“No,” I replied, an unsettled feeling taking up residence in the pit of my stomach.
“Oh. Then she must be, uh, kidnapping that baby,” Maya said, pointing to the vid window. I came over to check for myself. Sure enough, there were Pratt and Crowder, the former with a swaddled baby held in her arms, the latter keeping an eye out for security or anyone who might try to stop them from, y’know, kidnapping a baby.
“Okay, that’s a new low, even for Crowder,” I growled, rushing across the room as fast as my wounds would allow me and grabbing my equipment. “C’mon, Kimiko. Rally the troops. I think it’s time we had a final confrontation.” I paused to consider. “Another final confrontation.”
└●┐└●┐└●┐
Once Maya had a lock on them, it was easy to keep track of Pratt and Crowder. Maya simply switched cameras as they progressed away from the Currie Medical Center and made their way across town to a safe house, where they promptly went off the grid. A couple of the ninja went by to see if they could find our enemies, but they had no luck. But while the ninja may be master assassins and warriors, they weren’t trained detectives. As much as I might have liked to sit this one out, I needed to be out in the field, looking over the clues and figuring things out. Maya got the address to the safe house and forwarded it to my personal machine as Kimiko and I headed for the door.
“Be careful, Eddie!” Miss Typewell called after us. “I’d hate to have to find another job.”
“Yeah, yeah, snark it up, Ellen,” I said over my shoulder as Kimiko opened the door.
She never got the chance to step through it, though, as Carmen—Crowder’s able-bodied bodyguard—was standing there, waiting, and put a knife in Kimiko’s abdomen. The ninja hissed between her teeth and collapsed into a heap on the floor, curling around the knife and trying to staunch the flow of blood from the wound. I backed up in surprise and confusion, and Carmen came into the room, brandishing a new knife that glinted and flashed in the dim light of the warehouse office.
“Oh, crap,” I mumbled, continuing to backpedal. Carmen lunged, a feral hunger in her eyes, and lashed out competently with that knife of hers. I tried to dodge back, and mostly succeeded. The blade only gave me a gash across my left forearm, but the edge was so sharp I barely even registered the hit until I moved into a defensive pose and noticed the blood oozing from the fresh wound.
Carmen stood there, arms hanging limber at her sides, the knife gripped loosely in her right hand. “Hazzard, you bastard, I’m going to enjoy this,” she said, flourishing the knife casually again as she advanced on me. My arm suddenly felt like it was on fire where she’d cut me; I couldn’t tell if it was because it was a bad wound or if she’d poisoned the blade somehow.
“Hey, Carmen, maybe we can talk about this,” I said, backing away from her again.
“There’s nothing left to say, idiot,” she replied, rocking back on the balls of her feet as she prepared to strike.
Maya came out of nowhere, grabbing at Carmen’s knife hand and slamming into the larger woman with all 90 pounds of her computer geek self. Carmen was bounced against a desk, the knife buried up to the hilt in the composite wood. Carmen snarled in animalistic rage, grabbed Maya by the hair, and pulled her off. Before I could move, Maya was thrown across the room, slamming against a filing cabinet with a clattering commotion. Carmen turned back to the desk, grabbed the handle of her knife, and yanked it out of the wood with a dull sound in one smooth motion.
Miss Typewell hit her next, from behind, a chair held in front of her like a battering ram. She pushed Carmen over, knocking Crowder’s enforcer off her feet. The knife clattered across the floor, skidding to a halt under my desk chair. I leapt over the desk, but didn’t stick my landing; I caught the arm of my chair in my midsection, knocking the wind out of me and knocking the chair over. I collapsed on the floor in a tangled heap with the chair, flailing for the knife as I landed. I managed to grab it and struggled upright, sucking in as much air as I could without straining my stitches further. Meanwhile, Carmen had righted herself and whipped her left leg around in a long arc, clicking Miss Typewell’s ankles together and dropping her to the floor. Ellen went down with a startled yelp, her chair flying from her hands and catching Carmen in the temple. The enforcer cried out as well, falling back and hitting her head on the floor.
Grabbing the corner of the desk, I was able to stand up straight and take in the scene. Miss Typewell was getting back on her own feet, using the chair as a crutch. Maya was stirring across the room, but seemed to be having trouble moving. Kimiko was still a curled-up ball of stabbed ninja by the door. Everything that had happened from Carmen’s entrance to this moment had taken less than 90 seconds. If we didn’t end things soon, I wasn’t sure we’d survive the next 90.
Carmen was already on her feet again, another knife in her hand. I had no idea where she kept getting those damn things. Miss Typewell was mere seconds from doing an impression of a pincushion. Acting fast, I took aim and hurled the knife I’d found under my chair at her as hard as I could; it spun in midair, hitting Carmen in the back of the head handle-first. Carmen clutched at her head and turned around, at which point Miss Typewell raised her chair high and brought it down on Carmen’s head, shattering the plastic chair and dropping the enforcer like a dead weight.
I came around the desk at a fast hobble, kicking away the knives from Carmen and giving her a quick pat down. My cursory examination turned up a half dozen other knives of various shapes and sizes. Meanwhile, Miss Typewell checked on Maya, helping her up carefully and directing her to a chair that wasn’t in pieces. I went back around my desk and dug in one of the drawers and found a pair of handcuffs, which I slapped on Carmen’s wrists.
“How’s Maya?” I asked Miss Typewell.
“Bruised, but alive,” she replied. “How about you?”
I gestured with my slashed arm and winced. “I guess some first aid wouldn’t be a bad idea.” We both turned to Kimiko, who had managed to sit up and was in the process of pulling the knife out of her own midsection. “Maybe we should take care of the ninja first, though,” I added.
└●┐└●┐└●┐
Miss Typewell snipped the end of the stitches with a pair of scissors and took a roll of gauze out of the first aid kit. “You should be okay, Eddie,” she said, wrapping the gauze around my forearm. “You and Kimiko should probably both still see a doctor, though.”
“I’ve seen enough of hospitals for the time being,” I replied grimly. Kimiko nodded her agreement. “Besides, I’ve got places to be and people to see.”
“Going after Crowder, then?” she asked. I nodded.
“I don’t know what the bastard is up to, kidnapping a, um, kid, but he needs to be put away,” I said.
Maya shuffled into the anteroom, an icepack pressed against her lower back. “Um, Carmen is awake, Eddie,” she said. I stood up.
“Don’t do anything rash,” Ellen said, noticing the look in my eye.
I grinned coyly at her. “Who, me?”
VIII.
Carmen was handcuffed and zip-tied to a chair. I didn’t trust her with just one set of restraints; Carmen had already shown herself to be adept at a number of things, and I didn’t want to take the risk that Escape Artist was also on her resume.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Carmen,” I said as I walked into the downstairs holding area. She strained against the restraints, briefly, letting out a frustrated growl that didn’t sound completely human. “No, I pulled out all the stops when it came to your restraints, ma’am,” I said, “you won’t be getting out without help.”
“Dresden will kill you,” she snarled, her eyes defiant.
“He’s certainly tried a few times already,” I replied, easing myself into my desk chair, “so it would maintain his pattern of behavior. Of course, he’s done a pretty shitty job of it so far, so I’ll take my chances. But that’s not what I’m here to say. No, see, you’re gonna help me stop him.”
&nbs
p; Carmen laughed. “You think I’m the only ally Crowder has, detective? You’re a bigger fool than I thought.”
“Trust me, I’m a much bigger fool than anyone ever suspects. Gives me an advantage, because no one ever figures I’ll do the really dumb things I’m willing to do. But please, enlighten me, who else does Crowder have that’s worth their salt? Pratt? I figured she was brains, you were brawn. The Organization’s goons? Those guys are distracted by anything shiny.”
“Go to hell,” Carmen replied.
“Been there,” I shot back, “but the coffee was crap.”
Carmen simply glared at me.
“C’mon, at least tell me where to find him,” I said leaning back in my chair gingerly.
“Oh, I’ll tell you exactly where to find him,” she said, sneering. “He’ll be here in the next twenty minutes to kill you, you worthless son of a bitch.”
I sat there for a moment, nonplussed. “Well, that’s just downright unneighborly,” I said finally.
└●┐└●┐└●┐
“I put the building on, um, lockdown,” Maya said, pinching vid windows shut around her.
“Doors and windows?” I asked, checking the clip for the popgun for the umpteenth time.
“Yes.”
“Excellent,” I said, shoving the clip home with a click. “Ellen, how are our defenses shaping up?”
“My desk is blocking the front door, but I need some help connecting these battery packs for the windows,” she answered, bent over said batteries with a pair of pliers and a roll of electrical tape on the floor beside her.
“Maya, help her out.” I stepped to the closet and rummaged around for a moment, pulling out two small boxes the size of a deck of playing cards. “Here, take these,” I said, handing one to each of my employees.
“Personal force field generators?” Maya said, examining the box.
I nodded. “If a firefight is imminent, switch them on. You’ll be protected for about two, three minutes. It’s not much, but hopefully it’ll be enough.” Kimiko hobbled back into the main room, and I tossed a force field generator to her as well. She caught it single-handedly, clipped it to her belt, and continued across the room to the cabinet she’d had mounted on the wall. Inside were a half-dozen riot guns, shotgun-like weapons that fired beanbags or canisters of gas, depending on your preference. They also made nice clubs in a pinch.
“How are things looking in the other room?” I asked the ninja.
“We are ready,” she said. Only a couple of her ninja were here with us at the new office. Everyone else had been out trying to find Crowder. We’d recalled them as soon as we found out he was headed our way, but they weren’t going to get back before Crowder arrived.
“What about you?” Ellen asked me as she clipped leads from the battery pack to the frame of the window.
“I’ve only got the three generators,” I replied. “They’re not easy to get ahold of, so I’ll just have to hide behind something thick and safe, I guess.”
Ellen stood up, rubbing her hands together to brush the dust off. “Eddie, why don’t we just run? Or at least call the cops?”
“First of all, I’m pretty sure this place is under surveillance. We wouldn’t get very far before Crowder would hit us. At least here, we get to choose the battleground.
“Second, I tried to call the cops fifteen minutes ago. The phone line appears to be jammed.”
“I could probably unjam them, Eddie,” Maya said.
“You’re welcome to try, but I don’t think it’s electronic jamming. I think they killed power to the cell towers.”
“Oh. I can’t do anything about that.”
I smiled comfortingly. “I know. It’s why I didn’t say anything about it earlier.” I looked around the office, taking in our defenses, and turned to Ellen, Kimiko, and Maya. “I think we’re about ready as we’re gonna get. Don’t try to be heroes, ladies. Keep under cover as best you can, wait for them to make mistakes. Leave all the stupidity to me, ‘cause I’ve had a lot more practice with it than you have.” Ellen and Maya both smiled weakly at that. Kimiko’s expression behind her mask was unreadable, but I felt like she’d probably smiled, too.
Then the window exploded inward. We’d installed reinforced shutters that ought to withstand any small arms fire, but it seemed like Crowder had come with something a little more heavy-duty.
Maya screamed, Ellen gasped, and I cursed a blue streak. Kimiko, despite her wound, bent almost double and scrambled silently to the wall beside the blasted-out window, her riot gun held ready. Bits of glass lay all over my office, and wisps of smoke hung in the air. I pushed at Maya and Ellen, ushering them into the next room and closing the door behind them. “Don’t open for anyone!” I shouted after them, then turned to face whoever was coming through the windows.
The first attacker through the window came in face first, twitching, as he grabbed the metal frame of the window and caught several thousand volts thanks to the battery packs Ellen and Maya had rigged up. I kicked him in the face for good measure, then dove behind my overturned desk as the second guy jumped in without touching the frame and brought his submachine gun up. The gun spat fire as he sprayed bullets in an arc behind me, chewing up the wooden top of the desk but not punching through the thick, ancient chunk of hardwood. The gunman blew through his clip in just a few seconds, and I heard the familiar hollow click of an empty gun locking the receiver into position and a faint curse from the gunman. I rose from behind the desk just in time to see Kimiko bring the butt of her riot gun up in an arc, catching the gunman on the chin and slamming his head back against the frame of the window, where the makeshift defensive zapper got him.
Two more gunmen appeared at the window, guns first, and started spewing bullets into the room. I ducked behind the desk again and caught sight of Kimiko rolling away from the window, her riot gun held across her body.
Then I heard a muffled whump from the other room, and then screaming.
The bullets from the window stopped, so I snapped off a couple of quick shots with the popgun and, without waiting to see if they hit, leapt for the door between rooms, hitting shoulder-first. The door gave way, but so did something in my left shoulder. Inside, I saw Ellen and Maya, held in front of two gunmen, with hands around their necks and pistols to their heads. Neither Ellen nor Maya was squirming or screaming, both brave in the face of terrible danger. I could see Ellen’s hand slowly making its way toward the pocket where she was keeping her personal force field generator. Maya seemed too terrified to move, which might be a problem.
Behind the gunmen, Dresden Crowder came strolling through the ruined remains of the front door of my new office, a cane in his left hand to support his injured leg, still somehow looking much less the worse for wear than I probably did.
“Put that ridiculous gun down, Eddie,” Crowder said, stepping between his two men. “Someone will get hurt if you don’t.” I scowled and threw down the popgun. It skidded to a halt between Crowder’s feet. He bent over and picked it up, regarding it with open contempt. “I never understood why you preferred this thing over a regular revolver, Eddie. Imagine all the pain, suffering, and bullet wounds you could’ve saved yourself over the years if you just shot your enemies like a rational person.” He took in the environs of the new office. “Like the new digs, by the way. I didn’t get to see this part when I was your guest earlier.”
“You know why I don’t usually carry a gun, you bastard,” I said quietly.
“Oh, yes, that unfortunate incident with—what was her name?—oh yes, Miss Evans. I’d guess your two friends here haven’t heard that one.”
“Shut up, Crowder, or just go ahead and shoot me if you plan to keep talking. I’m really not in the mood to hear it.”
Crowder tossed the popgun to the floor. I heard a crack and saw that the gun’s housing had splintered; a chunk of the hand guard was now missing. “Oops, guess I should’ve been more careful with your toy, Eddie.”
“Dresden, what the h
ell is wrong with you? You didn’t used to be vindictive. Underhanded and sly, sure, but not vindictive.” Miss Typewell’s hand was almost to her pocket, creeping along a fraction of an inch at a time. If she could get that force field up, I could make a move toward the enforcer who had Maya while Ellen got away from her own captor.
“Things change, Eddie. And there’s a hell of a lot going on here that you just don’t know about.”
“So, now what? You going to kill me or what?” Ellen’s hand was in her pocket now, and I tensed to jump at Maya’s captor.
And suddenly tensed for a completely different reason: a gun barrel pressed into my kidney from behind.
“Now,” said a feminine voice from behind me that sure didn’t sound like Kimiko, “we find out why you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain in that case you took for me, Detective Hazzard.” I turned around to find Genevieve Pratt standing behind me, gun in one hand, a baby in the other. Behind her, Carmen had been freed and was standing over the prone form of Kimiko. We were all well and truly caught in their trap.
“Well, shit,” I muttered, summing everything up about as succinctly as possible.
IX.
“Detective Hazzard, you had one job. You were supposed to catch Crowder and get him put in jail. Why is it I still find him up and about?” Genevieve Pratt had a bemused look on her face that just left me feeling frustrated.
“Extenuating circumstances, I’m afraid,” I replied. “I’d be more than happy to refund your payment, especially since you appear not to have been murdered.”
“Yes, rumors of my death are completely wrong,” Pratt responded. “Dresden, dear, is there a reason you aren’t in jail?”
“Other than the fact that you hired the single most inept private detective in the city of Arcadia to take care of it?” he asked.
“Hey, now, words hurt,” I said.
“I want a chunk out of him,” Carmen said, stepping up with one of her knives.
“No,” Pratt said, holding up a hand. Carmen, surprisingly, stopped dead, much to my relief and confusion.
Crooked Halos Page 15
