“That’s not all. Medea Bava might be with them.”
“No way. She’s hiding out in Hell.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
This is all I need right now. Kill City, Medea Bava, and now I have to run a footrace to find the Qomrama.
“Thanks for the information.”
“You’re welcome. See? All your muscling people, your Sturm und Drang, got you nowhere.”
The waiter brings my whiskey and I drink it in one go.
“It got people off their asses and it got me answers, which is all I ever wanted. From where I sit, my plan worked fine. By the way, why are you helping me?”
Tykho pours another thick red shot into her glass.
“For the same reason we were grateful you took care of those pesky zombies. Self-preservation. If the stories about angry old gods are true, I doubt they’ll spare the Aeternus simply because we’ve been shunned by the madman in the attic.”
“So, you do believe in God.”
“Only when convenient.”
“Okay, then. Let’s put a team together, go in there, and get it.”
She wags a finger at me.
“No. We’re not going to do that.”
“A second ago you said you had a stake in this fight. Why won’t you step up when it really matters?”
“Who says we won’t help? The problem is this: the Dark Eternal can’t enter Kill City. There’s a long-standing but somewhat fragile détente with one of the federacies inside. A clan of gray fighters. Time has passed them by, but they’re still dangerous. To enter the mall would be a declaration of war, and a pointless war is something we don’t need right now.”
“I know the feeling.”
I order a whiskey for the road.
“So, how are you going to help me?”
“We’re sending a representative with you.”
“You just said the Dark Eternal can’t go inside.”
“He isn’t one of the Aeternus. He’s mortal.”
She looks past my shoulder to a flunky lurking somewhere in the dark.
She says, “Send over Paul.”
He comes from another table across the dance floor. He gives me a friendly smile and puts out his hand. I shake it. I’m not surprised by him one bit. Okay. Maybe a little, but it makes perfect sense when I get a good look.
“Stark, this is Paul Delon.”
It’s another Trevor. An exact copy of a young Norris Quay.
“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Stark. Tykho has told me a lot about you.”
“Paul, is it? How do you know Tykho?”
“We know some of the same people.”
I bet you do. But I don’t get the feeling that Paul knows me. Probably all of Quay’s automata are drones gathering information until their master calls them home. That’s good luck for me. It means he’s on his own until this is over.
“Have you ever been inside Kill City?” I say.
“No.”
“Ever been anywhere, you know, strange? Maybe incredibly dangerous?”
He sits down across the table from me.
“Is that what you expect?”
“From what I hear, Kill City is the last stop for the lowest of the low-life Sub Rosa families and Lurker clans that can’t make it out in the world. It’s a whole society of losers and they’re just looking to take it out on everybody else in the world.”
Paul nods. A waiter comes over.
“White wine, please,” he says. Then to me, “I’m up to speed on that. I’ve also memorized a map of the complex and their clan territories. I’ve never been anywhere like Kill City, but I’m not afraid.”
“You should be. If the thing the ghost is guarding is the 8 Ball, that makes Kill City the most dangerous place in L.A.”
Delon frowns. I can’t get a read on him. If he’s like the other windup clones at Rose’s studio, he’s a mix of meat and machine. He has a heartbeat that’s steady and mechanical. Same with his breathing. Rose’s Trevors bled, so I’m betting this Paul does too. Still, to fool a mob of blood freaks is a pretty neat trick. Atticus is worth whatever Quay is paying him.
I say, “Why don’t you just give me the map and you don’t have to go at all? The fewer people, the faster I can move.”
“No,” says Tykho. “Paul is our representative. He goes with you or you can go in alone. They don’t call it Kill City for nothing. You add up the acreage aboveground and what’s below, without a guide it will be like wandering the Amazon jungle blind.”
“She’s right,” says Paul. “You’ll never find what you’re looking for. That’s assuming the families and the Lurkers don’t kill you. I know what families are there. I’ve studied the Lurker federacies and how to pay them off for safe passage.”
“It’s the Wild West in there,” says Tykho. “You’ll love it. What do you say?”
Tykho might not breathe or have a beating heart, but her type I can read.
“I get it. The boy is our guide but he’s your man on the inside. You’re afraid I might run off with the 8 Ball and take over all of Never Never Land.”
Tykho leans her elbows on the table.
“Like you people say. Trust but verify.”
I turn to Paul.
“I’ll meet you at Bamboo House of Dolls at eight P.M. tomorrow. Don’t wear those stupid loafers. Go get yourself some heavy boots. Maybe some climbing gloves.”
For the first time he looks a little concerned.
“Thank you.”
I stand and nod to Tykho.
“Thanks. With any luck we’ll send Chuck here back with good news.”
“Paul,” he says. I ignore him.
“How many people know about the Kill City situation?”
Tykho shakes her head.
“Only a few among the Aeternus. Why?”
“If too many people know, it might leak back to Aelita and she’ll move the 8 Ball. Don’t mention this to anyone else.”
“Of course.”
I start to leave, when she says, “When are you reopening Max Overdrive?”
“There’s not much point reopening if the world is going to end. You better hope your boy knows his stuff or the Dark Eternal is going to be another bunch of suckers streaming whatever movies the corporate big boys want you to watch.”
Tykho looks up at Yul breaking windows and generally busting up the tinhorn town that hired him.
She says, “Save the world and we might find another suitcase of money so you can reopen.”
“Do that and it’s free rentals for as long as we’re around.”
“Done. Try not to die.”
I take one last sip of her good whiskey.
“By the way, do you know a guy named Declan Garrett?”
“He comes in sometimes. He’s always trying to sell the Crown Jewels or some such nonsense.”
“If he comes in tonight tell him I’m waiting for him at Bamboo House of Dolls. We have something to settle.”
“Is he selling you the Brooklyn Bridge?”
“Yeah, but I’m paying in pennies. Think he’ll mind?”
Someone starts this way, sees me, and heads in the other direction. I take off after him and, when I’m close enough, grab his shirt collar and pull him back.
“Mike. What are you doing here?”
Manimal Mike looks like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. He has a fluffy tortoiseshell kitten in a pet carrier.
Mike holds up the cat.
“Trying to earn a living. Someone’s kitten’s on the fritz. What, you think I only work for live people? That’s racist, man.”
“Calm down, Mike. I was just surprised to see you.”
“Me too.”
His heart is going a million beats a minute. The smell of fear sweat pours off him.
“Is there something you’re not telling me, Mike? Another reason you’re here?”
I let go of his shirt and he shrugs his shoulder back into place.
“Okay. Sure. You still haven’t come across with my soul. These guys. They’re my backup plan. I buy my way in, let one of them bite me, and I don’t die and I don’t go to Hell. And if I’m dead like them, I can still work.”
It actually makes sense, which is more than I expect from Mike.
“I understand. It’s smart to have a Plan B. Just don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. Don’t let any of these guys put the fangs to you.”