Charlie picked up the chrome-plated pistol. It weighed like five pounds and the barrel looked big enough to stick your thumb in.
“This thing is huge.”
“I’m a big guy. Listen, it holds eight shots. There’s a round in the chamber. You have to cock it and release the safety before you fire. There and there.” He pointed to the safety and the hammer. “Hold on to it if you have to shoot. It will knock you on your ass if you’re not ready.”
“What about you?”
Minty patted the other side of his coat. “I have another one.”
Charlie turned the gun in his hand and watched the streetlights playing off its chromed surface. (Beta Males, who inherently feel they are always at a competitive disadvantage, are suckers for showy equalizers.) “You have a lot going on under the surface, Mr. Fresh. You are not just the run-of-the-mill seven-foot-tall Death Merchant in a pastel-green suit.”
“Thank you, Mr. Asher. Very kind of you to say.”
“My pleasure.”
Charlie’s cell phone rang and he flipped it open.
Rivera said, “Asher, where the hell are you? I’ve been circling the Mission and there’s nothing here but a lot of black feathers flying in the air.”
“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m okay, Inspector. I found Minty Fresh, the guy who owns the music store. I’m in the car with him.”
“So you’re safe?”
“Relatively.”
“Good. Lay low and I’ll call you, okay? I want to talk to your friend tomorrow.”
“You got it, Inspector. Thanks for coming to help.”
“Careful, Asher.”
“Gotcha. I’m laying low. Bye.”
Charlie snapped the phone shut and turned to Minty Fresh. “You ready?”
“Absolutely,” said the fresh one.
The street was deserted when they pulled up in front of the Three Jewels Buddhist Center.
“I’ll go around to the back,” Minty said.
Well, cars suck, I can tell you that,” said Babd, trying to keep herself together as the Morrigan limped back to the great ship. “Five thousand years, horses are fine, all of a sudden we have to have paved streets and cars. I don’t see the attraction.”
“I’m not even sure that we need to rise and let Darkness rule,” said Nemain. “Apparently darkness isn’t qualified yet. Speaking as an agent of Darkness, I think it needs more time.” She had been crushed into a half-woman, half-raven form and was shedding feathers as they limped through the pipe.
“It’s like that New Meat has someone watching over him,” said Macha. “Next time Orcus can deal with him.”
“Yeah, let’s get Orcus to go after him,” Babd said. “See what he thinks of cars.”
24
AUDREY AND THE SQUIRREL PEOPLE
Charlie could hear things scurrying under the porch as he walked to the front door of the Buddhist center, but the weight of the enormous pistol he’d stuck down the back of his belt reassured him, even if it was pulling his pants down a little. The front door was nearly twelve feet tall, red, with reeded glass running the length, and there were arrays of colorful Tibetan prayer wheels, like spools, on either side of the door. Charlie knew what they were because he’d once had a thief try to sell him some hot ones stolen from a temple.
Charlie knew he should kick down the door, but then, it was a really big door, and although he had watched a lot of cop shows and movies where door kicking had been done, he was inexperienced himself. Another option was to pull his pistol and blast the lock off the door, but he didn’t know any more about lock blasting than he did door kicking, so he decided to ring the doorbell.
The scurrying noises increased and he could hear heavier footsteps inside. The door swung open and the pretty brunette he knew as Elizabeth Sarkoff—Esther Johnson’s fake niece—stood in the doorway.
“Why, Mr. Asher, what a pleasant surprise.”
It won’t be for long, sister, said his inner tough guy. “Mrs. Sarkoff, nice to see you. What are you doing here?”
“I’m the receptionist. Come in, come in.”
Charlie stepped into the foyer, which opened up to a staircase and had sliding double doors on either side. He could see that straight back the foyer led to a dining room with a long table, and beyond that a kitchen. The house had been restored nicely, and didn’t really have the appearance of a public building.
The inner tough guy said, Don’t try to run your game on me, floozy. I’ve never hit a dame before, but if I don’t get some straight talk quick, I’m willing to give it a try, see. Charlie said, “I had no idea you were a Buddhist. That’s fascinating. How’s your Aunt Esther, by the way?” He had her now, didn’t even have to slap her around.
“Still dead. Thanks for asking, though. What can I do for you, Mr. Asher?”
The sliding door to the left of them opened an inch and someone, a young man’s voice, said, “Master, we need you.”
“I’ll be right there,” said the alleged Mrs. Sarkoff.
“Master?” Charlie raised an eyebrow.
“We hold receptionists in very high regard in the Buddhist tradition.” She grinned, really big and goofy, like she didn’t even believe it herself. Charlie was totally charmed by the laughter and open surrender in her eyes. Trust there, with no reason for it.
“Good God, you’re a bad liar,” he said.
“Guess you could see right through my moo-poo, huh?” Big grin.
“So, you are?” Charlie offered his hand to shake.
“I am the Venerable Amitabha Audrey Rinpoche.” She bowed. “Or just Audrey, if you’re in a hurry.” She took two of Charlie’s fingers and shook them.
“Charlie Asher,” Charlie said. “So you’re not really Mrs. Johnson’s niece.”
“And you’re not really a used-clothing dealer?”
“Well, actually—”
That’s all Charlie got out. There was a crashing sound from straight ahead, glass and splintering wood. Then he saw the table go over in the next room and Minty Fresh screamed “Freeze!” as he leapt over the fallen table and headed toward them, gun in hand, oblivious, evidently, to the fact that he was seven feet tall and that the doorway, built in 1908, was only six feet eight inches high.
“Stop,” Charlie shouted, about a half second too late, as Minty Fresh drove four inches of forehead into some very nicely finished oak trim above the door with a thud that shook the whole house. His feet continued on, his body swinging after, and at one point he was parallel to the floor, about six feet off the ground, when gravity decided to manifest itself.
The chrome Desert Eagle clattered all the way through the foyer and hit the front door. Minty Fresh landed flat and quite unconscious on the floor between Charlie and Audrey.
“And this is my friend Minty Fresh,” Charlie said. “He doesn’t do this a lot.”
“Boy, you don’t see that every day,” said Audrey, looking down at the sleeping giant.
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “I don’t know where he found raw silk in moss green.”
“That’s not linen?” Audrey asked.
“No, it’s silk.”
“Hmm, it’s so wrinkled, I thought it must be linen, or a blend.”
“Well, I think maybe all the activity—”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Audrey nodded, then looked at Charlie. “So—”
“Mr. Asher.” A woman’s voice to his right. The doors on Charlie’s right slid open, and an older woman stood there: Irena Posokovanovich. The last time he’d seen her he was sitting in the back of Rivera’s cruiser, in handcuffs.