John roused himself, reluctantly abandoning the corner. If he could find the shotgun he"d lost, he could help Bear.
He found it, all right. It was lying in the hall, in a pool of ( aria"s blood. He couldn"t bring himself to touch it.
Downstairs he could hear more gunfire: Bear"s shotgun, the black-clad men"s coughing weapons, and a sharper crack that had to be the stranger"s small pistol. He heard the stranger shout orders to something called "Bravo Team." More firing. A flash of light lit up the walls of the landing and acrid smoke was soon drifting up the stairs. There was one last blast from Bear"s shotgun, and everything was quiet.
John crept to the top of the stairs. Still quiet. The front door was open to the street, half off its hinges, its restraining bar lying shattered on the floor. There were no sirens, no shouts of alarm. This was the sprawl; there wouldn"t be any police to investigate until well after everything was resolved, if even then. The neighbors knew enough to keep their heads down and stay out of trouble.
Two men entered the front room from the common room. Bear had his shotgun sloped over his shoulder. The other man wore a long coat, but he now had his shades off and his hood pulled back. He was a sandy-haired guy who would have looked more at home behind a desk than helping Bear check on the body lying sprawled at the base of the stairs.
"Who are you, friend?" Bear was saying.
"Name"s Holger Kun. I"m pleased to meet you, sir."
"I"m pleased to be around to be met. Lot of people seem to want to make my acquaintance today, but not all of them are as polite as you, Mr. Kun." Bear kicked the body. "These folks, for example. You wouldn"t happen to know who they are, would you?"
"I"ve got an idea."
"Then you"re ahead of me. Maybe you"re far enough ahead to know if there might be more of them around? Or can we leave them for your Bravo Team to take care of?"
"Bravo Team"s a fiction, sir. Did its job, though. Made them think there were more of us and bought us some breathing room."
"You think they"ll be back?"
"They didn"t get what they wanted," John said, coming down the stairs. "They said they wanted the sleeper."
Bear looked up at him and gave him a nod. "Jack, glad to see you"re all right. Where"s Trashcan Harry?"
"Here," came a voice from the kitchen. He came through the doorway, half carrying a semiconscious Hector. "They"re gone."
"But Reddy"s right," Kun said. "You"re still here, sir. They"ll be back."
"You think they wanted to capture me?" Bear snorted. "Weren"t enough of them for that."
"Capture you. Or kill you," Kun said. "They might have been satisfied with either."
"What did I do to them? I don"t even know who they are." Bear tugged the hood off the corpse. "I"ve never seen any of them before."
"I have," John said, staring at the face so revealed. It was Surimato, the supposed federal agent. Everyone turned to look at him, but John faced Bear. "I met him before ... before the night in the museum. He said he was FBI. Showed me a picture of the sorceress who woke you."
"He"s not FBI," Kun said. If the mention of a sorceress was odd to him, he gave no sign. "This man"s name is Vadama. He was a special agent for Mitsutomo Keiretsu."
John wasn"t sure that he had heard correctly. "Mitsutomo?"
Kun nodded. "Not a public branch, mind you."
"Still want to go home, Jack?" Bear asked.
"It must be a mistake," John protested.
"No mistake," Trashcan said.
"How would you know?" John snapped. "This must be some kind of fraud. Somebody is trying to make Mitsutomo look like the villains."
"It wouldn"t be hard," Trashcan said. "Don"t matter if you don"t believe, Jack. We got to get out of here."
"Jack?"
John looked up into Bear"s questioning face. Some squire. I le hadn"t done anything but cower during the fight. Did Bear think he was a coward? "I won"t run out on you."
"Good lad."
"This is crazy, Jack," Trashcan Harry said.
Bear looked at Trashcan disdainfully. "Where do you think you"re going to go?"
"Anywhere, long as it ain"t here. They know we"re here."
"Running blind won"t help," Kun said.
"I don"t like the idea of running away," Bear said.
"You don"t have to," Trashcan Harry told him. "It"s Jack they want."
"Reddy said they wanted the sleeper," Kun said.
"They shot at all of us. They"ll kill us all if we stay here," Trashcan said.
"They didn"t do so well this time," Bear said.
"They killed Carla." John was surprised that his voice was so calm.
"And Gillie," Trashcan added. "And Shanta. And Tara, she was with Gillie. They nearly killed Hector."
Tara wasn"t even a member of the Dons.
"We know about them now." Bear sounded determined. His face took on the expression John was used to seeing when he was putting together a plan. "We"ll just have to be ready for them next time."
"You can"t fight a corporation like Mitsutomo without help," Kun said.
"I know." Bear nodded heavily, as though he"d reached an unpalatable conclusion. His expression soured. "I had hoped that the world had changed enough to do without it."
John thought he knew what Bear was talking about, but he had to ask. "Without what?"
"Caliburn. I could use it, if I could get my hands on it."
Kun looked surprised and puzzled, but Trashcan Harry just looked nervous. John felt a little sick to his stomach; Bennett had said Bear would go after the sword. What if Bennett was right about other things as well?
"What"s a caliburn?" Kun asked.
"Something that used to belong to me," Bear said. "Something powerful."
"It"ll have to be very powerful to help you stand up to Mitsutomo," Kun said.
"It"s powerful, all right. And if it"s not strong enough, I"ll go down fighting." Bear shrugged. "It won"t be the first time."
"I"ll bet you don"t even know where it is," Trashcan Harry said.
The sort of probe Bennett would want.
Bear nodded. "Of course I do. It lay by my side for a thousand years."
"Was it one of the swords at the museum?" John asked. If it was, Mitsutomo already controlled it. Did they know they had it?
"No."
"Then it"s still in England." Going to England would get them away from here, and Mitsutomo didn"t have as much influence there as they did here in the States. They might be safe there. Maybe having Bear go after the sword wouldn"t be so bad after all.
"No."
"Then where?"
Bear gave each of them an evaluating look, as if he wasn"t sure he could trust them. John felt hurt, then a little guilty. I ladn"t he been keeping things from Bear? Didn"t Bear have a right to his own secrets?
"It"s hard to explain," Bear said. "I may not be able to get to it, but I think I"ve got to try."
May not? Try? Very tentative words, despite Bear"s confident tone. John was confused. So what else was new?
"I"d like to offer my help," Kun said.
*"Why?" Bear asked.
John wondered the same thing himself. Was this Kun another of Bennett"s agents? If he wasn"t, who was he? Should John tell Bennett about this guy, or could he rely on Trashcan Harry to take care of that?
"We"re on the same side, sir." Kim sounded sincere. "I work with other people who have backgrounds similar to yours, people who would be very pleased to have you by their sides. We understand your special circ.u.mstances."
"You seem to know a lot more about me than I do about you."
"If you will come with me and talk to my a.s.sociates, that will change. You can do much better than this for yourself."
"I like it here," Bear said. That seemed to surprise Kun. "Besides, I"ve got people here to take care of."
Kun recovered quickly. "Considering what happened tonight, I think you might want to consider what will happen to the people around here if you remain visible, a magnet for further violence."
"Maybe we should listen to him, Bear," John said.
"I can offer you a place to lie low for a while," Kun said.
Bear looked unhappy. "Sounds like running away."
Which, John thought, was a good idea. He tried to put it in a way Bear would accept. "Consider it a strategic withdrawal, a chance to rally for another battle." At the very least it would buy them some time. John had a lot to sort out.
Bear nodded slowly. "I do need some time to think."
Turning to Kun, he asked, "Where did you say your a.s.sociates were?"
CHAPTER.
I5.
I he place Holger took them to looked like an ordinary town-house in an ordinary development, but that was the way it was supposed to be. Safe houses were not supposed to look out of the ordinary.
The neighborhood was one of those oases of suburbia contained within the desert of the Northeast sprawl, an island of fin-de-siecle living sitting in the waters of concrete blight. I lore rising stars of the corporate world lived side by side with solid middle managers and long-term government employees. Children played in streets made safe by regular patrols of community-approved rent-a-cops. Homeowners tended lawns and gardens. Pet owners exercised their animals. Joggers jogged, runners ran, and walkers walked. A pleasant neighborhood, safe and quiet, a perfect place to hide the unusual.
Headquarters had chosen well.
The safe house was better protected than most of the neighboring townhouses, with security and alarm systems an order of magnitude more effective, but true safety relied on anonymity. So he decided to unload his vehicle within the walls of the garage, unlocking the pa.s.senger doors only after the door had rolled down to shield them from the outside world.
Holger watched them as they stretched muscles cramped after the confinement of the GM Runner. Just looking at them made him wonder if headquarters wasn"t right to treat this whole operation like a b.a.s.t.a.r.d stepchild.
What a crew.
Harry Black, the man whose trail had enabled Holger to find the sleeper, was a smelly old guy who looked as if he"d lost a few too many bar fights. Reddy called him Trashcan Harry, a good name since the old guy smelled like one and had manners to match. Holger doubted the cleaning crew would ever get the smell out of the upholstery. Holger would have rather left Mm behind, but the kid seemed to a.s.sume that Black was part of the deal There hadn"t been a lot of time to argue, so Holger hadn"t argued, planning on cutting Black out here; the prole had too many unanswered questions hanging around him to be trusted.
The guy who was supposed to be the sleeper was a hulking brute of a fellow who fit the name Bear. The man"s eyes were always moving, watching Holger suspiciously while simultaneously scoping out his surroundings. He had wary eyes, a warrior"s eyes. It was the only thing about Mm that made him credible. Still, Holger found it hard to believe that this leather-wearing gang boss could be King Arthur.
Then there was Reddy, a gangly college kid who looked out of place in his gang colors the way an English tea iady would at a gathering of an Angolan insurgent cell. But Holger knew there was more to him than that; he had read the psychological "reports, including the ones someone at Mitsutomo who didn"t know enough about computer files had wanted to suppress. Still, Reddy didn"t look to be the sort p.r.o.ne to violent outbursts, and in that he was a lot like Holger. The kid might have potential, but just now he was playing out of Ms depth.
Holger led them inside, taking them upstairs to the kitchen and offering them refreshment. He"d noticed Spae wasn"t in the living room; she"d be upstairs, either busy with her re-searches or on the line berating headquarters again. He surrept.i.tiously tapped her intercom call b.u.t.ton while he was pouring Bear a beer.
"Nice place," Black said, slurping his own beer. "Who pays the rent?"
"Would you believe me if I said the UN?"
Bear turned to Reddy, who whispered "United Nations" to him while Black said, "I don"t believe it."
"How about the European Community?" Holger asked, skipping his usual abbreviation for Bear"s benefit. "The Secret Service, to be exact."
"I Smew you was a spook," Black said.
"European Secret Service?" Reddy said in a puzzled tone. "What are you doing in the States?"
"And what do we want with you? That was your next question, wasn"t it? You can relax, Reddy. As far as I know, you and Black are only coincidentally involved in this. We"re really interested in Bear here, because he"s what you heard the Mitsutomo people call a sleeper." Bear glared suspiciously at Holger, a look Holger found politic to ignore. Procedure required that an alleged sleeper be treated deferentially at all times. "Bear appears to have something to do with a rather famous sleeper. He may even be the man himself. Either way, we"re very interested in him."