Wicked Bronze Ambition

74

Four people accompanied Mariska Machtkess, surrounding her in a loose rectangle. Front left and right rear were gray rat men of the sort we’d seen earlier. Neither Dollar Dan nor Mud Man had mentioned their presence.

Deliberately? Probably. But it didn’t matter much.

Moonslight didn’t look like she was under duress. She was talking steadily, too softly to hear but obviously deeply unhappy. I wished I had my magic ear back. Be interesting to know why she was feeling blue.

We should know soon enough. I meant to drag her straight to Macunado Street.

I gave the ever-so-clever signal: “Get them!”

Pounce! And multipounce! The bad boys got neutralized before they understood that they were being hit. Likewise, and especially, Moonslight. She, for one breath, looked like she meant to resist, then lapsed into a resigned “this is too good to be true” attitude.

“Tara Chayne. You’re getting sly in your old age. I never felt a thing. And you my twin.” Dramatic sigh. “I’d given up on you.”

Moonblight replied, “You were always covered. My rat man friends were there all the time. You seemed safe enough. But when things started happening elsewhere, I decided to get you back.”

Last light was almost gone. It was hard to tell, but I thought Moonslight looked a little gray.

I exchanged glances with Singe. We definitely had to fix her up with the Dead Man.

Singe’s eyes widened. I spun to see why.

The light was awful. Flecks of rain had begun to fall. Even so, there was no mistaking the little blonde atop the cement maker’s shed.

Singe stepped close, grabbed my left arm with both hands. She had a sudden case of the sniffles. She got up on tiptoe to whisper, “We are no longer alone.”

Brevet Captain Deiter Scithe stepped on her line. “So, what is this all about, Garrett?”

He had not turned up alone. Shadows moved all round, closing in.

I had to get rid of that Civil Guard tracer.

“Don’t you ever stop working?” No point mentioning that I didn’t find it useful to have the Civil Guard in my hip pocket all the time. He would refuse to be convinced.

“They won’t let me stop while you keep getting into mischief. Guess who my wife hates more than her mother-in-law?”

“Somebody kidnapped Moonblight’s sister. Singe’s connections helped us find her. We came to get her back.”

“I’m beginning to understand why the Director and General Block get hysterical about you. That feels like it’s true but smells like it’s only a fraction of the truth. That’s work that should be left to the Guard. It should have been reported when it happened.”

I shrugged. “You’re another one with serious trust issues.”

“Well, duh. You have an interesting mix here.”

I thought he meant my companions, and maybe he did, some, but he was staring at the baddies when he said it.

“Yeah. You hardly ever see gray rat men working with another race.”

“As you say. My bosses will be interested in that.”

I concentrated on self-control. This was where being the usual me might earn me a difficult row to hoe later on.

Scithe said, “Here’s a thought. The Director won’t like it, but I am the senior on the scene, with full situational discretion. And, honestly, you and your friends did all the work. It would be less than fair to confiscate your whole harvest, however much I have the law and courts behind me.”

I put my hands over the seat of my pants. Somebody was about to get bent over.

It took me a moment to realize that Scithe was messing with me. He was wasting time deliberately. He suggested, “Let’s split the haul. You take a rat and a thug, I’ll take a rat and a thug.”

“Works for me.”

Brownie took a stance in front of Scithe, bared her teeth, growled a growl that made her sound more exasperated than threatening.

Scithe grinned. “Ferocious sidekick, Garrett. Going to pee my pants leg, girl?”

“You never know,” I said. “She has character.”

Clever, clever, ever-slick Tara Chayne Machtkess used the distraction to ease Mariska away from the Brevet Captain. Mariska did nothing to make that difficult. She was disinclined to head into durance in a place unlikely to be hospitable. Denizens of the Al-Khar had been born again into the faith of the law. She preferred traditional privilege.

One or both sisters did something intended to make themselves less notable.

Scithe was not fooled. “Miss Machtkess, ma’am, I understand that you want to share an emotional reunion after a successful rescue. But your sister should come see us at the Al-Khar as soon as she can so we can collect information about the scofflaws involved.” He winked at me. “That will give you time to get your stories straight.”

He didn’t quite mean what he said. He was, actually, counting on the Dead Man’s superior interrogation techniques.

He winked again as a rogue raindrop the size of a robin’s egg smacked him square in the third eye.

He yelped. “Steng, Split, snag that one and that one and let’s go. Maybe I can get my supper before midnight.”

Brownie growled again. So did her henchmutts. This time, though, she didn’t care about Deiter Scithe. The dogs all glared at the cement maker’s heating tower, where the little blonde’s good buddy stood silhouetted against what little gray light remained. He stepped off the back side and vanished.

Tara Chayne asked, “What was that?”

“I’m really starting to wonder why that girl turns up whenever my life gets interesting.”

“Does she? Every time?”

I shrugged. Maybe not. “Well, no. Frequently.” There had been times that I hadn’t seen her. But that was all that meant. She might have been watching. “I’m just really wondering why.”

“Let’s take sis to dinner at your place.”

“That’s a great idea.”