Chimera (15 page)

I took a break from my story at that point. The shortest day of the year had come to an end; the longest night was beginning. I turned on a lamp, then wished I had an excuse to turn it off to escape Zoe's gaze. She said, "What happened next?"

"Rita had a miscarriage."

"I'm sorry."

"It was probably for the best. We thought our marriage was rocky because UNSEC kept me away from home. Being home for a few months proved we were wrong. We got divorced. I kicked around for a while, traveling mostly. Blowing my savings was fun."

"Why a detective agency?"

"Flexible hours, low overhead. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Not now?"

I shrugged. "I thought I'd get rich doing corporate jobs. But corporations give their business to other corporations. The only things I was offered involved drug tests or union busting. I wasn't interested."

"Mmm."

"That's not a question."

"Your policy's not to work for critters."

I wasn't expecting that one. I said, "That's not a question either."

"Why?"

"'Cause I don't like to."

"You tried it?"

"No. I'd be awfully conspicuous tailing a cheating critter from a critter bar to a critter hotel. Besides, not many critters can afford me."

"Sounds like rationalizing."

"Question."

"Huh?"

"Good enough. We're rationalizing beings. What do you expect me to do?"

"If you felt guilty about Long Island, I'd think you'd take jobs from critters."

"If I was a saint."

"You live around critters."

"It's the cheapest halfway-decent neighborhood in L.A."

"Eddie says you said once you couldn't stand the idea of letting another critter down."

"Eddie was drunker than me. Don't put money on what he remembers."

"You're working for me."

"Not because I owe the whole damn chimera species. Don't read too much into Long Island. I may not like what happened there, but sometimes the innocent just fucking die."

"You don't have to get mad."

"I don't have to get analyzed, either."

"Okay."

"Okay." I breathed deeply, realized I was doing that, and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Too bad. You have to eat something, 'cause I am. Can you stay awake for three minutes?"

She nodded.

I wanted to apologize, but I wasn't sure why. Deciding that a little time by myself would be good for both of us, I clicked the HV on loud and found a comedy channel. She laughed at some poor bastard running out of a lake with his pants full of fish, which I took as a bad sign for her sense of humor but a good sign for her wakefulness.

I went to the kitchen and made sandwiches, summer sausage for her and Eddie, avocado and barbecue sauce for me. Eddie was at his computer when I looked in his bedroom. He said, "How is she?"

"Still awake." I handed him a sandwich.

"Thanks, Captain. She seems all right, for a critter."

"She's annoying," I said. "Mind if I check my e-mail?"

He and I ate our sandwiches while I logged on. The ex had sent me a joke about men that she thought was funny. More importantly, the mysterious Mycroft had not answered my inquiry about Gold's death.

When I returned to the guest room, Zoe's eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow. I set her sandwich aside, checked her pulse, then shook her. "C'mon, Zoe. Fight it!" I slapped her cheeks, hard enough to bring a tinge of red to them. Still, her eyes didn't open.

I sat beside her and smoothed her hair. "Just fight—" I let the sentence die. She couldn't hear me. She needed a doctor or a miracle. A hospital would record her as an admittee, which would be the same as handing her to the cops. Even if she lucked into a cop who wasn't under the influence of Gold's killers, any place that cops could put her, a copbot could get to.

The doorbell rang. Eddie passed by, saying, "Must be the guys for the van." He looked at Zoe. "She doesn't look so good."

"You know any doctors who don't ask questions?"

"I could check around. They don't come cheap."

"See what you can find."

"Okay." The bell rang again. "Coming!" Eddie yelled, and headed for the front.

I pulled a pack of cigarettes from my jacket, shook one out, put it to my lips, pulled out my pocket knife, snapped on the lighter, then looked at Zoe doing the Sleeping Beauty thing and said, "Hell." I put the cig back in the pack, crushed it, and threw it in the trash. My offering to Nicotina, Bitch Goddess of Tobacco. "Hang in there, cat."

Eddie reappeared at the door with a grim expression.

I said, "Who was it?"

He stumbled forward, shoved by a dogman with a big Colt in his fist. It took me a moment to recognize Bruno outside of Wonderland. His big black-and-white orca partner, similarly armed, came in after him.

Eddie said, "Sorry, Captain."

Arthur followed his pet chimeras inside and grinned. "Hey, Max. If you had more friends, you'd be harder to find."

"If it's friends that give you away, you could hide forever, Arthur."

The orca hit me in the stomach. I doubled over, unable to breathe. It was worth it.

Arthur said, "Your loan's going to be paid back with interest, Max. We can be pals again." I managed to straighten up. He said, "Your pistol. Now."

The orca held out his hand for the SIG. I hesitated.

Arthur said, "Be good, and Eddie stays home with his skull intact."

I jerked a thumb at Zoe. "What about her?"

"She's the payment for your loan. You can carry her." When I didn't move, Arthur added, "Someone wants to talk with you two. Far as I know, you give the right answers, and everyone walks away happy."

"That's not exactly reassuring."

"Max, Max, Max. I'm a practical guy. If this someone wanted you dead, I wouldn't be debating with you. But I realize you've got your pride. If you'd rather have Rashid rough you up first, maybe break an arm or two—"

The orca showed me his gleaming teeth.

"That's thoughtful, Arthur." I held my arm out wide and opened the Pocket. The SIG hurtled into my hand. "But not necessary." I passed the SIG to Rashid. He tucked his own pistol into his shoulder holster and kept mine in his huge paw.

I lifted Zoe in both arms and went to the door. Eddie watched like he was about to cry. I can't say I felt better. He said, "Captain—"

"Wasn't your fault, Eddie. Forget we were ever here."

Arthur grinned. "Well, Max. Hanging out with that cat has raised your I.Q."

Chapter Nine

The air smelled of wood smoke—usually a luxury in L.A., but this night was cool enough to justify it. In the driveway, under a fat silver moon, sat a fat silver Mercedes. The silhouettes of a few palm trees against the sky made it look like it was parked there for an ad, but the boxy little houses of Mission Hills would need to be digitally replaced with French chateaus or beach-front bungalows, and the director would insist on actors a lot prettier than Arthur and his beastie boys.

Arthur clicked the remote; the Mercedes's doors sprang open. Rashid said, "In back." His voice may've been high-pitched, but it did not inspire debate.

I slid Zoe onto the back seat, then got in beside her and let her head rest on my shoulder. I was getting used to her scent of shampoo and cat fur. Rashid closed the door. As he went to the front passenger's seat, Arthur took the driver's and Bruno sat in back, beside Zoe.

I said, "Are we there yet?"

Arthur said, "Don't push it, Max." He tapped in the destination, and the car pulled away. I found his use of the keypad a little reassuring. If he was sure we would be killed after his "someone" talked with us, he wouldn't have cared whether I overheard our destination.

As we headed for the 405, Zoe drooled on my shoulder. I looked at Rashid, whose only response was to waggle my SIG at me. I said, "She needs a doctor."

Arthur said, "They can get her one."

"Who're we going to see?"

"Someone who isn't paying me to answer your questions."

No one spoke again until we were on the tollway heading west. When the car hit a particularly noticeable bump, I looked at Rashid. He grinned back at me. I said, "Man, with these potholes, I hope you left the safety on."

As he glanced down at the SIG in his hand, I reached toward him and opened the Pocket, sucking the SIG from his grip into mine. The next things happened nearly simultaneously: Rashid grabbed for his Colt in its shoulder holster, Bruno turned in his seat and brought his pistol up toward me, and I jammed the SIG's barrel in the back of Arthur's fleshy neck. I said, "Pull over. Now."

Arthur said, "Bruno, kill the cat."

Bruno shifted his aim toward Zoe.

I told him, "Go ahead. Then Arthur's head goes boom. Nobody's betting otherwise. But I'll take odds I can also put a shot in your face before you or Charley the Tuna can stop me. Doesn't that sound like easy money, Bowser?"

Bruno looked at his boss for advice. Arthur said, "Don't."

I poked him with the SIG just as the Mercedes turned east onto the Ventura Tollway. "Pull onto the shoulder. Hold it at five miles an hour."

Arthur switched the car to manual and pulled over. I said, "Unlock the doors." The door locks clicked open. I said, "Tell Charley and Bowser to put their guns and phones on the floor. Any sudden moves will make things very noisy and messy in here."

Arthur nodded. "You heard him."

The two chimeras put down pistols and cell phones quite nicely. I said, "Open their doors."

Arthur touched the controls. The side doors sprang open.

I said, "It's been fun, boys. Write if you find work." When they didn't take the hint, I poked Arthur with the SIG for emphasis. "What do you think Arthur would prefer, having you jump or a closed casket funeral?"

Rashid said, "We jump?"

"That's where my money is. Am I right, Arthur?"

"Jump," he agreed.

The chimeras leaped out and rolled onto grassy shoulder. I said, "Close the doors."

Arthur tapped the door button.

I said, "Who's offering money for us?" When he didn't answer, I added, "Arthur, I have the gun. For the sake of your pride, should I put a shot through your shoulder?"

"Kay. Django Kay."

"Who is?"

"He runs most of the east Valley."

"Gambling?"

"Primarily. He's a businessman, like me."

"And he's got a business offer for us?"

"I didn't ask."

"Where were you taking us?"

"The Parrot, in Burbank."

"Where's Kay live?"

"He's got a penthouse there."

"At the Parrot."

"Yeah."

"Okay. Pass me your pistol and phone." When he obeyed, I said, "Now put the car back in auto and jump."

Arthur glanced back at me. "It'll speed up the second I—"

"Then you better jump fast."

Arthur opened the passenger door, then hit the autopilot. He leaped out the passenger side as the car moved from the shoulder to merge with the traffic. Watching him land through the rear window, I uttered a sympathetic, "Ouch." As he stood, I hoped his suit was in at least as bad a shape as mine.

Zoe's ragged breathing told me what to do next. I climbed into the front seat, put the car in manual, exited at Van Nuys Blvd., and parked at the first space I saw. I hated taking time to crawl under the Mercedes and remove its locators, but I saw no choice. If Arthur was lucky, someone had stopped for him and he was calling in a carjacking. For all I knew, the Mercedes may've already begun broadcasting its location. If I was stupid enough to put it back into automatic, it might take us straight to the nearest police station; we definitely would not pass go or collect two hundred dollars.

The locators were harder to find than on the police van, since all I had to hunt them with was the light on my pocket knife, but I found them and cut them away. Then I drove as fast as I dared to the nearest hospital. Sometimes you have to prioritize. Keeping the client alive goes ahead of keeping the client safe.

I doubt it took three minutes to get to Sherman Oaks General. I squealed into the nearest parking space and jumped out of the driver's side. Zoe's breathing was worse. I grabbed her up from the back seat and ran into the emergency room. I don't remember how busy it was—I remember brushing by a few people on my way to the admitting desk, where a young male Hispanic nurse and an older female Asian doctor spoke together.

The nurse glanced at me, then saw Zoe. "What happened?"

"She's overdosed on tranquilizers."

The nurse asked, "How long has she been unconscious?" as they both came around the counter.

Before I could answer, the doctor halted, looking from Zoe's forehead tat to me. "We don't treat critters."

"The biology's not that different—"

"We only treat humans here."

"She's dying!"

The nurse said, "There's a chimera clinic on the north side of Crittertown that's open twenty-four hours."

"She may not live long enough to get there."

The doctor said, "Then you'd better hurry," and turned away.

The nurse, looking helpless, gave me a card. "Here's the address."

I stared at the departing doctor for a second or two, then realized that those might not have been seconds that Zoe could spare. I rushed her out of the ER.

On my way to the Mercedes, I spotted someone in doctor's whites smoking a cigarette by a door labeled "Employees Only." I put Zoe down in the car and ran to the doctor. "Sorry to interrupt your smoke, Doc—"

He looked up and pointed at the main door. "Admitting's over there." He appeared to be young, earnest, and tired, and even if he was being terse, he wasn't being unpleasant.

I almost felt guilty as the SIG leaped into my hand. "Not tonight."

His cig dropped as his jaw did. I ground the cig under my toe for him and said, "Nasty habit. You don't mind quitting so much if you keep your mind on other things. Give me a hand."

He still stared at me. He was just a kid, probably less than a year out of medical school. I said, "I've got a patient who needs care without being entered in the system. I don't want anyone to suffer, but if I have to, I'll hurt anyone who'd rather let her die than bend a few rules."