Banshee Hunt (18 page)

The real question for him was what could the seven tell them about the Asian woman? He suspected it wouldn't be much. These were pawns not players. Controlled, not in control. They weren't part of the planning.

“You know Natasha Orin's close to cracking completely.” Will mentioned it casually, but for a reason.

“Cracking wide open and disintegrating. You read the reports.” If it came to that point James knew how to break her, but there were things even he didn't want to do. She was still likely to fall completely apart. The death of her beloved Fenris had left her dangerously damaged. If he added guilt to that, reminding her that it was her fault her wolf was dead, James didn't think she would survive.

“Besides, she's not a suspect. She's a victim.” It had taken him time to come to accept that. But after watching her interviews day after day and reading the reports, he knew it was true. That was the trouble with living in a world filled with magic and fascinators. The people who did horrible things often weren't guilty of any crime at all.

“This has to be a game of patience.” He thought for a bit. “But I do think it's time we put the priest back under the spotlight.”

“You're back to thinking he's involved again?”

“Not directly. I think the church has been set up as a front and Father Matthias has been manipulated. But the hand used on him has been lighter than on the others. I doubt he has any knowledge of the plan, but he may still provide us with some leads. For a start there was something a little off with the church's finances. A little too much money. And his attitude to the Illuminati was off.”

“He's not anti you guys, but he's still very suspicious. Why? He actually has no axe to grind. The Illuminati doesn’t interfere with churches. And except in the most minor of ways they don't bother the gifted either. Not unless something’s gone very wrong. All the flock have to do is go down to their local hall and fill out some forms. Some of them could do very well out of it. The priest should know that. So what's his problem?”

“You guys? They?” Will stared at him, his eyebrows raised. “You're Illuminati too, or had you forgotten?”

“Slip of the tongue. I hadn't forgotten.” And he never would. He took their job and their money. His daughter went to their school. And he wore their mark. But he still didn't feel like one of them. Maybe that was because he hadn't joined them voluntarily. He'd been desperate. They'd kept him out of jail. Dealt with his brother. Found an academy for Matti and arranged some care for his ex-wife. Things could have gone very badly but for them. But maybe he just wasn't as grateful as they might have expected him to be.

“See that you don't. That's not the sort of thing that goes over well with the elders, and I think they're going to want to have a chat with you at some point about this mess. Especially if we don't get some answers soon. You're one of the best hunters we have – but you also bring them a few headaches.”

“I hear you.” And he did. He wasn't sure if it was a warning, advice or an admonishment, but he heard him. He also still had the threat of a partner hanging over his head. So far nothing had happened. Probably because everything had turned to shit immediately after he'd left the German's office. But James was sure it was still coming – though he was careful not to mention it. Why remind them?

“Have we heard anything from overseas?” James changed the subject.

“Yes, actually though not much. It turns out the banshee gift is a familial one. We checked into known banshee families and found that a branch of the family in Ireland moved to Hong Kong a century or so ago. They run a casino. There's limited details but we're expecting a report from them later today.”

A family gift. That fitted with what James had expected. Maybe it had only been an educated guess on his part, but usually when a gift was familial it got a name. One that became legend. So the succubi and incubi were in the myths and legends. So too were ghouls and skin walkers. In reality none of them were what the myths claimed they were. But simply the fact that there had been enough of them over the centuries with similar abilities to create a mythology about them made it likely that they were a family. Others, like fascinators, elementalists and mentalists just got lumped together under generic terms like witches and wizards. Their gifts did not pass down through the generations in the same way, and so their legend was not recorded.

And then there was the other matter.

“A casino in Hong Kong. This could be organised crime branching out,” James mused. “And organised crime with a banshee family controlling it and a bunch of gifted as their enforcers would be a dangerous thing. They might want to spike the local hunter.”

“Could be.”

“We might want to see if anyone's made noises about any new casino licences in the state.” After all James figured, people usually stuck to what they knew. Especially when it came to crime. Bank robbers kept robbing banks. Fraudsters kept conning people. Presumably those who ran illegal gambling operations did the same. And now that they had been legalised a casino here could do very well. After all, if there was one thing New York had plenty of it was money.

But casinos were often more than just money making ventures. They were also very good at laundering it. This could be the start of a major organised crime venture moving into the state. James could see the bosses of that family wanting very much to get rid of the local hunters wherever they decided to set up shop. And why he wondered would there only be limited information on them? He could pull up the records on every registered wizard or witch in North America simply by going to his computer. What was different in Hong Kong?

“She's doing a good job.” Will nodded at the screen and Yasmin. She'd pulled the comb out of her hair and let the elegant bun on top of her head collapse so that cascades of long, glossy black curls were flowing down her body. By the looks of things Sza was completely captivated by the sight.

“Actually yes. I don't think he's going to crack today but Sza's definitely distracted. She's doing a damned good job. Tomorrow or the day after we should get some answers.” James had to give Yasmin her due. She might have put up a fight but she was still doing well no matter how much she hated it.

“Oh you poor, poor man!” Will suddenly turned to face him, laughter in his eyes. “You think she's doing that for Sza's benefit? She's playing for the cameras.” He started chuckling. “Just what sort of a detective are you?”

“What? Crap!” Actually James hadn't even considered the possibility and it was all he could do to not turn red as he realised what Will was suggesting. “As long as she gets results.”

“And just what sort of results would those be?”

“The suspect’s lips loosening.”

“Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that.” Will clapped him on the shoulder before abruptly getting up. He was still laughing as he did so. In fact he kept laughing as he walked out of the room and down through the office. Which finally left James sitting there with only the technician, and he also looked as though he wanted to say something. Or burst into laughter.

“Back to work you!” James pointed at his computer screen before the man could open his mouth. He might be a cold bastard as everyone claimed, but even he had to maintain some dignity.

This was not right. The German had said to work on his relationships with the others. To treat them more as colleagues and less as simply people he occasionally ordered around. And he'd tried. He'd really tried. He would do anything not to get lumbered with a partner. But maybe he'd tried too hard. Maybe he just wasn't any good at this interpersonal crap. And most especially he wasn't very good at working out what was going on with Yasmin.

But one thing he was good at was interrogation, and at knowing when someone was about to crack. Sza was right on the edge. Yasmin was getting through to him. Every time she touched on his killing the giant he could see the detonator's self-control cracking. He wouldn't last for many more sessions. James wanted to be there when that happened. He wanted to see what came pouring out. No matter how awkward it was sitting there watching and knowing that Will was right.

It was a strange thing to watch the interrogation. Distracting. To know that she was doing that for him. But on the other hand there was something very flattering in it too and he was glad there were no cameras in this room. Even if she was just teasing him for her own amusement. Because the devil of it was that she was succeeding.

Chapter Twelve

The New York State legislature. It was pretty enough so far as buildings went he supposed. In fact it had always reminded him a little of some European castle or château. But it was just as pretty looking at it on a postcard. James didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be on the huge concourse outside it. He didn't want to be walking up the steps to the entrance. And he especially didn't want to be meeting with politicians. But it had to be done. Because it was here, either with the Senate or the Assembly, that laws were made and changed. Here that the legalisation allowing for the licensing of new casinos had been set down. And it was here the banshee they assumed had been, seeing that the appropriate changes were made. So James had to be here.

Yasmin on the other hand wanted to be here. She was beside herself with happiness at the chance to walk the corridors of power. She'd volunteered for the assignment even before there had been one. In fact she'd dreamed it up. And then she'd spent the morning deciding on what to wear. There had been at least five dress changes as she turned their office into a walkway. Jewellery had come and gone. Her hair had gone through at least half a dozen different styles. He didn't understand that. What was so wonderful about this place that she would want to be here? That anyone would want to be here for that matter. It struck him as one of the most undesirable places on Earth to be. It certainly wasn't a place where he'd want to be wearing his Sunday best. A bullet proof vest maybe.

As far as he was concerned this place was a nest of criminals and low life's as vile as any gang house he'd ever busted. The others claimed he was too cynical. That he didn't trust people. Maybe they were right. But if he didn't trust people in general he viewed politicians as a whole new level of low in untrustworthiness. In fact his strongly held opinion was that anyone who wanted to become one should be immediately banned for life from the position. He was an anarchist at heart.

But she was right. When the information had finally come back from Hong Kong they'd discovered they had more of a problem than they knew. If this was about a casino – and that was far and away the best theory they had – then there were a lot of suspects. The banshees were an incredibly large family, and it wasn't just a branch that had emigrated. It was most of them. And they weren't just in Hong Kong either. They had casinos in Hong Kong and Macau, all of them caught up in organised crime according to speculation – but none of the owners ever prosecuted. Witnesses always changed their minds and recounted their testimony. They also had dozens of family names. Finding out who their particular banshee was, was going to take time. This was one way of shortening that time.

“Come on you.” Yasmin unexpectedly swatted James on the backside causing him to jump, then started leading him up the rest of the stone steps to the front doors. “We don't have all day.”

What was wrong with her? He kept wondering that. In fact he couldn't seem to get a handle on her at all lately. One moment she was blasting him. The next she was laughing with him. Now she was swatting him on the butt as if they were close friends. Maybe he wasn't the only one who needed to see the German. And yet he supposed it was good that she was happy. It was nice to see a smile on her face – even if he couldn't quite figure out what there was to smile about in this place.

At least they weren't actually going to be meeting with any politicians. They might be heading to the office of the Temporary President, but they weren't here to meet with the man. He wasn't there. As everyone who knew anything about politics understood, politicians didn't make policy. They made speeches. It was their advisers, campaign managers and sundry political analysts who made the actual decisions. That was democracy in action. So if the Temporary President had made noises about loosening up gambling regulations, you could bet that he hadn't been the one to come up with the idea. The chances were that the idea had come from his staff. And his staff in turn had got the idea from the banshee.

But they weren't actually clear about the who. There were sixty odd senators that could have been involved and well over a hundred members of the Assembly. And they all had staff. The banshee could have worked her will on any of them – or maybe all of them – they didn't really know the extent of her power. It had just seemed most likely that she would have started at the top. It would be quicker and easier if nothing else.

“Now why don't you do yourself a favour hunter, and leave the talking to me.” Yasmin gave him the hard word as they walked into the lobby.

“You do know that I am the hunter here?”

“Yes.  Didn’t you hear me call you hunter?  Anyhow, you do know that dressed like that you look like a docker? And that, together with your charming manners will get us tossed out of here in five seconds flat. This is anything but your bailiwick.” She grabbed his arm unexpectedly and looped her own through it. “Now smile and pretend that you have some vague idea of what's going on instead of looking mildly demented.”

James would have argued had he been given the chance. But like a mother would a difficult child, she immediately started pulling him along toward the central reception desk. In the end he decided it was easier to simply go along with her rather than make a scene. Besides, he knew she was right. This was not a place he knew much about or felt comfortable in. Especially not when he'd had to leave his guns behind. Yasmin was probably the better person to ask the questions here. But remembering that got suddenly harder when she introduced them to the aide at the desk.

“Mr. and Mrs. Senica to see Mr. Brucknell.” She smiled politely while James tried to choke back his surprise and indignation. Suddenly not only were they married but he had adopted her name? He didn't remember any of that being agreed to! In fact he'd assumed they would be simply using their own names. Why the pretence? And why was he now adopting her name? Why had he let her make the appointment instead of him! But he had to wait until the receptionist was finished with them to find out.

“Do you want to explain?” He asked the question quietly as they were ushered along the lobby to the right office by a young neatly dressed man.

“Oh relax! You should be honoured to carry my name. Consider it a promotion!” She kept pushing him along after their guide, completely oblivious to his protests.

“Oh, and by the way in case you missed it, you're very much in love with your wife. And you married up!”

“I suspected as much!” James gave up and went with it. There seemed to be nothing else to do. Besides, this was one interview he didn't want to do. Give him proper criminals any day. At least they were honest in their dishonesty. Their lies were crude and simple. Direct. Politicians were something else.

She was right. He didn't want to be here. He would much rather have simply hauled this entire nest of political vipers down to his office and started interrogating them properly. The elders might not have been so enamoured of the idea however. Their goal was to stay out of anything that could get them noticed.

James and Yasmin soon found themselves ushered into a suite of offices. In the outer office sat another receptionist – a woman who looked every bit as neatly dressed as any aristocrat. Behind her desk were two heavy oak panel doors leading to the offices. One – presumably the largest and grandest office – was for the Temporary President. But immediately adjoining it was another with his aide's name on it – Harrison Brucknell. The receptionist after taking their names seemed only too happy to open the door for them, make some introductions and guide them in. And the deference she showed her boss was revealing. Brucknell was obviously the real power in the office. The one who did the hiring and firing.

The office was fairly much what James had thought it would be. It looked plush and filled with expensive furniture. The wood was highly polished, the leather suites were top of the line and the carpet pile was thick and luxurious. It looked like every politician's office he'd ever seen on the tv, right down to the huge mahogany desk with the two leather bound chairs facing it. In fact it almost seemed a cliché. But maybe that was what was expected of a politician’s aide who did most of the back room deals. That they fit a certain stereotype. It probably reassured people.

Harrison Brucknell didn't strike James as a particularly impressive specimen of humanity when he came out from behind his desk to greet them. His handshake was polite rather than firm, his smile the same with no real warmth in it. He also didn't look to be in the best of health. But neither did he look like a politician. There was nothing particularly outstanding about the man. Nothing that said he was a wheeler dealer for the rich and powerful.

If anything James would have said he looked like a banker. He looked staid, secure and somewhat boring. He looked like the sort that drove a sensible car and lived in a sensible house and made sure his life insurance was up to date. But he did have one impressive quality about him – he was quick. James noticed it immediately the introductions were made. His eyes flickered over them, assessing them, as he gestured for them to take a seat. It was clear to James that he found things not as he expected. Mostly James suspected, Brucknell found him to be not as he expected. He probably didn't see typical citizens every day and James looked very typical.

“So Mr. and Mrs. Senica, how can I help you?” There was just a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Oh please, call me Yasmin and this is my husband James.” Yasmin managed a smile that outshone the distant sunlight glinting through the window. “And you'll have to forgive James for his manner of dress I'm afraid. He's more comfortable walking the platforms on the oil rigs than the city streets.”

Oil rigs? They were in oil? That came as a surprise. Why hadn't Yasmin told him the cover story first? And why couldn't she have come up with something closer to the truth?  Like that they were simply investigators for whatever organisation seemed most appropriate? That was the normal cover. After all, the Illuminati could provide them with the right credentials easily enough. And if they needed them, they'd even make them legitimate. What was the point in the rest of the charade? Suddenly he was beginning to think that this grand plan of his to place more responsibility in the hands of the others and so please the famned German, was a mistake.

On the other hand the charade did explain her wardrobe. The dress that looked like it had come out of the shops in Milan or Paris. The jewellery around her throat and on her fingers and wrists oozed money. Obviously she'd put some thought into this. But as he took a seat James figured it was easier to just to go along with things and let her speak. As long as they got the answers they wanted.

“So you're in oil?”

“For the moment. But Daddy says we need to diversify. The price of a barrel has been so volatile lately. We need an industry that's more stable. Preferably one we can get in on the ground floor of. And our market boys have been talking about casinos – but not in the established states. They say there's a rumour that with the move to allow private casinos in the state, there might be some shifting in the rules? Relaxing certain regulations relating to them?”

That was of course the rumour. It was why they were here. A couple of years before the senate had passed a bill allowing private casinos to be built and this year they were expecting the first few casino licences to be approved, much to the disapproval of the people. The politicians claimed it was about jobs – thousands of them. The protesters said it was about problem gambling and picking on the vulnerable. They already had a few Indian casinos and some slot machine parlours on race courses. The protesters argued that there was no need to allow for more and potentially cause harm to the community. And James would have said it was all about bribery and corruption.

But that battle was over. Now with private casinos being permitted and licences being granted it was all about the conditions of those licences and the enforcement of the rules.

“There's talk. But there's always talk. Nothing more than that.” Mr. Brucknell wasn't biting. And why would he? If their guess was right then he already had a client willing to pay to build a brand new casino in a prime location – provided the conditions were right.

“Really? Because our guys say it's more than that. That some of the Asians are already planning on moving in. Hong Kong and Macau maybe.”

Had she said too much? James didn't know. But he knew judging by the way Brucknell's face abruptly froze that she had said enough. She'd hit a nerve. Brucknell knew something. He simply didn't think anyone else should know it.

“And how would they have heard that?”

“Well the oil business is multinational. We have our people all over the world. Fingers in a lot of pies. We talk to a lot of people. Governments, business people. And they do hear things.” Yasmin smiled sweetly. “You wouldn't believe what else they heard.”