“Kratz killed the guy to get this painting, Italian,seventeenth century, worth a million bucks or so, charming ‘classical’ scene ofa bunch of little boy and girl satyrs playing in a sunlit forest stream. Naked.And if you looked real close in the shadows, some of the play wasn’t all thatinnocent. Kratz made sure the whole world knew the guy hadn’t bought thepainting for its artistic value.”
A boarding announcement echoed down the corridor, life goingon, people bustling past and yammering at their cell phones and corrallingchildren and looking harassed. I’ve always hated airports, hated flying — youtry flying fat and see how you like it. Setting a Kratz scene inside all thatpsychic baggage didn’t improve the atmosphere. I wondered how many travelerswould ever realize that they’d walked within a few yards of a messy corpse.
“Thinking on my feet here, about those papers. I can’t readRussian or Bulgarian or whatever. One thing I did see, flipping through the copies, was a bunch of RussianOrthodox imagery including an icon with a Slavic cross and some kind ofpatriarch with a halo around his head. As a general rule, anyone using Cyrillicletters and that cross ain’t gonna be happy finding out that their super-secretcourier was a wannabe storm-trooper.”
I paused, chasing down forked paths in my mind. “Either that,or they are Nazis and wouldn’t wantto advertise whatever stuff they’re sending. Be interesting to find out which.The translations may give you a lead on that. Anyway, that’s Kratz all over,tossing a couple of weasels into the henhouse and slamming the door. My guess,going by his twisty brain, I’d vote for the first option — some folks in theformer Soviet bloc are gonna be really pissed to find they’ve handed secretsover to a guy who worshiped the SS.”
Cash paused, staring up at a monitor as if checking on ourflight status. “Why use a courier? Why smuggle it at all? Why not mail thestuff, email, or even fax it?”
I shrugged. “I’d guess that they know, or suspect, phone tapsand that their mail will be read by unclean eyes at one end of the trail or theother. Or maybe stuff just vanishes on them. Since those were copies ratherthan originals, probably they’re worried more about some nosy-poking snoops.Which, judging by Wolfgang, wasn’t paranoia.”
I glanced up at a silvery plastic hemisphere poking throughthe acoustic ceiling. “Speaking of snoops, any chance you’ve found some nicemug-shots on those security videos? I’d like to have some idea of what faceKratz shows the world these days.”
Cash wrinkled her nose. “We’ve got computer boys runningthrough the tapes. Just to really make your day, though, the transit authoritydidn’t want to pay extra for a few miles of secure system. Last I heard, all we’dfound was some static patches we could use for timing the hit.”
I looked away from the camera, letting my other senses staybehind and poke around. No, it wasn’t shielded. With a good system, I wouldn’teven be able to sense what hid inside the one-way mirror of that plastic. Thisone, I could juggle pixels while it pointed my way, or just cause a voltagespike to fry the amplifiers and be done with it. They’d gone with low-bidderelectronics, a couple of steps better than dummy cameras but still more forlooks than serious business. Not monitored in real-time, either, apparently.
“We done here?”
Cash nodded, turning down the concourse toward baggage claimand exits and that row of flashing cruisers and ME meat wagons waiting by thecurb. “Yeah, I guess. You’ve pinned another position fix on your map. I’ll getthe reports to you, soon as they come in. With that cross at the other hit, youthink this is related? Besides being a courier and Kratz, I mean?”
I didn’t know, and showed it. “The old-model Kratz didn’t do patterns. Too smart for that. It’sone reason why we took so long to nail him. Only connecting links were hissignature, this sick thing he had with artisticmurder, and the money angle. He wouldn’t hit for less than a hundred thou. Bereal nice if Bycheck would tell us what John Doe was carrying.”
I shook my head. “But something smells wrong here. He neverdid two hits this close together. He’d kill, get his kicks and the money, andvanish. We wouldn’t hear from him again for six months or a year. Even thinkingwe didn’t find all his victims, two in less than a month makes a major change.Maybe that’s why he did it? Breaking even that non-pattern? Or just laughing atme, kicking sand in my face?”
Yeah, that’s stretching things, giving myself airs. As ifKratz was dueling with me personally, like Holmes versus Moriarty. Of course,his trying to kill me did up thestakes a bit.
We passed the cop guarding the Gates of Hell, AKA the keycardlounge, and headed back toward the terminal. It would be a while before thatroom generated any more revenue for the transit authority. If Kratz’s magic letthem clean the blood letters off the wall, that is. Might have made them apermanent exhibit. He was like that.
We headed back through the TSA checkpoint, headed out of thesecurity zone — no need for badges to justify iron tucked away under ourarmpits — back to the Starbucks and Legal Seafood and Waldenbooks in theterminal. Cash grabbed my wrist, blurted “Whups!” and spun into an embrace thatburied her face against my cheek and ear.
“Bycheck. Fog us and kiss me.”
I blinked and obliged, spreading that “Don’t notice me” fieldthat’s about the first thing a beginning wizard learns, not far enough orstrong enough that the vibrations and my signature would catch his attention.We became another loving couple, someone just back from a trip and someone elsesaying “Welcome home!” in the most sincere way usable in public.
Cash squashed against me, lean and hard and almost exactly myheight. I’m not used to feeling ribs and muscles when I hug a woman. Or a 9mmautomatic, for that matter, those things hurtwhen someone hugs you as tight as she did. And that kiss seemed a little moreenthusiastic than justified by simple camouflage.
She pulled away, checked on Bycheck, sighed, and came back formore.
