Crucible Steele (Daggers & Steele Book 5) (17 page)

“So, what?” I asked. “Is this crucible a four-way fight to the death? Because if so, I think you’re giving Bonesaw there an unfair advantage.”

It was a joke, and as such I expected a reaction from Cobb. A snort of derision, a shake of his head, a roll of his eyes. He gave me nothing. The guy was cold as ice. “No. That wouldn’t showcase the sorts of talents we’re interested in acquiring.”

“What, then?” asked Kyra.

Cobb leaned against the crumbling wall through which he’d stepped. He pretended to inspect his fingernails. “It’s simple, really. Are you all familiar with the Metropolitan?”

“The museum or the opera house?” asked Kyra.

“The former,” said Cobb. “Have you been recently? There’s an exhibition at the moment featuring several pieces on loan from the Proteco overseas. It’s quite marvelous, and the jewel of the exhibit, so to speak, is a trio of precious stone-encrusted brooches, forged by the famed master Gustav Trogeré. If memory serves me correctly, there’s a hummingbird, an octopus, and a hydra.”

“What are the rules?” asked Bonesaw.

Cobb ticked them off on his fingers. “No fair harming your fellow competitors, either before arrival at the destination or after possession has been established. No fair preventing them from taking part in the contest, either by kidnapping, disabling, or any other means. And no mention of this to anyone—win, lose, or otherwise.”

A squeaky, too-high voice sounded behind me, and I realized it was Ted. No wonder he kept his mouth shut. “What about prize redistribution prior to the drop?”

Ted was getting technical. I wasn’t even sure what I was getting myself into, yet.

“I stated the rules of the contest in their entirety,” said Cobb.

That seemed to satisfy Ted.

“And the drop?” asked Kyra.

Cobb found a patch of flat debris and sat down. He folded his arms. “Why do you think I wore the beaver? I’ll be here.”

My new acquaintances took one quick look at each other and scattered, leaving me in the dust. It took me a few seconds before I figured out I should get moving, too.

26

I figured Kyra and Ted would disappear into the night in short order, but I didn’t anticipate Bonesaw’s transformation into a ghost. To be fair, his skin gave him a natural advantage, but unfortunately for him, his size would work against him. No rickshaw driver in the world would take him, and if they tried they would’ve collapsed in a heap after a bare half mile.

I, on the other hand, found a spry looking driver after running west for a mile or two, and with the promise of multiple silver eagles for his best efforts, we set off toward the Pearl district and the Metro at breakneck speed.

Compared to the desolate lot of our meeting, the Pearl hopped like a young bunny. Rich revelers were out in force, braving the winter cold in their heavy coats. Knowing there was a show at Magister Hall—because when wasn’t there—I told my driver to skirt south and take 3
^rd
, otherwise we might’ve gotten snarled in traffic and I’d have been doomed.

As it was, he dropped me off down the street from the Metro with me feeling good about my chances. I took a quick loop around the block, partly to see if I spotted any of my competitors but also to case the building. On the first count I did well. Kyra, Ted, and Bonesaw were nowhere to be seen, and I couldn’t imagine all three had beat me and infiltrated the building already. On the second count, however…

Despite being situated on the edge of the Pearl, The Metro was old town New Welwic: a hulking stone building held up as much by tenacity and force of will as by the granite columns that encircled it. You’d think a building that old would have cracks and crevices galore, but the piles of stone were as tight as an angry schoolmarm’s lips. I doubt an anorexic rat could’ve sneaked in unless someone left a window open overnight, and those were covered by lattices of steel bars over an inch thick each. Lacking a blueprint of the museum, my only route inside would be through the front doors, but the problem with that strategy was the museum closed at ten.

The curators of the museum weren’t fools. They knew as well as Cobb and I did that the Metro held all sorts of delectable delights behind its impenetrable walls, from jewels to arms and armor to ancient decorative vases, which was why they’d parked a small army of hired goons outside of each entrance. I regarded them for a few minutes from the shadow of a building across the street, but their broad foreheads and tight jaws didn’t give me much reason for hope.

I racked my brain. I needed a strategy, and I needed one fast. Despite the guards, I didn’t for a minute think they’d stop the others I competed against. I had a sneaking suspicion Kyra and Tim, at least, had extensive experience in
repossessions
, as it were, and while I didn’t know the extent of Bonesaw’s mental faculties, I got the impression he wasn’t as dumb as he looked. But how could I get in? I had no hands-on experience with heists. Heck, I barely had any hands-off experience. I worked in homicide.

Exactly. I worked in homicide.
Even though I was off duty, I was still a cop—a detective, no less—and that gave me several advantages. Might as well use them, just as I had at Grant Street.

I took a deep breath and headed toward the museum’s front door, currently guarded by a quintuplet of thugs. I made a beeline for the one in front, a thick-necked john with a wide forehead and a serious case of cauliflower ear.

The guy saw me coming and shot an aggressive finger my way. “Get lost, bub. Museum’s closed.”

“You in charge?” I asked.

“You deaf?” he replied.
“Scram.”

I reached into my coat for the black leather wallet that housed my official insignia—something I only now realized I should’ve left home given my meeting with the Wyverns—and the goons all reached for their nightsticks.

“Whoa.” I held up a hand. “Slow down. I’m a cop. See?” I extended my badge.

Cauliflower Ear took it and gave it a once over. “Detective J. Daggers. That you?”

“No. I forgot mine in my other jacket and had to borrow my buddy’s. Come on, man.”

Cauliflower Ear’s sides failed to implode from laughter. He motioned to one of his flat-headed compatriots. “Sorkin. Take a gander at this. Look legit to you?”

Flathead took it and peered at it through narrowed eyes. I wasn’t sure if he was ex-police or merely an expert on forgeries, but either way my brass satisfied him. “Yeah, it’s the real deal.”

Cauliflower Ear took it back. “Okay, flatfoot. Whaddya want? Museum’s closed, despite whatever pull you think you’ve got. And it don’t look like you’ve got a hot date to impress, irregardless.”

I took advantage of the fact that all detective’s badges looked the same, irrespective of assignee’s department. “The word’s regardless. And I’m not here for a guided tour. I’m with robbery. We need to talk.”

The mention of my division, a lie though it was, caught his bulbous ear. “Robbery?”

“You’re got the Trogeré brooch exhibit on display at the moment, correct?” I asked.

Cauliflower Ear eyed his buddy with a blank expression on his face. Flathead nodded.

“Um…yeah. That’s right.”

“Well, you might not have it on display for much longer if you don’t listen up,” I said. “My team and I at the 5
^th
have been monitoring a gang of professional thieves known as the Crimson Blues.” It was a stupid name, but the first thing that came to mind. “Heard of them?”

Cauliflower Ear shook his head.

“Exactly,” I said. “Their own mothers barely know who these guys are. They’re ghosts, but luckily they make noise, and we’ve had our ears to the ground. We’ve known they’ve been planning something big for a while now, but we didn’t know what. Then this afternoon we intercepted an encrypted message from one of the Blues. We just figured out what it said. Want to take a guess?”

I could see the gears in Cauliflower Ear’s head grinding. “They’re…coming after the brooch exhibit?”

“Tonight,” I said. “Right after closing, as far as we can tell from the message. For all I know they’ve already been here.”

Cauliflower Ear snorted. “I don’t think so. We’ve got this place locked down tighter than a…a… Sorkin, help me out.”

Flathead lifted a finger and opened his mouth, but I beat him to the punch. I didn’t need to hear what vulgar metaphor he’d use, though I was pretty sure it would involve an underage girl.

“Look, you don’t understand,” I said. “The Blues are pros. They’re not going to waltz in through the front door. They have special equipment. Inside knowledge. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d paid people off. Not to mention some of them have
supernatural
abilities.”

That last part came to me out of the blue…or had it? Something about Ted rubbed me the wrong way. He’d been quiet—too quiet—and how had he ascended that crumbling building? I hadn’t noticed a staircase anywhere.

My appeal fell on a deaf, fist-mangled ear. “Sorry, pal. I’m sure your intel is good, but we would’a noticed if something was underfoot. We’ve got all the entrances covered and guards patrolling the inside as well.”

I felt my in slipping away, but I wouldn’t let myself be outwitted by a guy who took more shots to the head for a living than I did. “Just escort me to the exhibit. If nothing’s out of place, I’ll leave you be and let my team know it was a false alarm. If not…”

I left the last bit unsaid. Better to let it fester in the goon’s mind.

He chewed on my proposal for a few seconds. “Alright. Fine. Sorkin and I’ll take you. But no lollygagging, ya hear? Billings. You’ve got point until I return.”

Cauliflower Ear pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the front doors, and led me in, Flathead at my back. The Metro stretched out before me as I entered, its wide, open interior the perfect foil to the drab, heavy, outdated exterior.

Too bad I couldn’t see any of it. The lighting was pretty dim.

We briskly walked through several sections—fine art, antique arms and armor, and fossilized remains—passing a couple guards along the way before heading up a flight of stairs to geology and gemstones. There, after a magnificent display of purple and white geodes that probably weighed as much as a small barge, we found the Trogeré brooch exhibit.

It sat in the middle of a dome-like room, well lit by braziers that burned bright despite the hour, on a waist-high pedestal and protected under thick panes of crystal-clear glass. A few smaller display cases ringed the central one, but I ignored them and headed for the main event.

Cauliflower Ear extended a hand as we got close. “See? What’d I tell you? Everything’s in its place. Now let’s move it. I need to get back to my post.”

The guy’s commitment to standing in one place and glaring at passersby was commendable, but I made him wait. I sidled up next to the glass case and peered into it. A dozen thoughts raced through my mind. How would I distract the guards? How would I get through the glass? Could I liberate one of the brooches and sneak it out without Cauliflower Ear and his buddy giving me a pat down?

I got distracted by the contents of the case. Not the octopus brooch, wrought of platinum and studded with onyx and black diamonds, or the hydra, which featured dozens upon dozens of emeralds and a pair of gleaming ruby eyes. But there, in the third spot, rather than a hummingbird, was a white paperboard placard. On it, someone had drawn a racy pinup of an elf with her hindquarters prominently displayed.

I tapped the glass. “You…might want to take a look at this.”

Cauliflower Ear grunted as he joined my side. He looked at the display, for real this time. His eyes widened.

“Holy shit!” he said. “Sorkin! Get backup!”

I’m sure Sorkin would’ve done exactly as instructed, but like the rest of us, he was distracted by the sudden crescendo of heavy, heavy footsteps.

Bonesaw barreled into us from behind, smashing into Sorkin with the force of a bull. The flat-headed thug went flying, crashing into one of the satellite exhibits with a crunch. I dove to my side, trying to avoid Bonesaw’s fist as he collided with Cauliflower Ear, but the big ogre clipped me with his shoulder.

It wasn’t much, but it sent me spinning. I rolled as I hit the floor, three, four, five times until I bumped into another of the satellite exhibits. I shook my head and rose to my knees. By the main display, Cauliflower Ear aimed his nightstick at Bonesaw’s midsection—how had the guy pulled it out so fast?—but even armed, he was no match for the ogre. Blood streamed from the side of his face, and after a swing and a miss, Bonesaw put him down with a right hook.

He followed it with a fierce overhead smash to the display case, which exploded in a cloud of glass slivers that tinkled musically as they showered onto the floor. With a meaty hand scraped from the encounter, Bonesaw reached in and grabbed the hydra brooch. He turned toward the exit and bolted.

Before the big dude even showed me his backside, I’d honed and finalized a plan. Someday, I’d have to track him down and buy him a beer—assuming he didn’t crack me in half and eat me first.

I rose to my feet and took two steps toward the display case, but as I ran, the air around me crackled and
popped.
A thread of darkness from over by the wall zipped through the air. With a shimmer, Ted appeared by the display and reached for the octopus.

I’m not sure if I qualify as a quick thinker, but I am quick at reacting. Without slowing, I lunged forward and brought up my knee. Ted’s fingers closed around the brooch. The air shimmered again, but it was too late.

My knee collided with the bearded guy’s head with a sharp crack, and he dropped to the floor like a forty pound sack of potatoes. The brooch flew, clattering across the marble.

Although I wasn’t a lawyer, I’d spent enough time around them to be fairly sure my flying knee strike would adhere to Cobb’s guidelines. I didn’t know how long it would keep Ted out of the game, though, and now that I knew what he was capable of I felt a pressing need to vamoose in a hurry—not that Bonesaw’s exit gave me any other option.

I raced to the octopus and pocketed it as I glanced at the others. Cauliflower Ear lay on his back, out cold, while Flathead crouched on his hands and knees, puking and oblivious to my deceit. I shouted at him as I ran after Bonesaw.