * * *

  The Gentlemen’s Bet was a dive strip club in a part of town where the tourists didn’t go. Not the smart ones, anyway. They were closing up by the time a taxi dropped me off in the parking lot, pushing out the last drunken stragglers as dawn lurked at the edge of the city.

  I’m getting too old to pull an all-nighter, I thought, rubbing my eyes and handing the cabbie a folded twenty. Working past three in the morning was fine when I had a heist and an interrogation to keep my adrenaline pumping, but the slow ride across the city gave my body plenty of time to realize how long I’d been running without a break. I trudged up the “red carpet”—a runner of Astroturf spray-painted scarlet—and the bald, burly bouncer out front gave me a nod before pushing open the door. Closing time or not, I was always on the list here.

  The mirrored stage stood empty, the speakers dead quiet, with only the hum of a vacuum cleaner pushed by a bored-looking janitor to break the silence. I made my way over to the bar, where Nicky’s bartender—a frizzy-haired woman in her late forties with hard eyes and stale cigarettes on her breath—was going through the motions of wiping everything down. She looked as tired as I felt.

  “Nicky free?” I asked, jerking a thumb toward the back hallway.

  “Not yet. He’s got another guest. Said I should have you wait here. Want a drink?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t want to put you out. Looks like you’re ready to head home.”

  “You sure?” Something glinted behind her eyes, a little spark of mischief. “Nicky’s buying.”

  Nicky’s people were loyal—they were too scared not to be—but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t tweak his nose if they got the chance. I knew the feeling.