“He’s doing great, last I heard.”
Ruby looks at me. “You two know each other?”
I nod. “Ruby, this is Corbeau, king of the Paris underworld.”
He offers a courteous bow. “My lady, it is a pleasure.”
Her eyes narrow. “Mm-hmm, I’m sure it is. And your mutual friend is…”
“Ichiro,” I say.
She raises her brow. “No shit!”
“Yeah, these two go way back. Ichi happened to mention him to me in conversation once. When the name sounded familiar, we connected the dots. It’s a small world.” I look at Corbeau. “You’ve got a hell of a community here. I’m impressed.”
He shrugs humbly. “It isn’t much, but it is home to so many souls.”
“Contractors?”
“Some. Mostly, to those forgotten by the world above. I provide them sanctuary and protection. They provide me with eyes and ears around the city. Nobody sees a homeless person sitting in a doorway. But the homeless person sees everything.”
“Does that include your man outside?”
Corbeau laughs. “He is our security. Our doorman.”
I raise an eyebrow. “He looks like Gollum with a crackpipe. You should upgrade.”
“He is… unique, for sure. But he is effective. He would not be out there if that were not the case.”
“I thought he was just there to feed Stabby Joe’s cat,” says Ruby, perhaps a little too offhandedly.
Corbeau throws her a glance but ignores the quip.
“I assume this is not a social visit, Monsieur Adrian?” he asks me.
“It isn’t.”
I reach inside my jacket and take out the photo of Holt. I hand it to him, and he studies it carefully.
“I do not recognize this man,” he says. “Should I?”
“That guy’s name is Holt. I have a personal matter to discuss with him, but locating him is proving difficult. I’m here looking for the guy standing behind him. He’s in the business. One of us. I was hoping you might know where I could find him.”
“I see,” he says, not taking his eyes off the picture. “And you think this man will lead you to Holt?”
“That’s the idea.”
“And what did our friend Monsieur Fortin say?”
I shrug. “That he didn’t know and wouldn’t tell me even if he did.”
Corbeau hands the picture back to me. “I am afraid I must say the same. You know how our world works, monsieur. We do not work against our own.”
“This isn’t a contract. Like I said, it’s a personal matter between myself and Holt. I just want to ask this guy if he knows where I can find him. No harm in that.”
He paces away and takes a seat once more in the middle of the battered sofa. “Still, this is… how you say… a gray area for me. I keep people safe. I am trusted and respected because I guarantee secrecy.”
“I know, but—”
“However, we are old friends, are we not? We discuss life and work, and should we happen to gossip a little… there is no harm in passing on a rumor, no?”
I smile. “I don’t think so.”
“Then it is settled. The three of us, we shall have a conversation as friends do. And I will tell you, my friends, of this rumor I heard of a man like the one in your picture. There is talk that he moved out of the independent scene after his last job. So good was his work, the client hired him exclusively. I hear the money was too good to ignore.”
“Sounds like a good deal,” I say. “You heard where this guy is? I would love to ask him about his career change.”
“Sadly, there is no more rumor, monsieur—only information. That cannot be given for free.”
“And what’s the cost?” asks Ruby.
Corbeau seems to think for a moment. “Information can be given in exchange for work. One contract, and I tell you all I know with no harm to my reputation.”
“No way.” She looks at me. “Adrian, we’re not here for this. If he isn’t going to tell us, we should go. We’ll find this guy another way. The team might be having better luck in Serbia.”
She’s right. Of course, she’s right. We can’t get involved in this kind of work. Not now. Holt’s the priority. Besides, given our current status, going back to basics would likely be frowned upon.
However…
“Thing is, Ruby, no one’s going to tell us shit for free. If at all. The team might have some luck tracking down the buyers, sure, but that’s unlikely to lead us straight to Holt. This is the best chance we have of finding him quickly. We don’t know what kind of time frame we’re working with here. Best to assume it’s a short one.”
She sighs and goes to speak but stops herself. She purses her lips and looks away; the internal deliberation is evident on her face.
Eventually, she rolls her eyes. “Fine.”
I turn to Corbeau. “What’s the gig?”
He smiles at me. “The target is an aristocrat. A wannabe playboy whose trust fund lifestyle has seen him accrue large debts with some disreputable people.”
I frown. “Okay. That sounds straightforward. Why hasn’t this contract been done already? Why give it to us?”
“The target is Jean-Paul Reginald.”
Ruby and I exchange a glance and shrug.
“Is that name meant to mean something to me?” I ask.
“The Reginald family is the last dynasty in France with links to the disbanded monarchy.” He smiles again, but this time, it’s laced with regret. “Nobody will take this job because Jean-Paul is too high-profile. He is a national celebrity. No payout is worth the risk of exposure.”
“People are smart,” observes Ruby.
“Indeed, mademoiselle. However, it is no secret that Adrian Hell does not want for money. And I suspect in these circumstances, information holds more value to you, no? Value enough to accept the risk no one else will.”
Damn it. I should’ve anticipated this. We’ve walked right into the middle of a no-win situation and admitted that we have no choice to the person holding all the cards.
Amateur mistake, Adrian.
“Say we do the contract… what do we get?” I ask. “How can I be sure your information’s worth it?”
Corbeau stands and places a hand on his chest. “I give you my word and swear on my friendship with Ichiro. You get this job done, I will give you the details of the last job the man you seek carried out.”
Well, that isn’t nothing.
I look at Ruby. “What do you think?”
“I think this whole thing fucking sucks,” she says. “But… I have to admit, finding out exactly what Holt hired this guy for is the best lead I think we’re going to get, and it could lead us to Holt himself.”
“I agree. Finding out who he wanted dead could be crucial. So?”
“What?”
“I’m not doing this unless you’re with me.”
She holds my gaze. The smallest smile creeps onto her lips. She says nothing. She just nods.
I look at Corbeau. “Okay, you have a deal. Where can I find this Jean-Paul guy?”
His laugh booms around us. “Excellent! There is a charity gala tomorrow evening at the Musée Rodin. The crème of high society will be there, including Monsieur Reginald. He travels with security at all times, so this event will be your best chance.”
“Consider it done.”
“Do you need weapons? We have some quality stock here.”
I smile. “I saw on the way in. But we’re good, thanks. I never travel without some stock of my own.”
“Then it is agreed. We shall meet again when you are finished.”
Ruby and I take turns shaking his hand. Then we’re led out by the three-man welcoming committee, back through the shanty town, to the metal staircase leading up to the street.
“This better be worth it,” Ruby says as we climb the steps.
I let her go first, so I could enjoy the view. I’m not sorry.
“This part certainly was,” I reply,
smiling.
She glances back, sees me staring at her ass, and rolls her eyes. “Subtle.”
“Not even a little bit. But this will be fine. Nothing we can’t handle between us.”
We open the door and step outside.
Oh.
Corbeau’s security guard is lying on his side, with blood pooling around his head. Beside him, the cat has been almost split in half by a bullet to its body. In front of us, in a large semicircle, I count fifteen men and women, all armed. They’re facing the door, probably waiting for us. I recognize one of the women from Fortin’s casino.
We freeze, standing shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the squad of assassins clearly here to kill us.
I look at Ruby. “Now this we might struggle with.”
15
22:36 CEST
Neither of us take our eyes off the mob of killers covering the street. The way we came is blocked. We could head left, but I’m not sure how far we would get if we made a run for it.
“You carrying?” asks Ruby quietly.
“No,” I reply, barely moving my lips. “You know the rules about the casino. No weapons inside.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
Come on, Adrian… think. What are the options?
There’s no point running back inside. The door barely exists as it is. No way it would stop a hail of gunfire. We would be dead before we reached the stairs. I’m also not sure there’s another way out once we’re down there. Besides, I don’t know if the assassins in there are any friendlier toward us than the ones out here. No guarantee we would be any safer inside, even with Corbeau’s endorsement.
I’m not armed. I’m definitely not fast enough to outrun bullets.
Let her off the leash.
My Inner Satan speaks from the dark recesses of my mind. That part of my psyche doesn’t say much these days. It’s my Inner Josh that tends to get me through most things. But when the beast inside speaks, I always listen.
You might not have a gun, but you’re far from unarmed.
That’s a good point.
I glance at Ruby. “Hey, I haven’t seen your Wild Child in a long time. She still in there?”
She turns her head slowly. As her gaze rests on mine, I can see all traces of humanity have gone from her face. The spark of her emerald eyes has gone. The dead orbs I’m looking into may as well be black. Her expression is deadpan.
Then she smiles.
Christ! I forgot how good she is. Forgot how similar to me she is. That crazy of hers… it’s been almost four years since I’ve seen it. Not since I busted her out of the nuthouse to help me kill the president. But it must always be there inside of her, just below the surface. Waiting. And she just flipped it on like a switch.
Damn.
If she can get close to any of these assholes, it will stop them trying to shoot her for fear of hitting each other. Then she can really do some damage. It might even buy me a little time too. I flick my gaze beyond her, to the dead body lying next to the door.
I wonder if Stabby Joe’s old friend was as good a security guard as Corbeau thought?
I wink at her. “You ready, sweetheart?”
Her maniacal grin widens, reaching her eyes without affecting them. “Baby’s hungry. Baby needs to feed.”
I smile as she slowly turns her attention to the group blocking our path. She locks onto one of the men standing directly in front of us. I see the fear and concern spread across his face.
“Go get ’em,” I whisper.
Ruby sets off running, aiming for her chosen victim. She’s in the middle of the narrow road before anyone reacts. She cartwheels into a back flip, kicking her heels off as she brings her legs up and over. She lands facing the guy, just over an arm’s length away. I see her glance up at her shoes, currently flying through the air. She catches one and slams it into the side of the guy’s head. I watch the long, thin heel disappear inside the guy’s ear.
Fuck, that’s grim. Still… it’s effective, which is what counts now.
With the rest of them momentarily distracted, I dive to my right, rolling into a crouch beside the dead body. I quickly rummage inside the long coat, which is now even more stained thanks to the blood. My hand feels the comfort of steel in the pocket.
Bingo.
I don’t even bother to check it. I pull it free, take aim, and start firing. Two men drop straight away. I clip a third, but he dives for cover behind a large dumpster.
I look for Ruby, who is lost in a huddle of deadly humanity. There’s a group of five clumped together. I assume she’s in the middle somewhere.
I resume firing and take out a couple more before the rest of them catch up and begin turning their attention to me. I start running left, past the entrance to Corbeau’s underworld and along the narrow street toward freedom.
“Ruby!” I yell without looking around.
A few moments later, she’s alongside me, sprinting barefoot. The sound of automatic gunfire fills the air as we head left, around the corner at the end. The stuttering roar of bullets cracks and splinters the brick millimeters from my body before we disappear from the assassins’ line of sight.
We don’t slow down. Ahead of us is an intersection. The traffic is light at this time of night, but the roads are far from empty.
“Straight over,” I manage, fighting for breath.
With a cursory glance in both directions, we run across, weaving through the gaps between the cars and ignoring the occasional blare of a horn.
There are more people on the sidewalks here. There seems to be a few restaurants around, which might explain it. I hope to God what’s left of that hit squad doesn’t start—
More gunfire from behind us, accompanied this time by a collective wail of screams from the people around us.
Never mind.
“How many… did you… get?” asks Ruby between deep breaths.
I wince, sucking in a deep breath through gritted teeth. I’m trying to ignore the stabbing pain in my chest it brought with it.
“I killed four… injured one,” I reply. “You?”
“Took out two… disabled another.”
Ahead, the road doglegs to the right, toward another intersection. This one only goes left and right. I point to a walkway directly in front of us across the street, between two blocks of stores.
“There. Come on.”
We dodge more traffic at full speed. As we reach the opposite sidewalk, I risk a glance over my shoulder.
I see three—no, four guys following us, making no effort to hide their guns.
We head through the gap in the buildings, narrowly avoiding an assortment of tables and chairs that must belong to one of the restaurants here. It leads us to another street, but there’s no road access from behind us.
“I counted fifteen… originally,” I say to Ruby. “Six down, plus… two injured… leaves seven. There are… four… behind us.”
She lets out a guttural growl of effort, digging deep for the energy to keep running.
“Let’s hope… the other three… decided we weren’t… worth it,” she says.
Bullets pepper the ground at our feet. I look back again. The four in pursuit are gaining on us. Sadly, I’m not surprised. I can barely move as it is, and Ruby’s feet must be shredded.
I twist my body as much as I can and fire the remaining bullets at them. I don’t hit anyone, but it gives them something to think about. They hang back momentarily and split into pairs, each taking a side of the street, seeking shelter.
The hammer thumbs down on an empty chamber. I toss the gun aside. It’s no use to me now. In front of us is a dead end. Nothing but a building with no entrance. The only way forward is to the right.
It leads us nowhere.
We’re faced with the backs of apartment buildings. Three of them surround a large patch of communal grass, with a large tree in its center.
Instinctively, we both slow down.
“Now what?” asks Ruby.<
br />
“I’m thinking,” I say, fighting for breath.
I look around. The buildings are too high to scale, which is just as well. My days of Spidermaning my way out of trouble are long gone. There’s no path between the buildings to the streets beyond, either.
I don’t need to look around to see where our pursuers are. I hear them turning the corner; their collective footsteps echo in the still night air.
Wait. What’s that?
The building ahead. There’s a light.
Is that a door?
No time to be wrong.
“Follow me,” I say to Ruby.
Bullets punch into the thick bark of the tree, inches from my head and shoulder, as we run past it. There’s a wooden fence in front of me, maybe five feet high. I’m in no condition to climb it, and it’s too dark to search for the gate.
Screw it.
I drop my right shoulder, grit my teeth, and find an extra bit of speed. I feel my legs shaking with each step, but if I slow down now, I’ll start thinking about how stupid an idea this is, and that won’t get us anywhere except dead.
I shout out as I collide with the fence, hoping it’s not secretly a wall.
It’s not.
I crash through it, over-balancing and stumbling forward to the ground. Ruby vaults over me and continues running toward the light, which is indeed shining through an open door. I scramble to my feet, scooping up a piece of wood as I do. It might come in handy.
I’m in a large backyard, which I’m guessing is shared by the residents of the building I’m about to trespass in. It’s too dark to make anything out, apart from the one guy standing outside, having a smoke. His confused expression is illuminated by the end of the cigarette. Given the lack of reaction, I have to wonder what exactly he’s smoking.
I follow Ruby inside, hoping no one decides to start firing again. There are innocent people around now. I hate the idea of putting civilians in danger, but this is the only way to put some distance between us and the remaining assassins.
I see Ruby a few paces ahead of me. We’re in a long, dimly lit corridor, which I’m hoping leads to the front entrance of the building. There’s a maintenance room on the left. An open door leads to a laundry room on the right. Thankfully, there’s no sign of anyone besides Cheech back there.
The Devil You Know Page 11
