Game of Stone

by R. L. King

  Stone dropped his gaze, clenching his fists in frustration. “Stefan, I told you before—I’m not a cat burglar. I have no expertise in this sort of thing. Even if you give me a floorplan and specific information on how to defeat her security, that’s not enough time to—”

  “Should you still wish to go, you will not be going alone.”

  He blinked, looking up. “Who would be going with me? There’s no way I’m dragging Verity into this, so—”

  “Are you determined to do this, Alastair? Once again, and especially given the abbreviated timeframe, I would advise against it.”

  He sighed. “I don’t have a choice, do I? If I let this go and potentially thousands of people are killed, I won’t be able to live with myself.”

  “I don’t recall your having quite such an overdeveloped conscience in our past associations,” Kolinsky said.

  “I don’t know—perhaps my friends are rubbing off on me. But whatever’s going on, I’ve got to do what I can. Conscience aside, there’s always the self-interest angle: I’ve no idea where this thing will strike next. It could kill people I give a damn about, in addition to a load of strangers. Hell, it could kill me, if it’s some sort of mass-destruction situation.”

  Kolinsky gave him a look that suggested he didn’t believe that line of reasoning for a second, but he let it go. “Very well. Come with me. We will begin our preparations.”

  Stone didn’t get up yet. “Who’s this person I’m supposed to be working with? Are they here?”

  “No. He will meet you tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure you trust him?”

  “Absolutely. I will personally guarantee his loyalty.”

  Well, that was something, Stone supposed. He followed Kolinsky into another back room of the shop—one where more valuable items were stored.

  In the center of the room, a large roll of paper that looked like an architect’s blueprint lay on a large table. Kolinsky unrolled it and laid it flat on the table, holding the edges down with stone paperweights. It included several pages.

  Stone studied the drawing. It appeared to show a sizeable apartment, at least as large as Desmond’s London place.

  “The figurine set,” Kolinsky said, in the dispassionate tone of a narrator, “is located in a secured area in the penthouse apartment of a woman named Thalassa Nera.”

  “Never heard of her.”

  “You wouldn’t have. She is quite reclusive, travels extensively in search of items to add to her collection, and very few people have seen her true appearance.”

  “But I don’t have to face her directly.”

  “Not if you get in and out before she returns.”

  “Where is this penthouse apartment?”

  “New York City. She owns many properties all over the world, but my sources assure me that the figurines are on display there.”

  “And how do they know that?”

  “Sometimes, she has been known to show off parts of her collection to certain trusted individuals. One of these individuals is perhaps not as trustworthy as she might have believed.”

  “I…see. So I’ve got to break into a high-rise building in New York City without being seen, break into an apartment with world-class magical and mundane security, and get out without being seen. Nothing to it…if I was bloody James Bond,” he added bitterly. “I assume she’s got heavy-duty wards too?”

  “Of course.”

  He looked over the map again. “Well—I’ve known you for a long time, and I suspect you wouldn’t even be bringing this up without having an ace up your sleeve. So suppose you tell me what that is, so I can stop thinking there’s no way in hell I’m going to pull this off.”

  “Actually…” Kolinsky said, eyes glittering, “I have two aces.”

  22

  Almost twenty-four hours later, Stone sat in a small, busy diner in Manhattan. He had a cup of strong coffee in front of him; he’d have preferred a good stiff drink, but that would have been a bad idea, considering what he still had ahead of him tonight.

  He’d been in New York for two hours, and in this particular diner for one of those. Before that he’d been walking, with only his uncomfortable thoughts as company. He still thought he was an idiot for agreeing to this insane scheme.

  Sitting here now, watching the bustle of customers and waitstaff sidestepping each other as they all tried to get where they were going, he had a hard time believing that only a few hours ago he’d been sitting in a conference room back at Stanford, interviewing the latest candidate for the opening in the Occult Studies department. Such a normal, everyday thing to do, while all the while more than half his mind had been occupied with blueprint diagrams, magical security measures, and the fact that Kolinsky had ruefully assured him his sources could not anticipate every eventuality he and his as-yet-unmet partner in crime were likely to encounter.

  The candidate, to both his and Hubbard’s disappointment, had been another dud. Despite her impressive resume, in person she’d been a humorless, stuffy woman—so much so that she’d made even staid Edwina Mortenson look like the life of the party by comparison. When Stone had walked into the room she’d eyed his jeans, black pub T-shirt and disheveled hair with disapproval. Before he’d had a chance to speak, she’d asked him to bring her a cup of coffee, looked at her watch, and wanted to know when Dr. Stone would be arriving. When he’d explained that he was in fact Dr. Stone (and not a grad student, as she’d apparently assumed) she’d been flustered and tried to recover, but still clearly didn’t think much of his professional demeanor. While that in and of itself didn’t suffice as a reason to pass on her, it turned out Hubbard hadn’t gotten on with her any better than he did. Worse, she was terrible at thinking on her feet and had relatively little practical experience, relying consistently on trying to impress Stone with her extensive research. She’d never make it among the smart, irreverent, and snarky collection of misfits who gravitated toward Stanford’s Occult Studies program.

  One bullet dodged, at least.

  That was the easy one, though.

  Stone ordered another cup of coffee and went over the floorplan of the apartment again in his mind. Kolinsky hadn’t been exaggerating when he said this wouldn’t be easy. First, before they could even break in to the apartment, they had to get there—which meant they had to find a way to ascend seventy-five stories. Stone hoped his associate had some ideas about that, since the elevators were no doubt secured, and that was a lot of stairs even to someone as used to long-distance running as he was. And even if they managed to get up there, they’d still have to deal with the wards. Stone was good with wards and was confident he could break even powerful ones—given enough time. But time was something they wouldn’t have much of. They’d need to get in and out fast.

  Where was his partner, anyway? He glanced at his watch; the man was supposed to be there at seven, and it was now almost seven-fifteen. It’s New York City. He probably got stuck in traffic, he admonished himself. Still, he scanned the diner crowd again even though he had no idea what the man he was waiting for looked like.

  He twisted in his seat to check the other side of the diner. When he turned back, he nearly jumped.

  A man was sliding into the other side of the booth.

  “Hey,” the man said, settling in.

  Stone looked him over. He looked familiar somehow, but he couldn’t put his finger on how. Small and thin, the man had sandy-brown hair and a thin, weaselly face. He looked to be in his middle twenties, and was dressed much as Stone was: dark jeans, black T-shirt, and black coat.

  “Good evening,” he said.

  “How’s the food here? My Uncle George says it’s not bad.”

  That was the code phrase Kolinsky had given him to identify his new associate. “You’re late.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. Somebody jumped in front of my subway train and I ended up having to take a cab.”

  “We should get on with it. We haven’t much time.”

  “Calm down. We�
�re fine.” He grinned. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

  “Should I?” Stone studied him in more detail. His voice sounded maddeningly familiar, too.

  “Let me help you a little: last time you saw me, I was in the back of Mr. Kolinsky’s shop, floating in the air like some kinda fly in a spider cocoon. And by the way, your library in England is awesome, but whatever way you organize it is flat-out crazy.”

  Bloody hell, it can’t be. “You’re the man who stole my books,” he said, astonished. “The one who can get through wards.”

  “That’s me. Zack’s the name, if you forgot.”

  Stone stared at him in astonishment. The last time he’d seen this man, he and Kolinsky had laid a trap for him to find out who’d been behind several thefts of books from magical libraries in England. He’d walked away convinced Kolinsky would kill him for having the temerity to breach his shop—though he’d had the presence of mind to extract a promise from Kolinsky that if he didn’t kill Zack, he’d never send the guy against him personally. “I thought you were—”

  “Dead? Yeah, I did too, at the time. Mr. K’s not a guy you want to get on the wrong side of.”

  They didn’t have time for much conversation if they wanted to get this job done in time, but Stone had to know. “So, then, what happened?” Why did he keep you alive? he added mentally, but didn’t say it. He couldn’t help notice that Zack barely resembled the skinny, twitchy little pothead they’d snared in their trap. He still had the casual, laid-back demeanor of a California beach bum, but his hair was neater, his gaze sharper, and he generally looked in far better health. Altogether, he exuded an easy confidence that definitely hadn’t been there before.

  “Not too surprising, when you think about it: Mr. K thought I’d be more useful to him alive than dead.”

  “So you’re working for him now.”

  “I’m kinda on retainer. He got me cleaned up, off the weed, and arranged for me to learn some other skills.”

  “And in return, you do whatever jobs he gives you.”

  “That’s about it. I’m a lot better with wards now than I used to be. Still shit at most other magic, but I don’t need that. I’ve learned enough mundane skills now to go along with the wards that I’m doin’ pretty good these days.”

  Stone could believe it. Zack’s clothes were functional, but obviously well-made and not cheap. “Mundane skills, you said. Given that he’s sent you to me for this job, I’m going to guess he’s turned you into his own personal cat burglar.”

  “Yeah, pretty much.” Zack chuckled. “He was pretty hard on me at first—got me cleaned up, then got me a tutor to teach me the stuff I never learned since I was a slacker in school. Then once I learned that, he got me different tutors. Security systems, lockpicking, electronics—all that kind of stuff. I can get into just about any building now.”

  “Well…that’s convenient,” Stone admitted. Still, this whole situation made him uncomfortable. He had walked away thinking he was leaving Zack to die. That didn’t bode well for trusting the man with his life in a dangerous situation.

  Almost as if picking up on his hesitation, Zack flashed him a grin. “Don’t worry, Dr. Stone. I don’t hold grudges, and I’d have been pretty pissed off if somebody’d broken into my library and jacked my books. You know, if I had one. Still not much for the books-and-study thing. But you don’t have to worry about me screwing you over. And if you’re really worried, here’s something else to put your mind at ease: I gave Mr. K my word when I started workin’ for him. I can’t betray him, and if he says I’m workin’ with you, then I can’t betray you, either.”

  Stone sharpened his gaze, shifting to magical sight to check out Zack’s aura. It was green and untroubled. “A magical oath.”

  “Yup. That was pretty much the condition of not turning me into a pile of ashes and tossing me out with the trash. It’s okay, though—like I said, my life’s a lot better since I started workin’ for him.” He held up his arm, pointing at the sleeve of his coat. “This thing cost five hundred bucks. The old me would’ve spent that on weed—assuming I ever saw that much cash at the same time in my life.”

  Stone had to allow that he had a point—and his aura didn’t flicker in the slightest when he spoke. He seemed relaxed, content, and unruffled. “So—you’re sure you can get us into this place? And back out?”

  Zack settled back into his seat. The waitress came by and he ordered an iced tea. “Here’s the thing,” he said after she left. “I can get us through the wards—that’s one of the things Mr. K really had me work on. I used to only be able to get myself through, but now I can do two. And I can get us past the mundane security. Mr. K cashed in a couple favors and got a detailed write-up of the building’s common security systems. We’ll have to wing it once we get inside, but he’s guessing somebody like this lady’s mostly gonna have magical security.” He pointed at Stone. “That’s your department.”

  “I don’t have the faintest idea of what kinds of magical security someone Kolinsky finds formidable might have.”

  “I’ve got some intel on that too. I can help you with what it’s likely to be, but like I said, I’m shit at dealing with it.” He flashed the grin again. “So, if you think about it, I’m really trusting you more than you’re trusting me. You could screw me over if you wanted to and there wouldn’t be anything I could do about it. So I hope you don’t hold grudges.”

  Stone sighed and finished his coffee. “You get us in there and past the security—I’ll deal with whatever magic comes up.” It was a good thing he’d topped up his magical energy less than a week ago—as much as he still regretted pulling too much power from Phoebe, the extra would come in handy now if he had to do any fancy spellwork.

  “Okay, then. Let’s finish up here. My stuff’s back at my hotel room, which isn’t too far from the building. We’ll go back there and go over some strategy, order some room service, wait for it to get good and dark. I figure we’ll hit the place around midnight. Sound good?”

  “No. None of this sounds good, frankly. I’ll be much happier when it’s over. But at least it looks like we might have a chance.”

  “You’re too pessimistic, man. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “I think I left it in my other trousers,” Stone muttered.

  23

  You ready to do this?” Zack asked.

  They stood in a shadowy alcove across the street from the high-rise that was their quarry. At nearly midnight the foot traffic was a lot sparser than it had been earlier, but a disregarding spell ensured that nobody noticed them.

  “Let’s get on with it,” Stone said. He had a black bag over his shoulder, as did Zack. As they watched the building, he once again went over the plans the two of them had spent the last three hours making. It was a lot of information: Zack had shown him detailed plans of the building, pointed out the locations of security cameras and alarmed doors, and then explained his strategy for getting up to the top floor. He’d made it sound so easy, but Stone knew it would be anything but.

  One thing that worked in their favor: the mysterious woman who owned the penthouse apartment didn’t own the whole building, and as far as Kolinsky’s sources could determine, the rest of it was mundane. That meant the only magical defenses and wards they’d face wouldn’t come into effect until they’d reached the top, or near it. If Zack knew what he was doing, that part should be relatively simple.

  “Okay, let’s do it.” Zack gestured and crossed the street, moving with the unhurried, casual gait of someone out for a late-night stroll. Stone followed in the same manner, glad nobody could hear his heart pounding.

  The building, as indicated in the plans, had office space on the first few floors and residential space on most of the upper ones, with a parking garage underground. The door was locked after hours and required a key-card to get in. Stone and Zack loitered outside, disregarding spell active, and waited near the gate to the garage.

  It was a good thing the disregardin
g spell didn’t require much energy for Stone to maintain, because they had to wait nearly twenty minutes before someone showed up. They watched as a deep red Mercedes pulled up, and a moment later the gate swung open.

  As the Mercedes swept through, Stone and Zack were already moving. Stone used a bit of magic to hold the gate open long enough for them to follow, carefully keeping to the shadows where Zack had assured him the cameras didn’t point.

  The Mercedes kept going, its taillights receding as it rounded a corner. Zack, still remaining in the shadows near the wall, moved further into the garage with Stone close on his heels. He stopped in front of an unmarked door near the center of the garage. “Okay, your turn,” he said.

  The door was substantial, but had only a normal, heavy-duty lock. Stone had no trouble using magic to pop it, and a moment later they were inside.

  Stone had to admit that he’d never have thought of Zack’s plan: using the maintenance elevator to get up to the top floor. He had to keep reminding himself that the building wasn’t a fortress, but just a regular high-rise with offices and residential space. Sure, there would be security to keep all these rich people safe and happy, but it wasn’t as if they were pulling a bank heist or trying to break into the Pentagon or anything. Just keep it together, he told himself. The hard part will be once we get up there.

  They quickly crossed the room to avoid the single camera Zack pointed out, and stood beneath it as they pulled gray coveralls from their bags and quickly donned them. From his pocket, Stone took two pendants on chains and gave one to Zack. When the other man had slipped the chain over his head, he concentrated for a moment and Zack’s appearance shimmered. When it settled again, he’d gone from pale and weaselly to dark-skinned and a little chubby, and his black bag now looked like a metal toolbox. Stone put on his own pendant and concentrated again, turning himself into a tall, gangly young man with bad skin and red-blond hair.