"About what?"
"You must look into what happened while you're doing whatever else it is that you're doing. I'm particularly interested in knowing who those men were. I am confident that they were specifically committed to the extinction of Marengo North English and my survival is due only to an ironic twist of fate."
"I still feel like we're going sideways."
"I'll start from the beginning. Last night was a big night for The Call. We'd planned for months. We put it off several times because we thought we could make a bigger splash later. But now we were coming up on the dwarfish New Year. We had to move before all their rustic cousins came to town for the holidays."
North English composed his thoughts carefully before he continued. He was much more businesslike than he had been at Weider's.
"As you may suspect, like you, I have a taste for toothsome ladies. Not long ago I met someone new and intriguing. She seemed equally interested. Last night presented a perfect opportunity to pursue the possibilities. The Cleansing provided a reason to be away from The Pipes. And there was nothing I could contribute to actual operations short of getting out in the street throwing brickbats with the others."
I listened for hints of hypocrisy. I still had trouble picturing Marengo North English as a true believer.
Maybe the insincerity existed only in my imagination.
"So you had a date. Rough trade, too, looks like."
"I walked into an ambush. I couldn't have been much stupider. Ed warned me but I wouldn't listen. It's the way men get."
"Sometimes," I admitted, having been there.
"It's only sheer fool luck that I'm here now." He snuck a glance to see if I was conscious of the irony.
I eschewed any observation about fools and drunks. "Are you heading somewhere?"
"I am. Yes." Pause. Deep breath. "Eight of the most influential men in the movement were murdered last night. Somebody tried to kill Bondurant Altoona. Burned his house down. But he wasn't inside." Did I hear disappointment? "Ladora Ankeny was hurt worse than I was, poor woman. I was attacked, of course. Set up and attacked."
"Thought you and old Bondurant didn't get along."
"We don't. He's not well liked. We left him out of our plans. But he did hear somehow and left home—to get in the way, if I know the man at all—just before the fires started."
Maybe. "Were the attacks coordinated?"
"I believe they were."
"Why?" I meant why did he think that but that wasn't what he heard.
"The assassins were all human. I can't believe that there's that kind of opposition among our own people. There're only two kinds of humans." Eyes calculating, he paused to read my expression. "Those who're with us and those who're with us but haven't yet awakened."
You might be surprised, boss. "You know who got killed, right? Who they were could tell you why. What did they have in common?"
Evidently North English didn't want to face that question. He had an answer already that didn't please him.
"So?" I asked, noting that he was still trying to read me.
"Everyone attacked was involved in fund-raising. Or made decisions concerning raising funds. I think I might be the only one who could see that connection. So maybe that was why I was targeted."
Which offered us both an answer he didn't want to face—along with a reason why.
He'd slipped off to meet Belinda, jumping right into a honey trap. And now his ego hurt worse than his body because he feared he'd been set up from the beginning.
Belinda was her father's daughter, with extra weapons. She could blind men with their natural weakness. And she had no concept of mercy.
I said, "If you play on their ground, you obey their law. Only the strong survive. You mess with their money, they kill you. Unless you kill them. They don't think like kings and generals. Or like you. They don't send soldiers to attack your soldiers. They'll kill your men only if they get in the way. They want you. Once you're dead your soldiers are no longer a problem."
That seemed the obvious way to operate, too. I've never understood why, when we caught a big-time Venageti wizard or general or noble, we'd always ransom him. Or even just let him go if he promised not to fight anymore.
I wondered what Belinda would say about last night. Not that I'd ask. I try to separate business and friendship. If a friendship is what we have.
I told North English, "I've known these people a long time. I'm surprised they've been as tolerant as they have."
That startled Marengo. "Tolerant?"
"By their standards."
"It wasn't my intent to engage in criminal activities, Mr. Garrett. I'm the most visible Call leader but not the only one. Not even the supreme one. Other groups started raising money that way a long time ago. I opposed the plan when the Council proposed it. I reminded them that The Call wasn't founded as a criminal conspiracy. I reminded them that one of our missions is to set an example. We can't cut corners because our cause is just. If we do, we're no better than the Other Races. And it sets a precedent we'll pay for later."
The man was heated up for a speech. Maybe he was a true believer. I cut him off. "Looks to me like you've got a good counterargument now."
"Possibly. But I doubt it." He paused. I had nothing to say so that's what I said. He continued, "It's all out of control, Garrett. It's like riding a lion. The beast answers the reins if the mood takes it. And the gods help me if I try to get off." And again with the calculating look.
"What do you want from me? Looks like the Outfit sent a message. Emphatically. You were lucky. You survived it. They'll let you alone if it looks like it took. I say don't aggravate them. Chodo is way less friendly than Belinda."
"Did she set me up?"
"Probably." My guess was, Belinda just thought on her feet and improvised. "Maybe that was why she wanted to meet you."
His pride was bruised more deeply than his flesh. Marengo North English thought well of himself. What kind of world was it where a woman could use him as knife fodder? "You know Belinda. Talk to her."
Was he going to whine? "If you've checked me out, you know I know Chodo better than I know Belinda." Unless she'd developed a true-confession habit.
North English smiled enigmatically. Maybe he knew more than I thought he could. He winced, closed his eyes. His wounds still hurt badly.
79
"What actually happened last night?" I asked North English, after we took time for him to rest and take a painkiller.
"I'd arranged to meet Belinda at a rooming house on the far north side. She said the place belonged to her family."
"Remember the name of the street?"
"I don't. That was the driver's responsibility." When I frowned, he said, "I don't think it had one." He colored slightly.
"You went into an elven neighborhood?" Elves don't get excited about frills like street names or house numbers.
"Just the edge. Nobody would expect to find me there."
"No. But somebody did."
"Yes." North English proceeded to describe the attack on his coach, which occurred soon after it entered that street. It mimicked the attack on Belinda's coach.
Was that coincidence?
Quite possibly he'd had an earlier close call and didn't yet realize it. Belinda had asked him to meet her at The Palms. And CeeJay Carlyle had been with Belinda when she headed for her postparty rendezvous. Did Crask and Sadler mess everything up?
I asked, "Should I talk to your coachman?"
"If you know a good necromancer, you might. I'm the only survivor. They didn't get me dragged out of the coach fast enough."