The Librarians and the Lost Lamp (15 page)

Cassandra sighed. Despite the brief exhilaration of her epic blackjack run, she was in no hurry to return to Vegas, let alone to inform the rest of the team that they were back at square one. Pocketing the penny, she took the Back Door to Ali Baba's Palace, Jenkins having fine-tuned the coordinates to (hopefully) bypass the wedding chapel. A flash of light, along with a crackle of eldritch energies, deposited her in a backstage dressing room crammed with Vegas showgirls getting ready for a show. Sequined belly dancer costumes let Cassandra know she was in the right place, give or take a door. A leggy brunette looked up from a lighted makeup table, where she'd been applying her lipstick.

“You lost, babe?” She looked Cassandra over. “No offense, but aren't you a little short for a showgirl?”

“I'm a Librarian,” Cassandra explained. “And I'm only a little bit lost.…”

*   *   *

Skorzeny's was a downtown steakhouse just a block or two off the main action on Fremont Street. A far cry from the gaudy, theme-park excesses of Ali Baba's Palace, it was an unpretentious, old-fashioned eatery that wasn't pretending to be anything it wasn't. Exposed brick walls and wooden beams conveyed a cozy ambiance, while cloth tablecloths and linens provided a touch of class. Autographed photos of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Lauren Bacall, Sammy Davis Jr., and other legendary entertainers were framed upon the walls. Judging from the photos, the restaurant's decor hadn't changed much since the Rat Pack was in its prime. Classic crooners played softly over the sound system. A rolling salad cart went from table to table.

“Isn't this place great?” Dunphy asked, digging into his prime rib. “Real, old-school Vegas. Used to be a mob hangout back in the good old days. Everybody ate here: Bugsy Siegel, Meyer Lansky, that whole crowd. If you look close, you can still see a few bullet holes in the brickwork.”

“I can believe it.” Stone couldn't fault Dunphy's taste in restaurants. This place felt a whole lot more authentic than Ali Baba's, and the food was pretty good, too. He sprinkled some more black pepper over a thick rib-eye steak, cooked just the way he liked it. “So, you a local?”

“You bet,” Dunphy said. “I've got Vegas in my blood. Couldn't imagine living anywhere else.” He looked across the table at Stone. “Where did you say you were from?”

Stone hadn't, but saw no harm in volunteering the info. “Oklahoma, originally, although I'm working out of Portland these days.” He took advantage of the opportunity to try to find out more about Gus. “You one of those Vegas high rollers you hear about?”

Dunphy lowered his voice and looked around warily.

“Can't tell a lie. I've been making out like a bandit since winning the lottery last week. Poker, craps, roulette … you name it, I've been winning big time. And no penny-ante stuff. We're talking real money here.”

“Whoa.” Stone made sure to sound suitably impressed. “So what's your secret, man, if you don't mind me asking?”

Dunphy hesitated before answering, taking a gulp from a beer bottle to buy time.

“No secret, really. You just gotta trust your instincts, you know, and go for broke when Lady Luck comes your way. Trust me, I was way overdue for a hot streak, but I stuck it out and look at me now.”

Stone remembered the unpaid bills and past-due notices littering Dunphy's run-down trailer. Gus's luck had changed, all right, but he doubted his new buddy was being entirely straight with him. Maybe a few more beers would loosen his tongue?

“So that's all there is to it?” he asked. “Just seizing the day when you're on a roll?”

“Well, there's some skill involved, naturally.” Dunphy puffed up his chest. “You need to have a clear head, steady nerves, and the guts to roll the dice in the first place. Gambling is just like life, if you think about it. It's all about—”

“Excuse me, gentlemen. Allow me to join you.”

Without asking for permission, an attractive woman in a black turtleneck and slacks sat down at their table. Straight black hair and bangs matched the kohl accenting her eyes. A golden stud pierced her nose, while an exotic accent suggested that she was hardly native to these parts. A sly, somewhat icy smile told Stone at once that she was trouble.

Dunphy's eyes bugged out. He grinned as though he couldn't believe his luck. “Do I know you? Maybe from that pool party at Ali Baba's the other day?”

“Hardly,” she said. “I'm here to make you a business proposition.”

Stone had no doubt that this was the “looker with an attitude” who had come looking for Gus at the trailer park. What she wanted now was anybody's guess.

“What kind of proposition?” Stone asked.

She cast a disdainful glance in his direction. “I recommend you stay out of this, Mr. Stone. Believe me when I say I have no great love for Librarians.”

Stone sat up straight, going on full alert. The very existence of the Library was a deeply guarded secret. Only the most serious bad guys, like Delaque or Prospero, knew of them, let alone could identify them by name.

Forget local toughs like Rudy and his goons,
he realized.
We're playing in the big leagues now.

“Librarians?” Dunphy swung his gaze back and forth between Stone and the woman, understandably baffled. “You know each other?”

The woman shook her head. “Only by reputation.”

“That puts you one up on me, lady,” Stone said. “'Cause I don't have a clue who you are.”

“Call me Marjanah, and please don't think of doing anything rash, Mr. Stone.” She preemptively confiscated both men's forks and steak knives. “I assure you I'm not here alone.”

Looking away from her for a moment, Stone surveyed the interior of the steakhouse. A quick sweep of the place confirmed that Marjanah had muscle loitering near all the exits, watching the dealings at the table intently. Stone counted at least four men, all of them radiating menace if you looked hard enough. A telltale bulge under the nearest thug's jacket made it clear that he was armed with more than just a surly expression.

Crap.

Stone suddenly wished that he had held on to Rudy's pistol. Not that he was all that eager to trigger a gunfight in a crowded restaurant, full of innocent diners; as a rule, he preferred to rely on his fists—and brains—to get out of a tough scrape. Firearms were for fighting genuine monsters, not human beings, even though the former had an annoying tendency to be bulletproof.

“Hey, what's going on here?” Gus picked up on the rising tension at the table. “Am I missing something?”

“As I said,” Marjanah replied, “I have a business proposition.” She smirked coldly. “Your life … for the Lamp.”

Lamp?
Stone thought, confused.
What lamp?

This wasn't about the penny?

“Um, what lamp?” Dunphy nervously took a swig from his beer bottle, no longer delighted by their beautiful visitor's presence at the table. “I don't know anything about a lamp, although there's a nice home furnishings shop a few blocks from here, by the Greyhound station.”

Wow,
Stone thought.
He's an even worse liar than Cassandra.

“Don't try my patience, little man.” Marjanah scowled while toying with a commandeered steak knife. Contempt dripped from her voice. “You've had your fun with the Lamp, wasting it on petty diversions, but it's time to surrender it to those of us who truly appreciate its value. Enjoy your winnings and count yourself fortunate that there's no need for matters to get … messy.”

“Messy?” Gus swallowed hard, going pale beneath his spray tan. “What do you mean by messy?”

Instead of answering, she helped herself to his steak, slicing off a big piece of pink meat, cooked very rare. She took her time chewing the morsel, letting Dunphy sweat and Stone ponder his next move.

“Ah, nice and bloody,” she declared finally. “Just the way I like it.”

“Really?” Stone asked. “Looks to me like it needs pepper.”

She may have taken his cutlery, but Stone had palmed the pepper shaker while she was looking at Dunphy and furtively unscrewed the cap underneath the table. Before this could go too far, he threw the contents of the shaker into her face. She cried out furiously.

“No! Not again!”

Again?

Stone had no idea what she was referring to, but could live without an explanation. Tears streaming from her eyes, and sneezing uncontrollably, she slashed blindly at him with the knife, but he threw himself backward in time. Springing to his feet, he took hold of the tablecloth and yanked it off the table, spilling plates and food and drinks into her lap to keep her off her game.

“Kill him!” she shouted at her men. “Make him pay with his life!”

*   *   *

Baird's phone chimed, alerting her to an incoming call from Cassandra.

“Excuse me,” she told Krieger. “I need to take this.”

Stepping away from the booth in the bar, she answered the call. “Cassandra? What's the verdict?”

“It's not the penny,”
Cassandra blurted.
“It's something else.”

That was not what Baird had expected to hear. “Such as?”

“I have no idea, and neither does Jenkins. We investigated the penny every way we could think of, but it still tested negative for magic. We've been looking in the wrong direction.”

“Damn. Just when I thought this case was all but wrapped up,” Baird said. “Where are you now? Still at the Annex?”

“No, Jenkins sent me back to regroup with you and the others. I'm in the hotel lobby.”

“Great, I'll rendezvous with you there in a few minutes. Stone is kind of tied up right now, babysitting Dunphy, but see if you can get hold of Ezekiel. Tell him his play break is over. We need all hands on deck now, if we're starting from scratch again.”

“Got it,”
Cassandra said.
“See you soon.”

Baird returned to the booth, where Krieger was waiting. “Anything serious?” he asked.

“Nope,” she lied through her teeth. “But I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this short. It's been great seeing you again, but some of my colleagues from the library are expecting me.”

“Fair enough,” he said amiably, displaying only a reasonable amount of disappointment. “So how long are you in town anyway? Maybe we can get together again at some point?”

“Hard to say.” She sent him her contact info, phone to phone. “I'd like that, but we'll have to see.”

“Eve Baird working without a plan?” He made a show of disbelief. “Now I've seen everything. Are you sure you haven't been replaced by your double from a parallel universe?”

Probably only a matter of time,
she thought. “Negative. Just taking it easy, that's all.”

“Well, don't let me monopolize you then. Go meet up with your friends, and don't worry about the tab. I've got it.”

“Thanks. Next time's on me.”

As if the bar tab were the only thing she had to worry about.…

*   *   *

Pandemonium erupted in the steakhouse as startled customers and waiters, who had been gawking at the juicy scene before—while trying to capture it on their phones as though it were a particularly dramatic episode of
The Real Librarians of Las Vegas
—panicked upon realizing that Stone and Marjanah were having more than just a highly entertaining spat. Chairs toppled over and tables were abandoned. Frantic men and women shoved each other aside as they stampeded for the exits, obstructing Marjanah's men as they tried to converge on their targets, much to Dunphy's alarm and confusion.

“W-what's happening?” He stumbled away from the table, knocking over his chair. “Who are you people?”

Stone grabbed his arm. “Never mind that. We've got to get the hell out of here!”

“But—”

“Trust me, Gus. Your life depends on it!”

Dunphy hesitated for only a moment. Given a choice between a past rescuer and a snarly femme fatale who had just threatened to slice him up like a piece of undercooked meat, he nodded at Stone.

“Of all times to lose my lucky penny!” he moaned.

Eschewing the front door, Stone dragged Dunphy in the opposite direction as the fleeing staff and customers, heading toward the back of the restaurant instead. A member of Marjanah's crew, posted to block any rear exits, reached beneath his jacket for a weapon. Improvising, Stone seized an abandoned salad cart and propelled it at the thug with as much force as he could muster. The cart barreled into the bad guy, knocking him off his feet and into a table. Glassware crashed to the floor, along with a half-eaten meal for two.

“Don't forget your greens,” Stone quipped.

Gunfire blared as another henchman opened fire, despite the panicky exodus jostling him. Missing his target, he hit a framed photo of Liberace instead, cracking the glass. Wild shots put fresh bullet holes in the old brickwork.

Just like old times,
Stone thought.
The more things change …

“Forget me, you fool!” Marjanah shouted at a third man who had rushed to her aid. Groping for a pitcher of water at a table, she tossed it in her face to rinse out her streaming eyes. She sneezed violently as she yelled at her minions. “After them, but leave the gambler alive! We need him to tell us where he hid the Lamp!”

Stone really wished he knew more about this Lamp business.

“Keep behind me,” he hollered at Dunphy, for more reasons than one. He hadn't meant to use Gus as a human shield, but if it kept Marjanah's men from thinking twice about shooting at him.… “I can get us out of this, in theory.”

The guy who'd been hit by the salad cart stumbled back onto his feet. Splattered with salad fixings, he chased after them and grabbed Gus by his collar. “That's far enough,” he snarled, splitting out a stray spinach leaf. “When we get through with you two…”