by Dan Willis
Better safe than sorry.
Grabbing the slide, Alex cocked it gently, trying not to make any noise. The bolt clacked loudly as it locked into place, but no response came from the bedroom.
Wide awake now, Alex crossed back to the bedroom. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the handle with his left hand and pushed the door open, following it with his gun at the ready.
Whatever Alex expected to find in the bedroom of the second-best suite in the Hay-Adams Hotel, it wasn’t the sight of Sorsha Kincaid asleep on his bed. She was dressed in her professional attire, a woman’s jacket cut to look like a man’s suit coat, with a button-up shirt and slacks. Her shoes were pumps, mostly to compensate for her stature, but they were on the floor by an overstuffed chair in the corner.
Alex just stood there for a moment, his gun still raised, as he looked at her. Even asleep, her beauty was captivating. He hadn’t made any sound, but something woke her.
“Alex,” she gasped, sitting up and blushing furiously.
“Sorceress,” Alex said, lowering his gun and leaning against the door frame. “If you needed a place to sleep, you should know I’m always willing to share my bed.”
He didn’t think it was possible, but she blushed even more as she practically leapt to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” she said smoothing out her rumpled clothes. “I came for two reasons. First, because…because I wanted to say I’m sorry.” She looked up, but had trouble meeting his eyes. “For this morning.”
Alex sighed. He was having fun teasing her and then she went and turned the conversation serious.
“I’m sorry too,” he admitted. “You and I both know you don’t need my help to do your job with the FBI. I never meant for anyone to think that.”
“I know,” she said. “I was just frustrated, and I took it out on you.”
It felt like there was a heaviness in the room, so Alex decided to move the conversation along.
“Well, Goldilocks, if you didn’t come over to find out if my mattress is just right, why are you here?”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. After a moment she hung her head.
“I need your help,” she whispered.
12
Collusion
Alex raised an eyebrow as he watched Sorsha try to meet his gaze. After the tongue lashing she’d given him that morning, her admission must have really cost her. Resisting the urge to tease her further or rub her admission in, Alex gave her a reassuring smile.
“You know I’m always here for you,” he said, stepping away from the door frame. “Let’s have a drink and you can tell me what you need.”
He turned and led the way back out into the suite’s front room. A large liquor cabinet with doors of etched glass stood beside the writing desk, and Alex opened it to find a row of glass bottles with liquids of varying colors. Since they weren’t labeled, Alex opened the one that looked the most like bourbon, Sorsha’s drink of choice. Pouring the burgundy liquid into two glasses, he carried them around to the couches that faced the windows.
“Now,” he said, handing Sorsha a glass and directing her onto the couch. “What seems to be the problem?”
Sorsha sat down, setting her drink on the side table with a sigh. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Alex sat in a comfortable chair next to the couch and waited. She stayed slumped forward for a long moment, then looked up at Alex, picked up her glass, and drained it.
“I’ve been taken off the Young case,” she said.
Alex wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Sorsha was the FBI’s hotshot, celebrity consultant. Why go through all the trouble of bringing her down from New York just to kick her off the case? Besides, having a sorcerer working with the FBI lent an air of infallibility to any resolution. Even if they didn’t need her impressive deductive skills, having her around was a bonus by itself.
“Why?”
“Something stinks about this case, Alex,” she said. “Did you know that Senator Young’s secretary died this afternoon?”
“I believe I heard something about that,” Alex said, not wanting to cop to his continuing involvement in the case just yet.
“Did you know that the doctors initially said she would make a full recovery?”
Alex nodded but then shrugged.
“Doctors aren’t always right,” he pointed out. “Is there some reason you find her death suspicious?”
“Don’t you?” she demanded.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I find it highly suspicious, just like you, so what’s the problem?”
“The FBI is turning a blind eye to the whole thing,” she said, raising her glass before remembering that it was empty.
“No one at the Bureau thinks the secretary’s death is suspicious?” Alex asked, handing the sorceress his glass in trade for her empty one.
“Some of the agents do,” she said. “But Director Blake of the D.C. field office is having none of it.” Sorsha drained her new glass. “He’s convinced the note we found is genuine and the Senator’s death was a murder-suicide.”
Alex rubbed his chin as he watched Sorsha hold up the empty glass, trying to get whatever few drops remained in it. Detective Norton had told him pretty much the same story. Whoever had assassinated the Senator, they had powerful friends, friends who could not only arrange to hide a murder but could call off an FBI investigation when the cover-up didn’t stick.
He stood, taking Sorsha’s empty glass from her and moving past the couch to the liquor cabinet. Removing the crystal stopper from the decanter, he refilled the glasses.
“I see why you're frustrated,” he said, offering her one of the full glasses as he moved back to his chair. “But just what is it I can do to help you? I sincerely hope you’re not asking me to get rid of the local FBI director for you.”
Sorsha gave Alex a withering look as he sat down.
“Nothing so satisfying,” she growled. “That’s something I could handle myself.”
Alex had no doubt of that whatsoever. If Sorsha wanted to, she could probably make the man disappear without a trace. Unfortunately even an all-powerful sorceress would be brought to account for getting rid of a high-ranking federal agent.
“Alex,” she said. “I think someone assassinated the Senator and now they’re trying to cover it up.”
“Go on,” Alex said, not revealing that he already suspected exactly that.
Sorsha sighed and drained her third glass before continuing.
“You were so sure that Tiffany Young didn’t kill her husband,” she said. “I’ve learned to trust your instincts, so I did some checking,” she said. “I called in a favor from a Senator I helped out a few years ago and he put me in touch with a few of his colleagues.” She paused, then glanced at her empty glass and Alex’s full one. Alex sighed and handed it over. “Apparently Senator Young was well known as a deal maker,” Sorsha continued after sipping from the new glass. “He used his position to trade favors and grease palms all over the city and back at home. According to multiple sources, a lot of the people he did favors for were young, attractive women.”
“So his philandering wasn’t exactly a secret,” Alex concluded.
“No one had any direct evidence,” she said “None they were willing to share, anyway, but the inference was clear. I even heard one story of a lobbyist sending his handsome adult son over to the Senator’s residence to…persuade Mrs. Young to intervene with her husband regarding some bill or other.” Sorsha rubbed her left temple with her free hand. “If even half of what I heard was true, there’s no way Tiffany Young didn’t know what her husband was up to.”
“I know,” Alex said. “Tiffany explained to me about their, uh, philanthropic endeavors.”
Sorsha glared at him over the rim of her glass.
“You could have told me that,” she said, “instead of letting me run all over town finding out for myself.”
Alex shrugged.
“You wanted me off the case,” he said
with an innocent smile. “You were very emphatic about it.”
Sorsha hung her head and let out an exasperated grunt.
“Look on the bright side,” Alex said. “Now we know that Tiffany’s story about her relationship with her husband is true. She also told me that Helen wanted to become a legal secretary for a big firm, one with several young, single partners.”
“So she had no motive to kill the Senator,” Sorsha confirmed.
“Certainly not one involving him leaving his wife for her.”
Sorsha sighed and finished her drink.
“So what do we do?” she said, leaning back into the couch.
Alex stood and refilled the glasses again.
“Here,” he said, handing her another one.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Maybe a little,” Alex admitted. “You see, I called Tiffany Young this morning to tell her I was off the case, just like I told you I would.”
Sorsha didn’t respond, but her expression hardened.
“That’s when she told me that bit about Helen wanting to become a legal secretary.”
Sorsha groaned.
“What did you do that I specifically told you not to?” she asked.
“I talked with the local police,” Alex said. “The detective in charge is a guy named Norton.” He went on to explain how the news of Helen’s death reached Detective Norton when Alex was there and how they’d gone to the hospital room and discovered the privacy rune.
“So I was right,” Sorsha said, sitting up.
“Of course you were,” Alex said, sipping his drink. “You’re very smart.”
Sorsha set down her glass, then reached across the little side table that separated the couch and Alex’s chair. Grabbing him by his tie, she pulled him forward and pressed her lips to his. After a kiss that was far too chaste for Alex’s liking, she let go.
“That’s for not listening to me,” she said with a smile.
Alex laughed at that.
“I’ll be sure to not listen to you more in the future.”
“Don’t you dare.” She returned his grin but her expression suddenly darkened. “Alex,” she said. “If you’re right about the rune, that means the assassin used rune magic.”
“Very proficiently,” he confirmed.
“You don’t suppose this is…” she hesitated. “Could this be Moriarty’s doing?”
Alex thought about that for a moment, then shook his head.
“Moriarty would never have botched the job this badly,” he said. “If he or any of the other immortals were behind this, Helen Mitchell would never have survived to begin with. There wouldn’t be any clues for us to find, to say nothing of the police.”
Sorsha began chewing her bottom lip, something she did when she was thinking. Alex found it adorable and started to smile…when the sorceress gasped and grabbed his arm.
“Who do we know who uses runes and meddles in politics?” she said, her voice hard and serious. If her tone hadn’t sent a shiver down his spine, the realization of who she meant would have.
“The Legion,” he answered with a nod. He hadn’t thought about that connection, but now that Sorsha said it, it made perfect sense. Their first interaction with the mysterious group of runewrights was when they had tried to rig a New York election. Killing a Senator to move a piece of legislation seemed like it was right up their alley.
“This must have something to do with whatever the Senator was voting on,” Sorsha said, finally catching up.
“That’s what Detective Norton and I figured,” he said. “He’s got a contact in the Senate clerk’s office and I’m going to talk to Tiffany tomorrow to see if we can’t figure out what this is about.”
“As I mentioned, I have a contact in the Senate,” Sorsha said. “I’ll talk to him and see if he can think of anything on the docket that might rise or fall with Senator Young out of the way.”
“You want me to tell Detective Norton that you’re coming in on this with us?”
Sorsha shook her head, leaning back on the couch with a sigh.
“Just introduce us. If Director Blake finds out you’re helping me in any way, that’ll be it for my work as an FBI consultant.”
“What about Stevens?” Alex said, thinking back to when he met the director of the New York FBI office. “He likes you.”
“Director Blake is the Bureau’s golden boy,” she said. “His opinion carries more weight than that of Director Stevens.”
“Well, look on the bright side. If the FBI fires you, you can always come to work with me at the agency.”
Sorsha narrowed her eyes and glared at him.
“You are not funny,” she said, but there was no energy behind her words. She leaned back against the couch and sighed. “I’m tired,” she mumbled.
Sorsha’s eyes slid shut as the bourbon finally caught up with her.
With a sigh of his own, Alex finished his own drink, then got up and carried Sorsha back into his bedroom. A few minutes later, he returned and opened the door to his vault. Sorsha might have kicked him out of his bed, but with a bedroom in his vault, at least he didn’t have to sleep on the couch.
The problem with sleeping in a vault was that there wasn’t any outside light to indicate the time of day. As a result, Alex had a large bedside alarm clock in his vault bedroom. The problem with that was that he didn’t sleep in the vault very often and that meant every time he did, he had to wind the clock and set it from his pocketwatch. Even when he was sure that he’d done it right, Alex found he slept a bit worse in the vault from worrying he’d wake up late.
When Alex did wake up, however, it wasn’t because of the alarm. One minute he was sleeping and the next he was aware of a presence in the room. With an incoherent cry, he grabbed his pistol from under his pillow and leapt out of bed.
“Keep it down,” Sorsha said from the doorway. She still wore the clothes she’d had on when he dropped her in his hotel bed but now they were rumpled and untucked. Her eyes were closed, and she had a hand firmly pressed to her forehead. “I’ve got the mother of all hangovers,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Where do you keep your medicinal potions?”
Alex lowered the gun he was pointing right at the sorceress’ head and tried to slow his thundering heartbeat.
“Why should I waste party blaster on you?” he grumbled, glancing at his clock which read six-twenty. Party blasters were potions that would reduce and sometimes eliminate the effects of a hangover.
“You’re the one who got me drunk,” she mumbled. “Give, now.”
This last was less of a command and more the sorceress’ desire to not provoke her throbbing head with an excess of words.
“Fine,” Alex said, tossing his 1911 onto the bed. He led the stumbling sorceress across the great room to the hall on the far side. Originally the hall on that side only led to a cover door that connected to his office and one to his apartment. Recently, however, Alex had added a new room. He opened the plain door on the side of the hall and led Sorsha into a white tile room with a doctor’s exam table in the center.
This was Alex’s infirmary.
It wasn’t as large or as well stocked as Iggy’s, but then Alex wasn’t a doctor. What it did have were all the potions, remedies, and medicinal runes a lay person would need to patch up minor injuries.
On the wall on the left side was a row of glass-front cabinets. Alex passed the doors until he found one with potion bottles inside.
“Here,” he said, pulling a small, purple bottle from the top shelf.
Sorsha didn’t hesitate, she pulled the cork stopper from the top, then tipped the potion up, swallowing it in one go.
“The sink is behind you,” Alex chuckled.
Sorsha pried one of her bloodshot eyes open and regarded him with as much disdain as she could manage with her palm pressed to her forehead.
“I’m not going to throw up,” she insisted. “I’m a woman of culture and refine…refinement.”
> True to her word, she didn’t appear sick, but she did turn a lovely shade of green before the potion completed its work.
“Yuck,” she said at last, running her fingers through her hair in a vain attempt to smooth it down. “Party blasters are so vile it makes me want to give up drinking.”
“Let’s not go to extremes,” Alex said, trying and failing to stifle a grin. “How did you sleep?”
“In my clothes,” Sorsha said with a disapproving frown. “Though under the circumstances. I suppose I’m grateful for that.”
“If you want to come back tonight,” Alex said, “I’m sure that between the two of us, we can correct that error.”
“Don’t do that,” Sorsha said, putting her hand back on her forehead again. “You’re far too charming to make passes at me this early in the morning.”
She turned and headed back out in the direction of the hotel suite.
“I can have the hotel bring up some breakfast,” Alex offered, following her. “Unless you think eggs are too charming to eat at this hour.”
“Eggs would be lovely,” she said. “But I suggest you put some pants on before the bellhop brings them up.”
Sorsha had slept in her clothes, but Alex had slept in his undershirt and boxer trunks. Trying not to blush, he headed for his room and quickly dressed.
“I ordered breakfast,” Sorsha said when Alex finally emerged from his vault.
“How am I supposed to explain your presence in my room at this hour?”
Alex wasn’t angry, but if someone decided to bring the in the hotel detective, it would cause trouble. Sorsha, however, didn’t seem worried about any potential difficulty Alex might have.
“I’m a sorceress, Alex,” she said with a bored air. “I can teleport wherever I want, whenever I want.”
