Thief Trap

by Jonathan Moeller

  “I don’t know,” said Russell. “It’s a long drive to Reno. Hopefully, we’ll think of something.”

  ###

  It took us about two days to drive to Reno.

  Russell alternated between driving with me and driving with Murdo, switching over whenever we stopped to visit a rest stop. I wondered what Murdo and Russell talked about. Me, probably, with Russell trying to find out more of what had happened to his sister over the last year. Though I had already told Russell about the Eternity Crucible, and I hadn’t told Murdo. Maybe they would talk about historical novels. Both Russell and Murdo had a fascination with history that I didn’t, and they liked historical novels by some guy named Malcolm Lock. Well, Russell liked them. Murdo only seemed bemused by the fact that Russell really liked them.

  It took us most of the first day to get across the Great Plains states, and we wound up staying at a motel in the suburbs of Denver after we rolled into the city at about 11 PM. For obvious reasons, Murdo and I did not return to the Rocky Mountain Mile hotel where Corbisher and Lorenz had tried to have us killed the first time. Murdo took one room, and Russell and I shared another.

  I did not sleep well, my mind chasing plans and possibilities over and over.

  It didn’t help that Russell kind of snores.

  We got up early the next day and continued driving. From time to time I switched on the radio, but most of the news reports were fawning coverage of the High Queen’s Royal Progress across the United States from Los Angeles to New York, and I didn’t care about that. I turned off the radio and focused on driving.

  We arrived in Reno late the next afternoon.

  I had never been to Reno, and it looked a lot like other smaller American cities I had visited. There was a big cluster of taller buildings downtown, a ring of businesses around that, and then sprawling suburbs and residential neighborhoods.

  Gambling was legal in Nevada. I had been to Las Vegas on jobs for Lord Morvilind, and I knew that various criminal organizations controlled the casinos in both Reno and Las Vegas. The Elven nobles of Nevada let that slide in exchange for a cut of the profits and the criminals keeping their activities discreet. Prostitution was also legal in Nevada, and the criminal outfits likewise rain the brothels.

  The Desert Road Café was in one of Reno’s seedier districts. It was next to a large parking ramp and across the street from a bar and a hotel that advertised a TOPLESS SHOW EVERY HOUR 6PM TO 3AM in red neon letters.

  “I don’t like this,” I said into the CB mike as we drove past.

  “Yeah,” said Russell in the passenger’s seat of my van. “It does look pretty sleazy.” I saw him glance in the direction of the bar that offered the topless show, scowl, and make himself look away.

  “I think she was referring to the lines of sight,” said Murdo over the CB radio.

  “Yeah,” I said as we turned the corner to go around the block. “Between that parking ramp and that hotel, there are hundreds of places Nicholas could hide snipers. Did you see how all the hotel windows looked towards the café? Nicholas could have us covered from the minute we park on the street.” I shook my head. “I think we have to assume that the local Homeland Security branch is under his control, the way it was back in Gary. Else he might not have called the meeting here.”

  “Might just be logistics,” said Murdo. “That map he found in the Royal Bank referenced a place called Last Judge Mountain in Nevada. That’s probably where he wants us to go next.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “All right. Let’s make sure we weren’t followed and then find a hotel on the other side of the city. We’ll come early tomorrow, and I’ll Cloak and have a look around the place.”

  “Might be easier to use your Mask spell,” said Murdo. “Less work, anyway.”

  I shook my head, and then remembered that Murdo was in his SUV and couldn’t see me. “Masks are detectable. If Nicholas has one of the Gatekeepers running a spell to sense magic, they’ll sense it at once. IAnyway, Nicholas is sending someone to meet us at the café, and then we’ll go together to another location.”

  “They say it’s a bad idea to go with a criminal to a second location,” said Russell.

  “It is.” I sighed. “It really, really is.”

  We stayed at another cheap motel on the far side of Reno. The next morning, I secured my van and equipment in a rental storage unit, and we took Murdo’s SUV back to the Desert Road Café. Murdo parked a few blocks away, and I got out, Masked myself as an elderly man until I got to the street with the café, then I Cloaked and took a look around.

  I found absolutely nothing of interest.

  The café was unremarkable. It was nicer and cleaner than I would have expected, given the topless show across the street, but I suppose both topless performers and their audience wanted someplace clean to have coffee. I walked through the booths and tables and checked out the kitchen and the storeroom and found nothing of interest. After that, I broke into the stairwell, paused for a bit to rest, and then Cloaked again and went upstairs, checking out the next two floors. The building’s top floors were devoted to office space, rented out to various businesses, and I saw no trace of anything dangerous. I dropped my Cloak and cast the spell to sense the presence of magical forces and sensed nothing.

  If this was a trap, it was a good one.

  Then again, maybe it wasn’t a trap. The previous two times that I had stolen things for Nicholas, he had dealt straight with me while he still needed me. He only brought the knife out when the job was done. In Chicago, he had tried to abandon me to die at the hands of the myothar and its pet undead. At the Royal Bank, he hadn’t abandoned Murdo and me when the mercury golem had ripped down the stairwell, but he hadn’t tried to help us, either.

  I Cloaked again and walked back to Murdo’s SUV and got in the back seat. Russell had moved to the front.

  “Anything?” said Murdo.

  “Zilch,” I said. “No sign of a trap.”

  Murdo nodded. “Connor probably won’t move against us until he doesn’t need you anymore.”

  “Yeah, I’m still too useful to kill,” I said. That would not stop Nicholas from trying to kidnap Russell as a bargaining chip. “What were you two talking about?”

  “I was wondering why the High Queen and the Elven nobles allowed a place like that topless bar to stay open,” said Russell.

  “Because the mafia bosses who run places like that are loyal to the High Queen,” said Murdo. “Nevada is the only place in the US where prostitution is officially legal, but in all the major cities there are quietly licensed brothels tucked away for men-at-arms on leave to use.” He looked at Russell. “Do you know what the High Queen’s biggest weakness is?”

  Russell looked uncomfortable. Humans were raised to revere the High Queen, and questioning her was not done, ever. Questioning the Elves was elfophobia, which was both taboo and a crime.

  “Incompetent subordinates?” I said.

  Murdo smiled. “All leaders have that problem. No, her biggest weakness is that she values loyalty, discretion, and competence in her followers…but in that order. The Las Vegas syndicate is loyal and discreet, so she lets them operate within certain limits. That was Morelli’s problem. He went beyond those limits, and so the mafia kicked him out.”

  “And into the waiting arms of the Rebels,” I said.

  “So moral fiber isn’t on the list of things the High Queen values?” said Russell.

  “I suspect it is,” said Murdo, “but it’s somewhere behind loyalty, discretion, and competence.” He shrugged. “I think the High Queen’s main interest is keeping order on Earth so she can reconquer Kalvarion from the Archons.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And that’s working out great for her on both fronts.”

  Russell hesitated. “Mr. Vander…kind of said the same thing.”

  “Well,” I said. “The High Queen’s got her problems, we’ve got ours.” I reached for the door handle. “I’m going to check out that parking ramp and the bar, make sure
Nicholas doesn’t have a truck full of anthrophages for us.”

  “Wait.” Murdo passed me a small radio with a belt clip and an earpiece. “That’s a lot of territory to cover. Better call in every ten minutes.”

  “Good thinking,” I said.

  I equipped the radio, Masked again, and got to work.

  That proved to be an utter waste of time. I didn’t find anything in the parking ramp except a bunch of commuter cars and a bored security guard playing a game on his phone. The topless bar was as much of a dive as you might have imagined, with a group of unemployed men leering at bored-looking waitresses in tight outfits, but I didn’t see any sign of Rebels or Dark Ones cultists. I broke into the manager’s office and checked the hotel bookings, but there were no signs of large groups.

  After about an hour and a half of searching, I returned to Murdo’s SUV.

  “Nothing,” I said as I climbed back inside. “I think Nicholas really is using the café as a meeting point.”

  Russell yawned. “Is this kind of thing always so boring?”

  Murdo and I looked at him.

  “You’ve been in a few fights now,” said Murdo. “You know how much work goes into preparation.”

  Russell shrugged. “I figured working as a shadow agent would involve wearing tuxedoes and breaking into casino vaults, that kind of thing.”

  I laughed. “I’ve never robbed a casino. And the best kind of job, brother mine, are the boring ones where nothing goes wrong, nobody notices, and it’s as dull as a butter knife.”

  “Yes,” said Murdo in a dry voice. “Maybe we’ll have one of those someday.”

  I sighed and checked the time on my phone. It was ten minutes until noon. “Let’s go meet Nicholas.”

  We got out and walked to the café. I bought us cups of coffee, and we sat down near the door and waited, the windows giving us an excellent view of the street. Despite the heat, both Murdo and Russell were wearing loose sports coats that let them conceal shoulder holsters, and my mind was ready to summon and unleash magic.

  It was a short wait.

  At precisely noon, Enzo Morelli strolled up the sidewalk and stepped into the door.

  He was a lean man of middle years with a Mediterranean complexion, his expression a blank mask. Gray streaked his dark hair, and he wore a crisp white shirt, black trousers, a black jacket, and gleaming black shoes. His jacket was also loose enough to conceal a shoulder holster.

  He walked to our table and stopped.

  “Miss Moran,” he said.

  Nicholas had told him my real name already.

  “Morelli,” I said. “Are you the welcoming committee?”

  His lip twitched. “Yes. He’s waiting for the three of you. Come with me, and we’ll get started.”

  Chapter 3: Reunion

  “And just where are we going?” I said, getting to my feet. Russell and Murdo followed suit.

  Morelli’s eyes flicked over us. “Only about a mile away. It’s not far. I’ll drive.”

  “Suit yourself,” I said. “You realize, of course, that if you try to screw us over, it’s not going to go well.”

  Morelli snorted. “I do not allow my emotions to color my professional judgment, Miss Moran.” A flicker of irritation went over his face. “Unlike some others. This way, please.”

  We followed him outside. I remained alert, watching for any sign of a trap, but I saw nothing dangerous. Morelli walked for a block and then stopped at an unremarkable Duluth Motors four-door sedan.

  “Rory, take the passenger seat,” I said, stepping to the back driver’s side door. “Russell, next to me.”

  Morelli raised his eyebrows as he opened the driver’s door. “Giving the orders now, are we?”

  “Nah,” I said. I settled in the back, Russell sitting next to me. “Just making sure everyone stays professional. Because if you don’t, if you betray us or take us into a trap, I’m going to make sure the ice spike I cast punches through your heart and pins you to the steering wheel like a bug.”

  Morelli snorted. He seemed amused more than anything else. “That’s something of an overreaction.”

  “Is it?” I said. I knew he could see me in the rearview mirror as he dropped into the driver’s seat, so I smiled my mirthless rictus of a grin. “Lorenz threatened my family. If my patron didn’t have that deal with the Forerunner, I would hunt down and kill every last one of Nicholas’s crew.”

  Morelli started the car, checked his mirrors, and eased into traffic.

  “I always told Connor that Lorenz was an idiot,” he said at last.

  “Guess he should have listened,” said Murdo.

  Morelli did not respond, and we drove in silence for about a mile. We came to downtown Reno proper, and Morelli parked in front of one of the taller buildings. He got out and fed some quarters into the parking meter and beckoned for us to follow him.

  “Remember,” I murmured to Russell. “Let me and Rory do the talking.”

  Russell put his finger to his lips and nodded.

  Murdo, Russell, and I got out of the car and followed Morelli into the building. We found ourselves in the lobby of an expensive-looking hotel, all polished wood and marble and chrome. The lobby even had a fountain, which had to be hideously expensive in Nevada. Morelli walked past the reception counter and turned a corner, and beyond a glass wall and a pair of glass doors, I saw a restaurant. Right now, the restaurant looked closed…save for one table in the center of the room. I spotted a half-dozen people eating and drinking around that table.

  Morelli pushed open the door, and we stepped into the restaurant.

  Nicholas Connor rose from the head of the table and smiled.

  “Well,” he said. “Nadia Moran. We meet properly at last, Kat.”

  I didn’t say anything and came to a stop halfway between the doors and the table, Murdo on my left and Russell on my right. Morelli kept walking, seated himself, reached for a breadstick, and started eating with perfect nonchalance.

  Not counting Morelli, there were five people at the table.

  There was Nicholas, smiling his cold hard smile at me. He was wearing an expensive-looking business suit. At his left sat Hailey Adams. She was wearing a short white dress that fit her like a glove, and she glared daggers at me. At Nicholas’s right sat another man in an expensive business suit, though he didn’t wear it nearly as well as Nicholas, mostly because a bloodrat had tried to bite off his face and had taken off most of his scalp. Martin Corbisher likewise glared murder in my direction.

  The fourth person sat next to Hailey, who studiously ignored him. Mitchell Swathe did not bother with a suit and instead wore a polo shirt tucked into cargo pants. He was middle-aged, graying, and in good shape, with the thick muscles of someone accustomed to hard work and violence.

  The fifth man…come to think of it, I didn’t recognize him. Though he looked somehow familiar. He was big, at least two hundred and fifty pounds, though very little of it was fat. He wore a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and the tattoos on his thick arms were jagged and rough. His black hair was close-cropped, and he glanced at me with the placid indifference of a bear considering a squirrel. Something about his features looked vaguely Russian, and several of his tattoos used Cyrillic script.

  “Miss Moran,” said Nicholas, taking a few steps towards me. “And this must be the famous Mr. Moran.” Russell gazed at him with a blank expression. “A fortunate young man, to have a sister who will go to such lengths to…”

  “Shut the hell up, Nick,” I said, my voice low and hard.

  Might as well get this over with right away.

  Nicholas only smiled. Corbisher and Hailey glared. Morelli remained indifferent, preparing himself a plate of salad. The big tattooed man let out a rumbling chuckle, watching me with cold amusement.

  “Oh?” said Nicholas. “Do elaborate.”

  “We’re done,” I said. “The deal is broken. You sent Victor Lorenz to kill me and attack my family. I don’t forget or forgive that.
Consider this formal notice to my Elven lord that the deal is broken.”

  Nicholas spread his hands. “Lorenz acted without my knowledge and without my permission. Had I known of his intent, I would have ordered him to abandon his plan. I assume he’s dead?”

  “Hard to recover from a gunshot wound to the head and four to the chest,” I said. There was no way I was telling him that Russell had been the one to kill Lorenz.

  For some reason, Nicholas smiled at that. “And Vastarion is dead as well. Such a waste. The man was useful, if rather limited. The Knight of Venomhold will not be pleased. For that matter, I am not pleased. Lorenz wasted a large amount of money and numerous highly skilled orcish security contractors on his little adventure.”

  “Yeah, tragic,” I said. “Bye, Nicky.”

  “Oh, Miss Moran,” said Nicholas. “We’re not finished yet.”

  “Better explain,” I said. I knew what he would say, but I had to play this farce out to its end.

  “Lorenz acted against my orders,” said Nicholas. “I would execute him for his presumption,” both Corbisher, Swathe, and the tattooed Russian guy scowled at that, “but you’ve already taken care of that little detail. All that’s left is to pay appropriate restitution. A million dollars, I believe we agreed. Martin?”

  Corbisher got to his feet, handed an envelope to Nicholas, and sat back down. Nicholas approached me, and I tensed, but he merely held out the envelope. I stared at it for a second and then cast the spell to sense the presence of magical forces.

  There was nothing. At least, nothing from the envelope. I sensed a faint aura of dark magic from both Corbisher and Hailey. Likely they both carried Signs of the Dark Ones, medallions imbued with dark magic that let them open rift ways back to Venomhold. I sensed a similar aura around Nicholas’s jacket, probably from his interior coat pocket.