"Is that so?" He folded his arms across his blood-stained chest. "And do you think this shot was a drive-by, or aimed at me?"
"As I said before, likely a drive-by."
"Yeah, as likely as your calling out to Buc was to get him safe."
Bat, I could see in his eyes, knew. Natch didn't want to know, and the old man knew the truth didn't matter one way or another. "Mr. Costapain, you're more valuable to me alive than dead. You know things and can remember things that might be useful. If for no other reason, I'd like to keep you as a resource."
The old man looked at me, then scratched the back of his head. "That's probably as close to honesty as I've heard in some time. I'm getting damned tired of sitting on my ass with people hunting me. I'm not up to fighting back myself, but if you need a hound to point you to the fox, I'll join the hunt."
We retraced our steps out of Boxton and got to a small convenience store where Natch used a pay phone to call Jytte. She gave Jytte a fairly full debriefing and when she hung up, told us that Rock was on his way to give us a ride. I bought some soda for the lot of us and Costapain snagged a pack of cigarettes.
His hands shook so badly that Bat had to help him light the coffin nail. The old man looked up and saw me watching him. "Nasty habit, I know. I quit 10 years ago."
I shrugged and looked the street over. "Stress will do that to you. The nicotine will calm you down and sharpen you up a bit. It'll just kill you later. You ever hear the word 'Fiddleback?'"
Costapain thought hard, then shook his head. "I take it you don't mean the spider."
"Nope. Something connected to Lorica."
"Not that I can recall."
"Do you know what Loring was working on when he was ousted?"
A shrug and a cherry ember glowed brightly. "The last link in the maglev line was just about finished, so I suspect he started his post-product evaluation. He always did that sort of 'after action' report on his projects. Helped him figure out what he'd done right and wrong."
That hardly seemed the sort of thing to get him forced out of Lorica Industries, but it was possible. He could have uncovered massive price gouging and collusion that drove up costs on the project. His daughter might have been feathering her own nest. If Nero was going to blow the whistle on her, she would have wanted him stopped. Perhaps she ousted him from power before having him killed to eliminate a motive?
"Natch, if Nerys had her father killed, which security agency would handle it?"
"Scorpion. They handle the city's legal business on the east side."
"Could they be bought off?"
"You mean, would they hide evidence that linked her to the killing? Probably not. Scorpion's headed by a real cowboy who thinks of his people like the Arizona Rangers. They're fairly incorruptible, but the jails might as well have a revolving door. Here you get the finest justice you can buy."
"Something is not clicking here." I frowned and tried to figure out what Nero Loring could know that would be important enough to get him killed. The scandal of revealing price gouging would get smothered under a blanket of bribes. It might be personal between father and daughter, which would explain the ouster before execution, but I suspected there was something more there.
Rock pulled up in front of the store in a Mercedes Benz 750 SLX. The locks all clicked open, and we moved to the vehicle while Rock kept the engine running. Bat and Natch sandwiched Costapain between them in the back seat while I dropped into the passenger bucket beside Rock. The second I shut my door, he started us forward, then shivered. "You get into trouble in some of the worst places."
"I'm glad the cavalry comes when called."
"Yeah, sure." He glanced in the rearview mirror. "Natch, you wanna pitch that butt out the window? Sorry, Pops, no smoking in here."
Bat took the cigarette from Costapain and held it for him. Rock's face twisted down into a snarl, but he knew better than to bait Bat. He turned to me. "No Marit with you? I heard your evening last night turned out to be a bust because you had to leave early. You must miss her."
I shook my head. "No, we slept in late today."
Rock hit his horn and swerved around a very surprised Audi driver. Bat smiled and even Costapain looked amused. I pulled my Krait and twisted the sight elevator nob back down to zero it at 50 feet. Rock snarled at another driver, then punched a keypad and lowered the air-conditioning to 72°F. He also started a DAT of "The Rolling Stones—Live at Leisure World" playing.
None of us said anything in the rest of the journey. Talking over the music was difficult, but hearing the familiar strains of "Can't get no wheelchair traction" helped take the edge off all of us. If I was going to talk, I wanted to grill Rock about the Warriors of the Aryan World Alliance, but I did not want to do it in front of Costapain. If he thought we had any ties to the people who killed Buc—and I felt certain a WAWA shooter had done the job—he'd not tell us anything.
Rock got us to the Coyote cell headquarters I'd visited previously and dropped us off. We went inside as he roared off, and I deposited my pistol on the table in the anteroom before heading into the briefing room. Hal Garrett was already there, and I could see Jytte's outline in the light of a computer terminal in the next room.
"Mr. Costapain, I'm Hal Garrett. I'm glad you're safe."
"So am I, Mr. Garrett. It's great to meet you. I'm a big fan of yours." Costapain pulled out a chair and sat, as did the rest of us.
"Thank you." Hal looked at me. "I heard what happened. What do you make of it?"
I chewed my lower lip for a second. "I think we're looking at three distinct problems. The first is figuring out where Nero Loring is. His daughter obviously wants him dead for a reason. We can find that reason out in a number of different ways, to be sure, but I think hearing it from Loring will be the easiest. Not only can he tell us what her problem is, but I suspect he has a solution already worked out and we could use that, too."
Garrett nodded. "Ever since Natch called, Jytte has being trying to locate any sort of computer information on Sedona that might tie to Loring. Unless she's found something in the last five minutes, there's nothing."
Costapain opened his hands. "Honestly, that is the best I can do. I don't know where he could be if not there. If he's moved on since he sent me that card, I can't help you."
"Oh, I think you can help us a great deal, Mr. Costapain." I patted him on the right shoulder. "You worked for Loring for 40 years. You have to know the ins and outs of the Lorica Citadel like no one else. If you'd be willing to lend us your expertise, we can start developing plans. If there is a problem in Lorica, knowing the layout could make solving it much easier for all of us."
"I can see that."
"That's the first problem, Tycho. What's the next one?" Hal asked.
"The second is 'Fiddleback.' Nerys used the term as if it were a person or corporate identity. The way she said it tied it to my background and had very heavy conspiratorial overtones. It might be another facet of the problem Nerys has with her father. I think finding out what Fiddleback is could be crucial to solving the problem with Lorica."
I leaned back in my chair. "The third problem, I think, is tied in with what you're trying to do in keeping the Blood Crips away from WAWA. A Warrior shooter did one of the Plattermen in Boxton. I may or may not have gotten him, so things could be even."
Hal's face darkened. "What's your estimate of the chances the Aryans are being paid by Lorica to incite trouble?"
"Low. I don't see the benefit in it for Lorica. Boxton is in the shadow of Genentech-Carbide. The Blood Crips are near Lorica. A race war isn't going to do either one of them any good." I held my open hands up. "I do think the Aryans are being financed by someone, but it would have to be someone who wants to cause trouble for all the companies in the southern half of the valley."
"Agreed, which cuts down on suspects, but not many." Hal made a note on a piece of paper, folded it, and stuck it away in his shirt pocket. "You have any solutions to these problems?"
; "Sure. Let's hit them in reverse order. You need to continue to keep the Blood Crips and the other gangs in check. See if you can get them to work with Scorpion to keep an eye on the Aryans. I know they won't want to, but a war is going to get a lot of folks killed. You don't want that, and they don't want that." I sighed heavily. "If worse comes to worse, direct intervention might be necessary. I don't think the Blood Crips are any closer to being saints than the Aryans, but the Aryans have not shown they can be reasonable. Capping them might well put things on hold."
I saw in his face that Hal no more liked the idea of assassinating Heinrich now than he did before. "We will cross that bridge only if we have no other choice. I think I can keep the lid on. The Aryans do not have the manpower they need to be as overwhelmingly powerful as they would have to be to win a war, so we have some time.
"What do we do about Fiddleback?"
I smiled. "I have an idea that I want to discuss with Alejandro. Trust me, it will shake something loose, I think."
"Okay. I'll let Alejandro know you're coming to talk with him. What about finding Nero Loring."
"Barring Jytte's success, I think going up to Sedona would be a good idea."
For the first time I saw fear in Hal's eyes and shock in Bat's. Both of them reacted as though they had been hit with an electric stunner. Bat slowly folded his arms across his chest while Hal clasped his hand together with fingers interlaced, and rested his elbows on the table. "You may want to reconsider that idea, Tycho."
"I'm not backstopping your bullet, Hal. Why?"
He drew in a deep breath and Natch fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair. "Sedona is different."
"Different?"
Garrett nodded solemnly. "Twenty, 30 years ago Sedona was a hotbed of 'mystical' activity. Folks used to go up there and meditate in the power nexuses referred to as 'vortices.' More and more people moved to that area and formed up into little cults following this guru or that. At first they were very peaceful, but as the government and ranchers tried to restrict their access to private or wilderness preserve land, the cults took on a positively survivalist attitude."
Natch grinned weakly. "Think Aryans who check the color of your aura instead of your skin, Caine-man."
"Exactly." Hal stared at the table about two feet in front of his hands. "The local press talks about weird things going on in Sedona, and the local talk radio stations have whole programs devoted to 'psychic phenomena' going on up there. When some shooting broke out seven years ago, both KFYI and KTAR lost news teams covering the story."
I blinked away my astonishment. "Are you telling me folks go up there and don't come back? Is there a Lectorium up there where folks get eaten or something?"
"Or something."
I looked up as Marit framed herself in the doorway. "What do you mean?"
"There are, as Hal said, cult groups up there. If you're not careful they can brainwash you pretty easily. The techniques have been around since before the Korean War. As long as you stick close to another rational person and don't interact too directly, you can go in and come out again."
I winked at Bat. "I'm not afraid to try. Bat will go with me, won't you?"
Bat shook his head. "Bust my head, fine, but not my mind."
Marit walked from the door and stood behind me, resting her hands on my shoulders. "I'll go. I've been before and survived it."
Hal's head came up. "Are you crazy?"
"No, that's why I'll go. I've got a Range Rover II in a garage in City Center. It will get us there and back. I can even arrange for a local guide—I know a guy from a photo shoot done up there for the Arizona Highways swimsuit issue." She gave my shoulders a squeeze. "We can leave in the morning and be back tomorrow night."
Jytte came in from the other room with the cellular phone in her hand. "Coyote wants to speak to you, Tycho."
Given the tail of his message last time, I took the phone with a bit of trepidation. "Caine here."
"Ah, Mr. Caine, it is good to hear your voice. I have nothing but admiration for your ability with a gun. I trust you were not injured."
"No sir, only one of the Plattermen caught a bullet. We got Mr. Costapain out of there, and he has agreed to help us."
"Excellent, though it is too bad about the Platterman. You realize finding Nero Loring is a key to recovering your identity, don't you?"
"Yes, sir." I had a feeling Hal would not try to stop Marit and me from going to Sedona, but I wanted to ice the trip. "Toward that end, Marit and I will be going to Sedona to follow up on our only lead about Loring."
"Sedona?" The mechanically altered voice hesitated for a moment or two. "That will be dangerous, but I believe you have the skills to handle yourself. Be careful, and do not mistake foolhardiness for courage. If you feel threatened, get out of there."
"Understood, sir."
"Excellent. Good hunting. Now, if you will, please let me speak with Hal."
I passed the phone to Hal. He listened closely, then offered two or three "Yes, sirs," before shutting the phone off. "He cleared your trip and told me to offer you any help you need."
"Great." I stood and took Marit's hand. "We'll see Alejandro right now, then head out in the morning. We will call in before we leave, at noon, four and every four hours after that until we get back. If you don't hear from us for 12 hours straight, send out the cavalry, or write us off."
Hal nodded. "You want more firepower than what you normally carry?"
I thought for a second, then shook my head. "If I have to start shooting to find Nero Loring, the problem will be one too big to handle no matter how huge the gun. With any luck at all, I won't have to fire a shot."
We took Marit's car back to City Center and beat the post-work crowds to the Mercado. We found Alejandro's gallery in an adobe-like building in the center of the Mexican pseudo-village. The exterior had been decorated with Spanish and Amerindian designs, but the colors used were bright pastels unknown to the ancients. As it was, that made it right at home with the rest of the Dizzyland village simulation—and alien to the nation and culture from which it purported to be drawn.
The interior of the gallery, on the other hand, could have been taken from any fine arts center anywhere. While the semi-circular foyer got plenty of natural sunlight, Alejandro had it set up with comfortable chairs and a small refreshment center. A couple of framed, print-quality posters hung on the walls to advertise past or coming shows, but the real art was kept in the upper and central viewing galleries.
Opposite the foyer, the gallery became long and narrow. The stairs doubled back on themselves, starting near the central gallery and coming out toward the foyer before twisting and climbing up to the upper gallery. On the ground floor, at the switchback, a pretty receptionist sat behind a massive mahogany desk—rather rare these days. I could see from one unfortunate chip in the corner that the desk was genuine wood—not a press or extruded plastic product.
The receptionist smiled at Marit. "Ms. Fisk, how good to see you again."
"Good afternoon, Paz. Is Alejandro in?"
The dark-haired woman nodded. "He's with a client, but they should be finishing up very soon. If you wish to wait . . ."
"We'll look around the gallery."
"I will tell him you're waiting."
We walked into the central viewing gallery and slowly began to stroll along, admiring the work hung there. The walls had been painted a neutral beige, which, along with the charcoal-gray carpet, offered no competition for the art being displayed. Track lighting provided just the right amount of illumination to bring the colors out without bleaching them or casting inappropriate shadows on the statuary.
"Alejandro is known for obtaining new and professional work for a very discriminating clientele. Most people think he has the ability to spot excellent investments before they become astronomically priced." She pointed to a surreal fantasy piece featuring a sylvan woman in a pink cloak standing on the trail to a mystical city. Behind her sat a cloaked warrior with a sword and a s
mall, non-human creature playing at some sort of game with painted sticks. "This is another picture by the woman who painted the piece I tried to buy last night."
"Turner something?"
"Elizabeth Turner. Alejandro tracked her down from some commercial work she'd done. He's sold a number of her paintings."
I looked a bit closer at the picture. The artist had a good technique and was able to convincingly portray the fantastic as real. "Does he ever arrange commissions?"
"I do, indeed." Alejandro greeted Marit with kisses on both cheeks, then shook my hand. "Did you want something painted? A portrait, perhaps?"
"Not exactly. Is there some place we can talk?"
Fiddleback Trilogy 1 - A Gathering Evil Page 13
