More open manholes and more Drifters crawling out. Being a salaryman bad guy must really suck. Lex Luthor and Dr. Doom get to come up with the crazy schemes, but then some poor schmuck has to actually corral the giant radioactive ants or put exactly the right amount of poison in exactly the right water treatment plants at exactly the right time. And an entry-level bad guy probably doesn’t even have a helicopter. He has to drive the poison from treatment plant to treatment plant on city streets in his second-hand Civic, hoping there isn’t a flock of ducklings or a broken-down minivan blocking traffic. Case in point is the loser up ahead prying up another damn manhole with a crowbar. Does he have gloves? Is he wearing a lower-back brace like warehouse workers use? Are there OSHA rules for supervillain henchmen? “Lift with your legs, not your back. Didn’t Dr. No teach you anything?” He looks up and starts running. Right into a wall of wandering Drifters. I catch up in about two seconds. He swings the crowbar a couple of times. I catch it on the third swing, tear it out of his hands, and jam it through the skull of the nearest zed. Yeah, it’s a little showy, but a move like that can save you from having to waste time making a lot of boring threats. He went down on his ass when I snatched the crowbar, so I grab his jacket and haul him to his feet. It takes me a minute to figure out what exactly I’m looking at. There’s a face superimposed over another face, like two ghost faces stacked on top of each other. The angel’s eyes take over and separate his real face from the glamour. I recognize one immediately. The other takes a few more seconds. I smile, but the Thug Number Six doesn’t smile back. “Nice night, fake Rainier. How’s it hanging?” He doesn’t say anything. His hands fumble at his waist. He has another weapon. I let him look for it. “Is this how you got the Drifters into Cabal’s place or did you walk them in yourself? I know you were in there because he put on that glamour you’re wearing right now. I couldn’t see it back at the party, but now I can see both of your faces.” He finally pulls his backup weapon. A cute little Sig Sauer P232. It’s a compact, toylike pistol that will blow substantial holes in you at close range. I let him get it out of his belt, but catch his arm as he’s swinging it up to shoot. Fake Rainier is a big bundle of twitchy fear, so when I grab him, the gun goes off and blows a hole in his foot. He screams and I let him fall. I take the Sig and put it in my pocket. I look around and spot a Drifter bouncing off a chain-link fence across the street. He looks brand-new, like he was bitten and turned tonight. I go over and rip off his shirt and take it back to Rainier. He’s on the ground rocking back and forth, whimpering and clutching his foot in both hands. “Relax. You’ve got another foot.” He says, “Fuck you,” through gritted teeth. “You might want to watch your tone with the man who can bandage you or let you bleed to death.” “Get away from me. Do you know who my family is?” “Yeah, and the Geistwalds aren’t your real family, are they, Aki?” He blinks at me. His hands open and close around his bleeding foot. I tear the Drifter’s shirt into strips and wrap them around the wound. “I remember you at Bamboo House of Dolls. You came over to the bar like a snotty little prince and ordered me to do my portaling trick. When I told you to go away and you wouldn’t, there was almost a scene. But it was all an act, wasn’t it, Aki? Your mom was there hoping to find someone who could track down her lost boy. Someone told you she was going to be there. You weren’t in the bar to impress your friends or get under my skin. You were testing your glamour. You knew if you could walk by your own mother without her recognizing you, you were home free. No one would ever see anything but Rainier Geistwald.” “Keep talking, asshole. You’re dead.” I pull the bandage tight and make him wince. “If Cabal did such a good job with the glamour, why did you have to kill him?” “Have you smelled the guy? Besides, I never killed anyone.” “Right. You just opened the door and let your friends do the dirty work. I bet you didn’t even go inside to watch the fun. You stayed by the door until the screaming stopped and then shooed your friends back out. One
Вы читаете Kill the Dead
