"There's a second, possibly related, case," Benicio said. "Dennis?"
Dennis explained. Eight days ago another Cabal employee's runaway teen had been attacked. Holden Wyngaard was the fourteen-year-old son of a shaman. Someone had followed him for several blocks at night, then jumped him in an alley. Before anything could happen, a young couple had wandered into the alley and Holden's attacker had slipped away. The Cabal was not investigating.
"Let me guess," I said. "Mr. Wyngaard is a level C employee."
"Level E," Reuben said. "Substance-abuse problems have caused his status to drop. He is currently on suspension, and therefore entitled only to the most basic health-care benefits."
"But you think the cases are connected?"
"We don't know," Benicio said. "If we had clear proof of a pattern, we'd conduct our own investigation. As it stands, it's a troubling coincidence: While the expense of a full-scale investigation isn't warranted, we'd like to be proactive and hire Lucas to look into the matter."
"Not me," Lucas said, his voice soft, but firm enough to carry through the room. "Paige."
"Of course, if Paige was interested in helping you-"
"I'm currently in the midst of defending a client, and couldn't possibly pursue this in the timely manner you'd require."
Benicio hesitated, then nodded. "Understandable. You have other obligations. I can't argue with that. If you'd like to set Paige on the case then, and supervise-"
"Paige doesn't require my supervision. You approached her with this case, hoping it might interest her because it concerns a witch. Whether she decides to take it is her choice."
Every pair of eyes turned to me. I felt the eager words of agreement leap to my throat. No one in this room gave a damn about Dana MacArthur. She needed someone on her side, and I longed to be that someone. Yet I locked my mouth shut and gave my brain time to override my heart.
One tragedy, and one near-tragedy, both involving the runaway kids of Cortez Cabal employees. Did I think they were related? No. The streets were a harsh and violent place for teens. That's a cold fact. I had to make an equally cold decision. I had to let someone else find justice for Dana. If I took this case, it would involve Lucas, if only by forcing him to act as middleman between the Cabal and me. I wouldn't do that to him. So I thanked everyone for coming out… and turned them down.
Time to Empty the Minibar
After the meeting, Benicio walked with us back to his office to get our overnight bags.
"I'd like you to take Troy tonight," Benicio said. "I'm concerned. If someone's targeting Cabal children-"
"I believe I'm a decade or so above fulfilling that requirement," Lucas said.
"But you're still my child. You know Troy; he'll be as unobtrusive as possible. I just… I want you to be safe."
Lucas lifted his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then glanced over at me.
I nodded.
"Let me take a guard from the security pool, then," Lucas said. "You should keep yours-"
"I'll still have Griffin," Benicio said, nodding at Troy's partner. "That will be enough tonight."
When Lucas finally agreed, Benicio slid in a few more "requests." He wanted to pick up the tab for our hotel, to compensate for bringing us here. Lucas refused. Benicio backed off, but followed with another demand. With the combination of this new threat and 9/11, he didn't want Lucas flying on a commercial airline. He'd make sure the corporate jet was fueled up to take us home. Again Lucas refused. Now Benicio dug in his heels, and kept them dug in until Lucas finally agreed to accept the hotel room, just to get us out of there.
By the time we escaped to the street, Lucas's forehead had gained ten years of stress-furrows. He stood beside the garden, closed his eyes, and inhaled.
"The sweet smell of freedom," I said.
He tried to smile, but his lips faltered and fell into a tired line. He squinted up and down the street, then headed east. Troy fell into position two paces behind. After a few yards, Lucas glanced over his shoulder.
"Troy? Please, walk beside us."
"Sorry," Troy said, striding up. "Habit."
"Yes, well, when a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound half-demon follows me, it's never a good thing. Fleeing for my life is usually involved."
Troy grinned. "You need a bodyguard."
"I need a saner life. Or faster feet. Right now, though, we need…"
"Wheels," I said. "Followed by stiff drinks."
"Uh, sir?"
Lucas winced.
"Lucas, I meant," Troy said. "The parking garage is beside the office. We needed to take the walkway across to get the car."
Lucas sighed. "Now you tell me."
"Hey, it's not my place to think. That's for you sorcerer guys. Me? I'm paid to keep my mouth shut, glare at strangers, and, on a good day, break a couple kneecaps."
"Cushy job," I said.
"It has its moments. The kneecap-breaking gets a little stale, though. I've tried tossing in the occasional jaw-busting and skull-smacking, but Mr. Cortez, he's a kneecap man."
Lucas shook his head and headed back toward the building.
At the hotel, Troy cased our room before allowing us inside. Seemed like overkill to me, but that was his job.
"All clear," he said, coming out. "There's a door between our rooms. Knock if you need me. If you go out to dinner…"
"We'll tell you," Lucas said.
"I'll keep out of the way, sit at a corner table, whatever."
"We'll probably have a quiet night, order room service."
"Hey, it's all paid for, so go for it." Troy caught Lucas's look. "Yeah, I know, you don't like using the old man's money, but you're his kid, right? If it was my dad…" He grinned. "Well, if it was my dad, I suppose he'd be offering me a lifetime supply of fire and brimstone, and personally, I'd prefer the cash, but that's just me. Seriously, though, take advantage of it. Clean out the minibar, rack up the room-service bill, steal the bathrobes. Worst thing that can happen, you'll piss off the old man and he won't talk to you for a year."
"Not the worst punishment I can imagine," Lucas murmured.
"Exactly. So live it up. And call me if you need help with the minibar."
I closed the door, cast a locking spell, and collapsed on the couch.
"I'm sorry," Lucas said. "I know that was difficult for you, turning them down."
"Let's just-let's not think about it. Not now. Maybe in the morning… Will we have time to stop by the hospital in the morning? See how she's doing?"
"We'll make time."
"Good. I can make sure she's okay, see if there's anything I can do from that angle and try to forget the rest. Now, let's help ourselves to that drink."
I started pushing to my feet, but Lucas waved me down.
"Stay there. I'll get it."
He glanced at the minibar, then at the door.
"The minibar's closer," I said. "And if you go out for booze, you'll have to take Troy. Your father brought us running down here, the least he can do is pay for our hotel and a drink."
"You're right. First, the drink. Then dinner. We'll order in-" He stopped and shook his head. "No, we're going out. Someplace nice. Followed by a show or a walk on the beach or whatever you want. My treat."
"You don't have to-"
"I want to. And, though I neglected to mention it earlier, I have money. Well, some money. I received payment on a legal matter, and I am, for the first time in months, reasonably flush."
"Is this for the case you're working now? With the shaman?"
"No, this is from a few years ago, a client whose financial situation has improved and who wanted to repay me. As for the current case, there is the possibility of a payment. A barter, so to speak. He has-" Lucas paused, then shook his head. "A matter we can discuss later, if and when it comes to fruition. For now, I have enough money to treat you to a proper evening out, and pay the rent for the next few months. Let me mix that drink, then I'll tell Troy we'll be leaving for dinner within the hour."