by S. C. Stokes
My cheeks flushed red. Notoriety was not what I'd been going for with my harried flight from the museum. Unsure of what to say, I opted for silence.
Red eyed me carefully. I could feel the judgment in his stare.
“Yes, from non-existent to most wanted in a matter of minutes, and then forgotten just as quickly,” he said. “You must teach me that trick, though I dare say your father's friends had something to do with it?”
I kept my mouth shut. It was worth more than my life to talk freely about the Brotherhood. Secret societies frowned on that sort of thing.
The Red Knight seemed well informed, but I had no way of measuring what information he was privy to, and what he was not. It wouldn't do to bandy about the Brotherhood's operations. Secret organizations tended to frown on that sort of thing. I also doubted it would do anything to engender Red’s confidence.
Red slapped me on the back. “Don't worry, young Seth. I've known about your father's little boys’ club for some time. They wanted me to join at one point, but I'm more of an independent contractor than a team player. Besides, our goals are somewhat different, but that isn't to say we can't find an accommodation that suits us both.”
I let out a low breath. “I hope so. I’m looking for something quite particular.”
Red held a finger up to my mouth. “That’s a conversation for a more private setting. While you might enjoy the protection of your father's influence, I remain quite popular with her Majesty's more dutiful agents. Seth, I have an appointment I can’t be late for, so if you don't mind accompanying me, we can speak on the way.”
Red’s words were congenial, but I could tell I had little choice in the matter. If I wanted his information, I was going to have to play along with his game.
“Lead the way,” I replied, pointing at his car.
Charles stepped close but Red raised a hand. “Sorry, friend, but we only have room for one. They might sell the Mercedes as a five-seater. What do they say about car salesmen? Slipperier than an eel dipped in baby oil. But let’s be serious, on the best of days it’s a modest four, and you my man would take two seats all on your own. I’m not at all fond of the squeeze, but not to worry. You wait here. We’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Charles shook his head. “Frank's instructions were clear—I go where Seth goes.”
Red smiled, showing his top row of pearly white teeth. “I’m sure he was. But it’s my ride. I set the rules. So you’ll be staying here. Don’t worry, I’ll have him back to you before you know it.”
“Not going to happen,” Charles said, looming over Red, who didn’t move an inch. “It's both of us, or none of us.”
Red looked up at the towering bodyguard. “Your diligence is admirable, Charles, noteworthy even, but I’m not in the habit of making compromises. None of you it is. Seth, it was a delight to meet you. I hope our next chat will be a little more fruitful.”
Red signaled to Tan and turned for the car.
Charles just watched him go. My heart sank as the connoisseur of crime strode back to the waiting Mercedes.
I couldn’t afford to leave empty handed.
Red slid into the back of the Mercedes, leaving the door open for Tan who paused at it.
Resting my hand on Charles’ chest, I said, “Relax, I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't worry, I'll deal with Dad. He's used to me not doing what I'm told.”
Charles gripped my wrist. “Be careful, Seth. It's the ones with silver tongues and smiling eyes that are the most deadly.”
I nodded, eased his hand off my wrist, and took off after Red. Charles’ warning still rang in my ears as I slipped into the back of the Mercedes. Tan slid the door shut behind me.
What was I getting myself into?
Tan slipped into the passenger's seat and driver pulled out into the London traffic.
I glanced at Red and found he had a smile on his face.
The Mercedes turned North onto the A5. Old brick buildings lined each side of the busy stretch. Some of their first-floor storefronts had been renovated but the majority of the buildings looked every bit their age, their paintwork faded and peeling.
“Tell me, young Seth,” Red began, “just what is it that you need that your father's near limitless resources can't get you? Can't be money or power. You have plenty of both already. What do you want from a humble purveyor of petty crime?”
In spite of his words, there was an air about the man that conveyed complete control. Edward Knight was anything but a petty criminal. He went about his business without a care in the world, in spite of the fact that most governments would pay handsomely for his capture. He had all the concern of a man out for a Sunday stroll about the town. He either didn't care about the risk, or as I was beginning to suspect, didn’t feel as if he were at risk at all. It spoke volumes about the breadth of his own influence.
“Information,” I replied. “There is something I must know and my father believes you to be the best chance of finding it.”
Red’s eyes narrowed on me. “Information is a dangerous currency. Knowledge is power, and the kind you're after might be important to you, but I dare say if you have to come to me for it, its sharing will disturb someone in my orbit. Who is it you are hoping I will tattle on?”
I raised my hands. “I, uh, don't need you to tattle on anyone. I'm just looking for a location.”
Red let out a throaty chuckle. “I'm just playing with you, Seth. Relax, let us consider what you need, and we can determine a fair price for the information. Tell me more.”
“I'm looking for a location in Panama,” I began. “It has been well concealed, and my family has sought it for some time. We believe another organization have recently stumbled across it. We need to know where it is, so that we can intervene before too much damage is done.”
Red pulled the central seat down until it formed an armrest that he leant on heavily, the motion bringing him much closer to me. “Panama, fascinating. It’s been such a quiet little part of the world until recently. You'll be the second person to ask a favor concerning Panama in as many weeks. I dare say that's no coincidence.”
“The second?” I asked, my voice rising. “Who was the first?”
Red smiled. “Easy, Seth, I'm going to need to know more before I can help you.”
I brushed my sweating palms against my slacks and hoped Red wouldn’t notice. “There is a site of archaeological significance near Portobelo. We suspect it's been buried for some time. We know that someone has recently uncovered its location. We suspect the Spanish are involved, and my father believes that someone, perhaps even yourself, is responsible for moving a large contingent of individuals and equipment to this location.”
Red sighed. “No coincidence at all, I suppose. Then again it seldom is.”
“So it was you?” I asked, my heart beating a little faster.
“I know the place of which you speak. I was indeed responsible for moving a consignment of men and earthmoving equipment. They paid a handsome price for the transport, but my discretion is what keeps me in business. The only reason they contracted me and not someone else, is to keep themselves and that location you mentioned off the radar to the rest of the world. If you go showing up there, what do you think that's going to do for my reputation? I don't see how I can possibly give you what you want, without angering my existing clientele. They themselves are an organization of not inconsequential means. Such petty conflict would be bad for business.”
“I can make it worth your while,” I offered. “You know Caldwells are good for it.”
Red waved his hand as if he were shooing a bad smell. “I have enough money. More than I can spend in many lifetimes and accruing more at a rate that would boggle your mind. They say a life of crime doesn't pay, but those people simply lacked imagination. I find it pays spectacularly well. It's one’s life expectancy that is the concern. The information you seek can’t be had for money, I'm afraid.”
“Then what?” I replied. “I have a considerable collection
of arcane relics. Perhaps there is something in my collection that might help a man in your position. A little magic can tilt the odds in your favor. Perhaps something that might balance the scales on your life expectancy concerns.”
Red tapped his fingers slowly on the rich leather armrest. “An intriguing proposition, but dabbling with the arcane is something I'm not quite comfortable with. I don't have the talents you wizards bandy about as a birthright. It's a tempting proposition to be sure, but one that brings with it risks of its own.”
The Mercedes peeled off the A5 into Oxford Lane. Brick buildings had given way to a commercial district with warehouses stretching as far as the eye could see. The buildings were old and beat down but still close enough to London to be valuable.
“Fascinated as I am by your request, Seth, I don’t believe that I can accommodate it. I'm sorry to have wasted your time. If you can bear with me, we will just be a few minutes taking care of business here, then I will get you back to the hall.”
My heart sank. I’d torched my life in New York just to get the mask. Now I was face-to-face with someone who had the information I needed but simply wouldn't part with it. I couldn't stop here. I couldn't walk away now.
I needed to know where the temple was.
I looked at Red, my heart beating quickly as I weighed my options.
Red leaned in a little closer. “Careful, Seth, I wouldn't dream of that if I were you.”
“Of what?” I replied, a bead of sweat running down the back of my neck.
“Whatever it is you're planning. I know desperation when I see it. You're weighing your choices, but can't possibly know the extent of the consequences. Does it not give you pause to know that I’m willing to both hear out and dismiss you, a wizard, and a wealthy one at that, with no seeming concern for my well-being?”
It was true. His bodyguard hadn't even pat me down or checked me for weapons. Clearly, he didn’t see me as a threat.
Red whispered, “You might be a wizard, Seth, but I am a man of means, reputation, and single-minded focus. There is little I set my mind too that I cannot make happen. Your father has friends in high places—I have friends in low places. I take no pleasure in it, but if you try to force my hand, I will be compelled to rain hell down on you and those you know and love. I have a reputation to uphold. Whether you fail or succeed, you would bring catastrophic consequences on those you care for. Everyone has someone they care for. Don't make me find yours.”
Red’s threat hung heavily in the air between us. I let out a low breath and sank back into the seat as the car pulled into a driveway that led to an old steel shed. Its angled corrugated roof had seen better days. As the car approached, the door rolled up revealing a warehouse with wooden crates piled throughout it.
The car pulled into the warehouse and Red flashed me a smile. “I'm going to need you to relax, Seth. We can't have your nerves setting off my clients.”
Inside the warehouse was a large truck, its rear open. A large black polymer case rested before it. Beside the case stood a man and woman in jeans and thick parkas. The man wore a set of aviators and had a jawline that should have been on a Hollywood set, not a dingy warehouse in North London. The woman hanging off his arm was striking, olive skinned with curves that her jeans did nothing to hide. Her sparkling brown eyes settled on the Mercedes as I forced my gaze away.
About twenty paces beyond the case were a pair of SUVs beside which stood a handful of men in slacks and open collared shirts. They made no effort to conceal the guns tucked in holsters at their waists.
I began to panic as they all eyed the car. What were we doing here? My stomach twisted itself in knots as I considered the possibilities. I’d left Charles in London and accompanied one of the world’s most dangerous criminals to an unknown location filled with armed and potentially hostile parties. I already knew that Red had business with the Inquisition. Had he sold me out?
I eyed the crate and my heart raced.
Was this an abduction? I’d evaded them at the airfield. Maybe they wanted to kidnap me and trade me to my family for the mask.
I gathered my power about me. If the Inquisition wanted me, I wasn’t going quietly.
“What are we doing here, Red?” I asked. “Why have you brought me here?”
11
Red flashed me a smile that showed the top row of his teeth. “An arms deal of course. Come along.”
I sat still, not convinced. Something felt wrong. I felt like a death row inmate being walked to my execution.
Red beckoned with one hand. “Come now, Seth. There is nothing to be concerned about. I'll just collect my fee, make the introductions, and we can be on our way. I'll have you back to the hall in time for this evening's performance.”
An arms deal? In North London. Red wasn’t even sweating. Clearly, he had ice water flowing through his veins. I’d only been looking for information but now I found myself accessory to who knew how many crimes.
Red put his hand on the door and leaned down. “Now, Seth. You might make them nervous if you stay in the car. Two minutes, in and out. We’ll be fine.”
I let out a deep breath and opened the door.
I followed Red who strode boldly between the two groups. Both parties regarded each other with equal parts skepticism and greed. It was the kind of gathering only absurd economic gain could make you foolish enough to attend.
“Greetings, everyone,” Red began. “I’m glad you could make it. I thought it prudent we should meet to discuss this lucrative new opportunity. If we’re going into business together, you both need to know who you're dealing with. I always find such things encourage a modicum of restraint and self-control. Always easier to keep trust with those you've met face-to-face. Those you have had the opportunity to look in the eye and get the measure of.”
“Who’s the kid, Red?” one of the open collared thugs called. The bottom half of his face was completely obscured by three inches of scraggly sandy beard.
“How rude of me,” he replied, placing a hand on his vest. “Allow me to make some introductions.”
“I'd rather you didn't,” I muttered through clenched teeth, quietly enough that only Red could hear me.
If Red heard me, he certainly didn't pay me any heed. “This is Seth Caldwell, heir to the Caldwell mining concern. A new friend and somewhat reluctant venturer into this world of ours.”
“What's he doing here?” the thug asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Red licked his lips. “It's bring your apprentice to work day, and I could hardly leave him sitting at home. What would his mother think? I need to set an example. Come now, Victor, you of all men should know the importance of doing one's part.”
Victor bristled, his hands forming into fists at his side. “If you aren't going to give me a straight answer, simply say so. Don't waste my time with your endless gas bagging.”
Red fixed Victor with a stare that silenced the thug. “While we’re making our introductions, Seth, this is Victor Stedding of the scandal embroiled establishment known as the Churchmen. These are his crew, including his brother, Tony, that particularly enchanting gentleman in the blue shirt. Tony, have you been working out? You look… larger than I remember. Good for you. Where do you find the time?”
He shook his head as he looked at the mountainous thug. “Normally they would be joined by their brother, Adam, but if I'm not mistaken, he is currently serving a stint in Wakefield for armed robbery. I certainly hope you're not planning to use any of these wares for something nefarious.”
Red pointed a finger at the polymer case in the middle of the warehouse.
When Victor didn't respond, Red simply thrust his hands into his pockets. “Of course you are. Not to worry, Victor, your secret is safe with me.”
He rounded the crate heading for the couple. “Seth, these are a few of our friends from across the Atlantic, an ambitious couple who prefer to stay on their side of the ocean but have deemed this little opportunity worth a brie
f little jaunt across the Atlantic. Meet Lance and Charity. Don't let the name fool you, there are no freebies where they are concerned but fortunately, they have excellent connections. They always manage to find me the most exceptional hardware.”
Lance nodded and removed his aviators. He looked to Knight. “Red, normally we love to hang about and chat, but can we take care of business? Charity and I are on a tight window.”
Red nodded. “As am I. But if this little concern is to get off the ground, we best all understand how it will function. Lance and Charity will provide the toys. I'll facilitate the shipping and customs, for a healthy fee off the top of course. A gentleman would charge ten percent but hell, I just wouldn't feel right if I took anything less than twelve, so let's call it fifteen, shall we?”
Red raised his hands as if inviting a response. When no one moved, he smiled. “Excellent. I'll ensure the guns arrive safe and sound, bypassing the local authorities without any issue, and the Churchmen can take delivery, right here in London in the heart of their territory. What you do with the guns after that, is up to you. Payments will be cash on delivery. Are there any questions?”
Victor took a step toward Red. “No, but I do want to inspect the merchandise. Make sure it lives up to our expectations. We’ve been burnt before. Dud merchandise makes us look bad to our buyers.”
“We wouldn't want that now, would we,” Lance said, stroking his chin. “The merchandise is good. Come look for yourself.”
He lifted the lid on the polymer case. Packed neatly within it was row upon row of assault rifles. I didn’t recognize the make, but the barrels looked heavily modified. The crate must have had at least a dozen rifles. Beside them were enough magazines to start a small war.
“The KNG 450,” Lance said. “Next-generation hardware, fresh from the lab. It packs a savage round that will punch through most standard issue body armor. A sustained burst will cut through a Kevlar vest with terminal consequences for the owner. These rifles are the latest toy out of Harrington Industries. Earmarked for their government contracts, we're the sole distributors of a small consignment of each manufactured run. They are unmarked and untraceable.”
