“I think,” Streak said, “that those guys were playing one of a very different kind. The kind where there’s guaranteed to be tears before bedtime.”
25
They decided not to move elsewhere in the city. Though their whereabouts were obviously known, it would be easy enough to trace them if they moved. Michael also pointed out that Claudio was someone they could trust, and he could alert them if strangers came snooping or asking about them. Serrin decided to conduct some rituals to protect them against magical assault. They didn’t know who’d attacked them that morning, but the Jesuit fundamentalists were the most obvious possibility and their mages would hardly be weaklings.
“Now we’ve got to make an active move. Do something to show our man we’re playing his game,” Michael said.
“Like what?” Streak asked. “This is your kind of thing, Michael matey. I just shoot people.”
“Speaking of shooting people” Geraint said with a wince, “when do Juan and Xavier get here?”
“Any time now,” Streak said. “I was right, eh? We’re going to need ‘em.”
“Looks like it.”
Before Michael could return to his deliberations, there was a knock on the door. Streak had his Predator in his hand at once, but Michael waved him away.
“For God’s sake, no assassin is going to knock, Streak.”
“Don’t you sodding believe it,” the elf said, but sat down and reluctantly picked up a magazine and kept the gun leveled behind it as he pretended to be reading. To his disgust, the magazine seemed to be full of lavish illustrations of Italian gardens. Streak had many interests, but gardening was definitely not one of them. If the magazine didn’t have guns, military hardware, or members of the opposite gender in states of undress, he was definitely not interested.
Lucrezia popped her head around the door, her mane of flaming curls as prodigious as ever.
“I come to see about your costumes, Mister Michael,” she said. “And there is a card for you.”
“Thank you very much,” Michael said. He took the card, read it, and his eyes widened. He passed it to Geraint without comment.
“I take the lady separately from you gentlemen?” the woman asked, clearly a little puzzled to find them all crammed together in the same room.
“Perhaps you can measure me and my wife,” Serrin suggested, seeing that Michael obviously wanted to discuss whatever was on the card. The two of them left with Lucrezia for their own bedroom.
“Please be in the square at midnight, when a most interesting event will take place,” Michael read aloud for Streak’s benefit.
“Signed by one ‘Salai’,” Geraint said, looking over his friend’s shoulder.
“Very neat. He was the closest to what might be called an apprentice of Leonardo’s. Traveled with him for many years. As I recall, he was something of an asshole. According to the history books, that is.”
“That seems about right,” Geraint said with feeling. “So this is when he makes another move. The question is what we do until then,” Michael said.
“Whatever it is. it’s got to communicate with our target,” Geraint said.
“That means something public.”
“Post a message on the BBS?”
“That would be logical. I suppose. What do we say?”
“ ‘Mona Lisa wishes to meet Leonardo’?” Streak suggested. “Thats the kind of thing I usually browse.”
“I’m sure it is,” Michael said disapprovingly, “but I hardly think-”
“Maybe it’s not so totally off the wall,” Geraint said. “I mean, it probably should be something like that. It’s got to be jokey, I think. That damnable farce out in the square was supposed to be some kind of entertainment.”
They started to throw ideas around without really getting anywhere, and it was almost a relief when Lucrezia arrived with her catalogue and measuring tape. She dealt with the elf last.
“Watch that inside leg, Signora,” Streak said slyly. “I’m a red-blooded elf in my prime.”
Grinning, not taking offense, she slapped him playfully in the ear. The elf reeled back, a shrill singing tone ringing inside his head.
“Frag me, missus, I wouldn’t want to argue with you for real!” he complained and became as meek as a lamb, politely accepting the costume she suggested for him.
When Lucrezia left, Geraint and Michael burst into the laughter they’d been choking back after the elf’s chastisement.
“Serves you right. I warned you,” Michael sniggered.
“Rakk it, what a right hook,” Streak said as Serrin and Kristen rejoined them.
“Everything gets delivered after lunch,” Serrin said. “What happened to you?” He peered at the elf’s deep red ear.
“Nothing,” Streak mumbled.
“Our Lucrezia disciplined him for being a cheeky bugger,” Michael told Serrin with a smirk. “He’s going to be awfully well behaved for a while.”
“Right.” Serrin grinned. “Now what about business?” They told him what they’d been discussing, then picked up the thread where they’d left off.
“It needs to be something more pointed,” Serrin said. “Oh, by the way, here’s that thing we saw in the square.” He opened the book at the appropriate page and showed them the design for the military machine, which did indeed look extraordinarily like a primitive First World War tank.
“I wonder if we might not try something like asking Salai to attend a supper,” Serrin said. “And maybe call it ‘Mary’s supper’ ”
“You’re thinking of the painting in the square,” Michael said.
“Yes. I’m convinced that the Magdalene is actually the subject of that picture. It’s so obvious when you really look at it.”
“It’s certainly not what it appears to be,” Michael agreed.
“And if we included a line from that apocalyptic essay by Leonardo, the one about the floods, for good measure, we’d show that we understood more now than maybe our man thinks we do.”
“It’s worth a try” Geraint offered.
“We need to post it on as many BBSes as we can and leave a drop,” Michael said. “We can’t know if he’ll be monitoring, but-”
“Surely he must be. If what he does for fun is wipe his traces clean from the Doge’s system, routine BBS scanning ought to be pretty simple,” Geraint said.
Michael sat down with his deck. “Okay. Consider it done. I’ll leave Smithers to plant it.”
“Smithers? Who the frag is Smithers?” Streak demanded.
“One of his frames,” Geraint told him. “This one does the routine clerk stuff so he calls it Smithers.”
“Don’t ask about Tracey,” Serrin said.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Streak replied. “What a weird bloke he is.”
“I won’t take that to heart,” Michael said cheerfully. “Better than being boring, eh?”
It took less than a minute to post the message they finally composed, make the nominal payment transfer, and arrange the email drop. Now all they could do was sit back and wait.
“Now what?” Streak was becoming restless, agitated because he was still feeling the adrenaline rush that shooting people always gave him.
“Apart from this I’m not sure that’s much else we can do. We know something’s going to happen in the square tonight, so-”
Michael’s words were interrupted by a signal from his deck that Smithers had observed and located a reply to his posting. Eagerly, he downloaded it.
“Slot, that was fast,” he said. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” They all crowded around.
“ ‘Your understanding is superior to what we had expected. We look forward very much to further developments. Yours respectfully, Salin.’ Hmm.”
“Respect, indeed,” Geraint growled.
“Don’t be touchy,” Michael said. “look, he’s pleased with us.”
Are you a toy poodle or something?”
“It seems to imply that we’re being invited to get closer to him. ‘Further developments’.”