Game Of Cages (2010) (19 page)

"Uh ...," I said, trying to think up a plausible lie. She rolled her eyes, stubbed out her cigarette on the scarred edge of the Dumpster, and turned her back on me. She couldn't have cared less.

After she went inside, I laid a wooden pallet against the building and, with a running start, used it to jump up and get a grip on the edge of the roof. Thankfully, there was no broken glass here.

I pulled myself up and lay across the tarred paper. If I made too much noise, stood too high, or walked onto a section that couldn't support me, I was going to spend the night in jail. At best. I kept low, crawling on my hands and knees toward the edge of the building and the white wall of the motel.

I wondered how Catherine had been caught. They probably staked out the only place where we could have rented replacement cars. I should have tried to look more interesting; maybe they would have taken me instead.

The top of the motel wall was even with the drugstore roof. I swept the ghost knife through the glass shards, slid belly-down over the wall, and dropped between it and the nearest unit. There wasn't even enough space for me to turn all the way around. I edged toward the back of the building.

Each unit had a small window at the back that would have shown nothing but wall. Maybe it had once offered a view of the forest. I knew that peeking in a window with a big white background was a good way to be spotted. I peeked anyway.

The walls inside the unit were yellow and the bed-sheets a slightly darker yellow. It looked like an invalid's room. At the far end, a slender, dark-haired man in a black suit sat in a chair. He hunched forward to peer through a crack in the curtains into the courtyard. He had a Glock in his hand.

I ducked down and hurried to the next room. This one was empty. There were two more units in the row, but only the end unit was occupied.

I went back to the first empty room, cut the window out of the wall, and climbed through.

I took a towel from the bathroom and set it on the bed with the candle, newspaper, and lighter. One of the things people don't realize about prison is that it's vo-tech for criminals. The trick I was about to set up had been taught to me by a college kid who liked fire a little too much. I'd never tried it myself, but I remembered his instructions. At least, I hoped I did.

I set things up and climbed out the window, then used the narrow space between the end unit and the wall to scramble back over to the drugstore roof. Night was falling.

My hour was up. I lowered myself into the Dumpster alley and hustled around the buildings. The cellphone in my pocket vibrated. I didn't answer. The motel entrance was just ahead of me, and they could talk to me in person in a minute.

I paused at the arched entrance and slid my ghost knife into the stone. The only evidence that it was there was a paper-thin slot in the cinder block. No one would find it, and maybe it would be close enough for me to call if I needed it.

In the front office, the clerk looked up at me in surprise. He looked like he would appear surprised by the arrival of lunchtime.

"Which room is Mr. Yin's?" I asked.

A newspaper rustled behind me. A short, athletic Chinese man stood, stepped toward me, and dropped a comics section onto the floor. He didn't pull out a gun, but he did gesture toward the door with a slight bow and a polite smile.

We walked through the courtyard. Mr. Yin, of course, was staying in the room farthest from the entrance. It was a well-defended spot, but it didn't leave him an escape route--not unless he had a pogo stick that could bounce him over a ten-foot wall.

Drivers inside the BMWs and the Maybach started the engines and drove out of the lot.

My guide knocked on the door and led me inside. This one had a genuine painting on the wall. It showed a man in robes sitting on a hill between some twisted trees. It had been painted on something thinner than canvas, but I didn't know enough to identify it. The painting obviously didn't come with the room.

"Ah!" a middle-aged man said. He stood at the far end of the room, six bodyguards standing near him. This had to be Mr. Yin. He had a thick neck, a black suit, a placid smile, and a gold ring on every finger. His eyes were wide, almost bulging out of his head, as though he was studying everything around him. This was a billionaire?

A dark-skinned woman in a gray suit stood beside him. By the way she had wrapped up her hair in a bun, I figured she was Well-Spoken Woman.

I glanced over at the painting again. Maybe he took it with him everywhere. "You have an eye for quality!" Yin said. "Your attention goes directly to the most arresting object in the room. Excellent."

His English was better than mine. "Where's Catherine?"

"Close by," Mr. Yin said, "but not so close that you could kill us all and take her away unharmed." He was smiling at me. What the hell was he talking about?

He turned to the woman beside him. "Well?"

She was staring at the backs of my hands where my tattoos were most visible. Her eyes were shining, and she looked like a pirate who'd found buried treasure. "Mowbray Book of Oceans, I'd say. I'd need to see more to be certain."

This was not going as I'd expected. These were the nicest kidnappers I'd ever met. And that remark about killing them all ...

Of course.

I sighed and chuckled, mostly to buy myself time to reset my body language and tone. "I'm not here to play games," I said. "And I'm sure as hell not here to strip for you. I have a predator to kill. Give me my investigator, and I'll let you all get into your cars and drive away."

One of the gunmen drew his pistol and aimed it at me. It gave me goose bumps, but I kept my smile in place. Mr. Yin said something to him in Chinese. I couldn't understand the words, but the tone said Don't bother.

Yin thought I was a peer, which meant he also thought I was damn near bulletproof. I'd hate for his bodyguard to prove him wrong all over the cheap carpet.

"You must understand," Mr. Yin said. "I spent a hundred twenty-eight million dollars last night for the rights to that unusual creature. Then someone shot at us, allowing it to escape. I can't allow you to kill my dog, Mr. Lilly."

"You know it's making people murder each other. Parents have killed their own children. Do you really want to bring that thing into your house?"

"Ah, but these people are bumpkins, and Americans, too. I will exert more control."

His body language was still utterly self-assured, although he was wary of me, too. I knew my body language wasn't as confident as his, and I knew he'd noticed that.

I looked over at the man who had drawn his gun. He hadn't put it away. "What do you want for Catherine?"

The gunman and I looked at each other. He wasn't impressed with me, and I wanted to punch him right in his stupid smirk. I hate to be afraid.

"I propose a trade," Mr. Yin said. "I will return to you the woman, unharmed, if you will give me everything you brought with you for this mission: your computer, your files, your research books, and any enchanted artifacts you have on you."

He wanted my ghost knife. "You have to be kidding me."

"I also want safe passage out of the country and your personal assurance that you will not try to kill me or any of my descendants, ever."

"Do you want my left foot, too?"

"If your left foot is of value, then yes, I want it. I want everything a man can want."

He smiled, waiting for my answer. I didn't have any research books, of course. I didn't own a computer and I didn't have any files.

And my ghost knife was a part of me. I couldn't give it up, not even for Catherine.

Mr. Yin fussed with the lapel of his jacket. "You appear distressed," he said.

"Because you're wasting my time with this MBA negotiating crap. This isn't a boardroom where you ask for a long list of things you know you're not going to get so we can whittle all the way down to what you actually want. You're not getting away with the sapphire dog. The mayor has already asked the state police to block off the only two roads out of town."

Two of the gunmen seemed nervous about that--he had only brought two English-speakers. Yin wasn't nervous at all. "Another thing," I said. "You're not the only one out there looking for it. While we're chitchatting, one of the other bidders could be capturing it right now."

Suddenly Yin didn't seem so smug. "The sapphire dog is mine. I paid for it."

I rolled my eyes. "Keep telling yourself that, because I'm sure if one of the others had won the auction and then let the creature get away, you'd totally return it to them. Let's cut the crap and get to what you really want for my friend."

Yin smiled again. His contentment was like a suit of armor. "Your computer, your files, your research materials, your enchanted artifacts, your assurance of safety for my descendants and for me."

Annalise would have already started killing. "Here's my counteroffer: your life, and the lives of all your people, for as long as it takes me to have a turkey and ham at the Subway. I'm in the mood for pepperoncini. No guarantees after that."

He turned his lapel over. There was a patch of white fabric pinned to the other side, and it had a sigil on it.

I blinked. For some reason I was staring at the carpet from just a foot away. My iron gate felt as though someone was pushing a needle through it.

I was on my knees. Yin had hit me with a spell, and like an idiot, I had fallen for it.

I felt hands patting me down. They were searching me very thoroughly. Two men grabbed my wrists and cuffed my hands behind my back. I was too woozy to resist.

"You are not a peer," Yin said. His voice had a little twist of contempt. "At best, you are an apprentice, hm?" He kicked me in the shoulder, but my tattoos blunted the impact. "You dare try to bluff me? I admire your courage, but it will cost you your life."

"Okay," I said. "Okay." I tried to lift my head, but any movement at all made me dizzy. Instead, I pressed my forehead against the carpet and dragged my knees under me. With my hands cuffed, it was a struggle to keep from falling over. Still, I managed it.

It was the perfect position for one of these assholes to put a bullet in the back of my head. Just the thought made my guts watery. "Okay," I said again, looking up at Yin. "A sandwich and some chips. That's my final offer."

Instead of ordering his men to shoot me, he laughed. He said something in Chinese, and I was hauled into the bathroom.

Someone was already in there, sitting on the toilet. It was one of his own men, bound and gagged. Thank God his pants were up.

They spun me around and shoved me into the tub. They made a special effort to tear Nicholas's shirt.

I tripped over the rim and toppled back, smacking my head against the tile. I saw stars and the pain made tears well up. Damn, those tears made me furious. I was not going to let these bastards think--

"Mr. Lilly," Yin said. "See? This is the spot where your friend would be, if I actually had her. It seems we were both bluffing!" He laughed with a high, girlish giggle.

I blinked the tears away. Yin was waiting for a response. "You're full of shit," I said. "You had her phone. Where did you hide her?"

"I do have her phone, but not her. She is a clever woman. Your society has more wit left to it than I'd heard." He kicked the bottom of my foot. "Not in you, though. This fellow here"--he gestured to the man on the toilet--"is the one who let her escape, so he has taken her place.

"In many ways," Yin continued, "I am an innocent in this world. I'm merely a financier with a mania for collecting. Without my collection, I would have no use for my money or these good, brave men. And I would have no use for torture."

His tone was still calm and friendly. Nothing worried him at the moment. "Still," he continued, "we can hardly employ such methods here. But I have other options." He leaned close, wide-eyed and smiling. "I brought some of my collection with me."

He turned toward the door. Well-Spoken handed him something wrapped in a black cloth. It was smaller than a T-ball bat. He unwrapped it with reverence.

It was a long knife, or maybe a short sword. I don't know the difference and I don't care. The scabbard was black and gleaming like polished stone. Yin drew it with a sudden motion, then held it up to admire it. The blade was straight, and as wide as two thumb widths. It had been honed and polished, and it looked like an antique. Yin held it up to the light as though he was about to discuss its history, then he turned and stabbed the bound man through the throat.

I shouted something inane like "Hey!" Bound didn't have time to gasp. He froze, a grimace on his face. He looked around the room, finally stopping on me, and I thought how brutally unfair it was that I would be the last thing this stupid bastard ever saw.

Yin pushed the sword downward through his breastbone and stomach all the way to his belly button. He had to put his weight behind it, but it was not as difficult to cut through the bones as it should have been. Then he pulled the sword free. There was no blood, no cut, no wound at all. I stared at Bound, waiting for the blood.

Yin yanked off the man's gag. Bound looked up meekly and said something in Chinese. Yin seemed amused. "He has just apologized to me."

It's an illusion, I thought. Yin had a trick sword, and Bound was playing along.

But I had no idea why they would bother; I was already in cuffs and at their mercy. I looked back at Bound and realized I needed to change his nickname. The ropes he'd been tied with were lying on the floor in pieces. His clothes were cut open, too. I'd been so focused on looking for blood that I hadn't even noticed.

Bound slid down to his knees and hung his head.

"Do you see?" Yin asked, showing me the blade. There was a small sigil engraved near the hilt. "This mark is from the Ketrivisky Book of Oceans. This is a soul sword. It does not leave a mark on his flesh, but his will now belongs to me."

The bastard had a ghost knife of his own.

Yin studied the sword. "It is not as powerful as it was in the hands of the man who sold it to me. I'm sure you know what happens to magic each time it changes hands." He pointed it at me. "I wonder how many of the spells on your body I could cut before it shattered?"