“Okay, but we keep this quiet. You might be all right with breaking the rules, but I’m more in the trenches when it comes to office politics. And, George, no markers if you take the hitter. No cards.”
“Why?” George asked.
“Because Flynn was also prying into your other assignment. Apparently ‘someone’ left a Knight of Swords on his door.”
“Hmm…”
“No. No card, George. You are not hunting this man. Don’t poke the bear more than you need to, at least not till we have paper on him.”
George sighed.
“You are right. If I interfere, and I haven’t decided I will yet, I will keep it anonymous.”
“Good… thank you. I’ll keep you informed.”
The phone went dead. George sipped his coffee. He had a minor tinge of guilt. He really shouldn’t have lied to her. But at the very least he had already decided to interfere.
He’d have to think about a card.
Thirteen
Griffen was brooding. He had holed up with a whiskey on the very end of the “family side” of the Irish pub bar. Which meant that other than when the bartender and the occasional person headed to the men’s john, he was left alone with his thoughts.
Those thoughts were all about the conclave. He had started to feel more and more overwhelmed, a surge of near panic pushing him out of his apartment late afternoon. He just couldn’t seem to get his head straight and was feeling antsy and nervous. Eventually, he had stopped by the A&P and picked up a new notebook and a pen. His plan was to sit at the bar and write out what he knew, and some of his own thoughts. Mostly he was hoping to pin down some thoughts in words he could organize and examine to get his own head straight.
That notebook was depressingly empty. He had filled up a whole two pages with the various groups supposed to be involved and the little he knew of each thanks to Slim and Flynn. Then he had drawn a blank. His own thoughts were too chaotic to get a toehold on. And he had begun to realize he only had the smallest clue of what actual issues were going to be discussed.
What was worse, he didn’t quite know what a “moderator” was supposed to do. Was it his job to settle debates? Or just hold the peace? How far was he supposed to go to keep order? Much more, how far was he willing to go? Maybe it was just his mood and Irish, but he was beginning to feel even more lost than he had when he first found out about dragons.
He was so wrapped up that he didn’t notice Jerome till he was pulling up the stool next to him. Griffen looked up, eyes not quite tracking, then did a double take and smiled. He reached out and shook Jerome’s hand.
“Hey, Jerome, haven’t seen you around for a couple of days. How are you doing?”
“Same old, same old, Grifter. You?”
“Still trying to get my damn head around things. If the others in charge of this conclave are even a third as disorganized as my head right now, it’s going to be a real mess.”
“Are they keeping you in the dark on purpose?” Jerome asked.
“Possibly. Been thinking just that. I’ve been wondering if maybe I shouldn’t put word out among our network to keep an eye on the delegates. I mean, if I don’t know what to expect, the more viewpoints the better. We might even have to think about considering security.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Jerome said.
His tone was a bit sharp, and, to Griffen’s ear, bitter. Griffen looked over at his friend seriously for the first time. He hadn’t noticed the rings around Jerome’s eyes before, the haggard touches to his features. Jerome looked strained. Angry.
“Problem, Jerome?”
“Look, we got some of the best watchers, shills, dealers, and the rest I ever did meet. Our operation is tops, but it’s not designed for that sort of work. We don’t have much in the way of thugs, and what we do have is tied up on the regular games.”
Griffen closed his notebook and took a sip of his Irish.
“You’re right.” He nodded to Jerome. “I hadn’t thought of things that way.”
“Yeah… I noticed.”
If anything, the tone was sharper this time.
“Okay, Jerome, you are right, I admit it. Still you’re pissed. What am I missing?”
“Damn it, Griffen, what aren’t you missing? When was the last time you asked, or even thought, about the operation you are supposed to be running? Your head’s been so wrapped up in this conclave that the only time you think of us is when you need us for it.”
“Whoa, whoa. You haven’t come to me with anything either.”
Jerome’s hands clenched for a moment, as if he wanted to do something but was restraining himself. He nodded.
“Sure, boss, sure. I ain’t brought much to your attention. When you first started, I had to, but then you started asking for regular reports and things got covered when you asked. Then Rose comes along and… hell, there hasn’t been anything I couldn’t handle on my own, so I let you work through things. But, still, you’ve gots a job to do. It ain’t a nine-to-five like some people, but it’s what pays your rent and puts food on your table and whiskey in your glass all the same.”
Griffen didn’t hip-shoot that. Though a part of him wanted to say it was a job he never asked for, but that was a small, small part that he was immediately ashamed of. Jerome and Mose had done a lot for him, did a lot for him. He wasn’t all too sure he’d still be alive if not for them. He certainly wouldn’t have been living comfortably in his new favorite place on earth.
“Again, you’re right,” Griffen said finally.
“Go on, I’m listening.” Jerome took a sip from his drink, and it was clear to Griffen he was finally working to control his voice.
“I’ve been getting tunnel vision. And I’m sorry for that. I won’t say I’m totally to blame, but next time you have my permission to give me a kick in the ass if you have business I need to be attending to.”
“Want to make that an order, boss?”
Jerome smiled, and Griffen found himself returning it. Despite the frustration both felt, they were friends.
“An order for the next butt-kicking sure. Not an order for all time,” Griffen said.
“Damn, guess I’ll have to make the most of it.”
Jerome clapped Griffen on the back, and some of the tension eased from his face. Griffen hadn’t really realized how much this had been on Jerome’s mind, and with that realization came a need to understand more. As tempting as it was to let things slide and go back to their drinks, Griffen pressed on.
“You aren’t happy that I agreed to Rose’s favor, are you?” Griffen said.
“Not without knowing a lot more, no. That was risky and foolish, and you of all people should know better. Besides, I’ve got to ask myself, where is our end? What do you or your people get out of sticking your nose in a mess of folks that we haven’t ever dealt with in the past?” Jerome asked.
“Just because you haven’t dealt with them doesn’t mean we won’t have to someday,” Griffen said.
“Sooner rather than later now that you are on their radar.”
“Now that I’ve been thinking on it, dragon or no dragon, I think if I wasn’t already on some of their radars, Rose wouldn’t have come to me. One thing I hope to gain out of this whole mess is to find out how the rest of the world responds to dragons, and me specifically.”
Now it was Jerome’s turn to stop and think.
“Well now, I can’t say that’s not something worth learning. But it seems an awful little reward for what could be an awful lot of trouble.”
“Maybe you’re right a third time. Has Mose been feeling the same way?” Griffen asked.
“Hell if I know.” Jerome lost what good cheer he had gained. “He’s been worse than you. I go to him with something, and he says ‘run it past Griffen’ or ‘that should be Griffen’s baby.’ Between the two of you, I’ve been the one left trying to hold things together. And I’m too small a fish, or I wouldn’t have backed you for the frickin’ job.”
“
Nice to be appreciated,” Griffen said.
“Yeah, well, if you want to make it up to me, you’ll go brace Mose on it. I want to know the lay of the land before we get hit with anything too big to handle.”
Griffen sighed and nodded. He had already planned to go see Mose soon. Now he had better questions.
Conclave pushed aside for the moment, Griffen’s head was beginning to clear.
Fourteen
Mai was bored.
She was sitting in her apartment, staring out the window into her semiprivate courtyard. Her apartment was opulent, one of the higher-end condos in the Quarter. Fully furnished, secure, in the heart of the action. It even came with off-the-street parking, which she wasn’t using because she rarely enjoyed driving. She enjoyed being driven.
Her gaze kept drifting to the phone. She should call someone, check on… things. Yet every time she picked the phone up, she would stare at it for a few moments and invariably put it down. She knew what answers she would hear. Positive responses. Positive, but predictable. There just didn’t seem to be any point.
She stared out the window.
She just couldn’t help herself. She was simply used to a more active lifestyle than she was finding in the Quarter. Oh, the nightlife was good, and the shopping okay, but she didn’t know what to do with herself. Mai had always thought of herself as a big-city girl, and in so many ways the Quarter and those in it had a small-town mentality. Oh, there was a city wrapped around it, but it was just another city, nothing special.
Looking back on things, she realized she had started to grow listless and that the boredom had been creeping up on her for quite some time. Back before Griffen had known about being a dragon even. Michigan had just not been her style, though she had gone for more day trips than Griffen would ever realize. Her family’s money had made a jaunt to New York or even farther no problem. Sometimes those trips had just been for fun, sometimes to report in.
That was the real kicker. Back then she had felt more active, more involved with her little espionage role. Her family might have seen it as a lesser post for a somewhat difficult girl-child, but she had seen potential in Griffen even then. She had had a lot of fun plotting and planning for possible contingencies. Now that her plans were set in motion, she was in waiting mode. So much had to simmer and stew, so much had yet to come to a head.
The other dragons of the East, young and old, were moving into position. She didn’t have to do anything, not at the moment. No prod necessary, no strings to pull. Of course she was pleased that things were going so well, but it left her with little to occupy her mind or time.
And Griffen… So different now, so new. She found herself drawn to his new confidence, his new power. Attracted to the man he had become and the potential he had yet to tap. At the same time, she missed the boy. The naive young dragon who hadn’t a clue about the world. No ambition, no cares. Easy.
For little stretches of time, she could wrap herself up in him. In enjoying the Quarter as he saw it. Helping and guiding him as he learned what it was to be a dragon. Pulling subtle strings, showing him choice bits and pieces of a much larger world. That was even more fun than what they shared in bed. Though Fox Lisa had proved a surprising and interesting diversion.
She had no intention of rushing Griffen’s progress. He already seemed to be growing so fast; any faster, and it might upset everything. He was drawing enough attention as it was. Besides, despite her current boredom, Mai was nothing if not patient.
He was just so wrapped up in this conclave of his. That was her one regret so far. She would have steered him away from this whole mess if she could have. Not only did it keep him distracted and growing more distant, but she had no way to predict or try to control the influences he would encounter once it got under way.
Like so many dragons, she barely bothered with other supernatural creatures. They weren’t in her class, within her sphere of influence. Oh, she had dabbled when she was younger. Her family often tended to disregard her, so she made it a habit to track others who were disregarded. She even remembered the boyfriend she brought home one day who claimed to be a tengu. Her parents really gave her hell for that one. Though she had never been quite clear if they were more upset that he wasn’t a dragon or that he was Japanese.
What would Griffen meet? Who would he be drawn to? What would be drawn to him? How could she make it all work for her?
She left the phone and window behind. It was about time she got off her ass and got back to work.
A short walk took her from her place to Griffen’s. He had given her a key to his security gate a while ago. A move that Val had seemed to disapprove of at the time. Not to mention Jerome. Mai was afraid she might have to do something about that weakblood soon.
Of course, Griffen didn’t know she had taken the liberty of making up a key for his apartment. Nor did she really feel any need to tell him. No sense bothering him with little details.
From the look of things, both he and Val were out. Mai knew that Val was scheduled to work that day, but Griffen’s habits were more unreliable. Just to be safe, she knocked at his door. When no answer came, she slipped inside. She always moved with natural grace, but when she wanted to move silently, cats would die from sheer jealousy.
She had only a little hope of finding what she was looking for. She had no idea how long it would be till Griffen returned, and didn’t want him to know that she had rifled his apartment. Still, a quick look though his drawers and desk should be safe enough. She started to move toward his bedroom.
And stopped when she saw exactly what she was looking for, haphazardly dropped on his couch. Right next to his TV remote and a DVD case for some movie she had never heard of. She rolled her eyes and picked up the little notebook Griffen had been carrying around for a few days. If she wanted to know what Griffen was encountering in this damn conclave, she would find out the easy way. His own private notes.
She sat on the arm of his couch, careful not to disturb anything, and flipped through the notebook. Her lips pursed, and her foot twitched idly, as if her toes tapped to some unheard music. She was a bit disappointed by how little Griffen seemed to know. She couldn’t help but feel he was setting himself up for a big fall.
Then she flipped the page, and her eyes widened in surprise. She ran a finger over the words at the top, a great bold heading underlined several times. She tapped a manicured nail against the heading.
Flynn’s Thoughts.
She scanned the page, a list of advice and suggestions that she knew at once weren’t Griffen’s own thoughts. Nor the comments of anyone in his immediate circle. Mai read the page twice and looked back at the heading.
“Flynn,” she whispered to herself.
Very carefully she put the notebook back exactly as she had found it. Despite the apparent lack of care it had been set down with, Mai took no chances. She left as silently as she had entered, locking the door behind her. Her lips began to slip into a smile, one that slowly spread as she walked back to her apartment. Her eyes lit up with a spark of anticipation that they hadn’t held in months.
Once back in her apartment, she picked up her phone. This time there was no hesitation, no thoughtful stare. She dialed a special number, one Griffen would never be told about. Just as he would never see this side of her. Not if she had anything to say about it.
There was no greeting when the phone picked up on the other end. Just silence, empty and waiting. Mai smiled just a bit more.
“I need a full check on a Western dragon. Flynn, Earl. Primary focus, current whereabouts and activities. Include rumor,” Mai said.
“One hour,” a flat, monotone voice answered. The phone went dead.
Mai put it back in its receiver and sat. She didn’t spare a glance for the window behind her. She could wait, she was very good at waiting. And suddenly, she was no longer bored.
Fifteen
The Quarter is always transient. People come for weeks, for years, for an hour while passing through. It
rarely matters, because the outside world hardly seems to exist when one is in the Quarter. Time is at a standstill. So much so that some come for a weekend, never leave, and hardly remember that they were supposed to.
For those coming to New Orleans, there are a host of different types of accommodations. Hotels, motels, full resorts. Even apartments that are sublet. Some locals flee the city during big events, whether it is a football bowl or Mardi Gras. And when a room with a balcony can bring in a thousand dollars a night on Bourbon Street, more than one local property owner has used the tourist dollar to fund their own vacation to far-off locations.
Even when no specific event is going on, one can always find a room. A quick Internet search, a check of the classifieds, and it is little trouble finding a nice apartment for the night. In some ways it is far more convenient than trying to find a hotel room. As time goes by, hotels ask more questions, keep better records, and grow more suspicious about checking an ID than an average Joe who just wants cash up front. Subletting an apartment for the weekend was often easier than finding a place to live for a year.
The assassin sat alone in such an apartment.
He was a big man, well muscled and tough-looking. A bald head first made him seem menacing, but, if anyone had thought to take a second glance, it made him seem neat. His clothes, black and loose, were immaculate. His hands were covered in skintight black-leather gloves. Nearly as thin as surgical gloves, but much less conspicuous. His eyebrows had a light sheen, and it would have taken a keen eye indeed to realize they had been lightly coated with Vaseline.
No matter how advanced investigation techniques became, you had to find a sample for DNA to be recognized. Hair follicles were easier to find than skin cells. And there were ways of dealing with skin cells.
The assassin glanced out of the apartment window. It was early yet, barely six, and he could just barely make out the sign of the target’s favorite pub. An Irish joint from the sign, but he had no plans to approach closer than he was now. The contract had come with surprisingly good information on the target’s activities, but it had also come with a time limit. Two days was almost no time for a true professional hit, and if the money hadn’t been as extraordinary as the intel, he would never have taken the job.
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