Now, that was interesting. Money wouldn’t have left that kind of signature. What might have come across the Rift that was more valuable than money or drugs?
On our way back to headquarters, I told Novak, “If you don’t want to work with me, let Whittaker know, and I’ll back your transfer. But if you ever disrespect me in public like that again, I’ll cripple you, and that’s not a threat, it’s a promise.”
He flushed. “I’m sorry. I was trying to be funny, and I realized immediately that it wasn’t. It won’t happen again.”
“You sure you don’t want out?”
“No. I’ll stay if you’ll have me.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t treat me like I’m a porcelain doll. You don’t care about my name.”
I snorted out a laugh. That was the first time anyone from the Hundred praised me for disrespect of their name. “Okay. Case closed. Now, think about what we’re going to tell Whittaker. He’s going to ask if we have a plan.”
He shifted in his seat. “Most people walk on eggshells around me, but I really do care about being a good cop.”
I nodded, a little uncomfortable with his admission.
All I could think of while I drove, parked the car, and rode up the elevator was that someone or something had murdered a major demon as casually as I would swat a fly. We had a real problem on our hands.
“Well?” DC Whittaker asked when we walked into his office.
“Looks like a gang war to me,” I said. “And someone is strong enough to take on a major demon.”
We gave him our report, including our theories, then waited while he leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
When he finally did say something, it was a question. “Drugs and human women?”
“Girls, really,” I said. “They were killed, but they weren’t brutalized or shot.”
“Check with Dolin over in Vice. See what they’ve put together since you busted Fredo. Then check with Collins over there about the drugs. See if you turn up any names in common. Those idiots in Vice wander around in their silos and don’t talk to each other.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Novak blush. “Demons working with vamps and humans is a little unusual, wouldn’t you say?”
“A little,” I responded, “but the end users are humans, right?”
To my surprise, Novak spoke up. “Not entirely. For astropene, yes, but vamps will feed rasheen and cocaine to their blood slaves. Not the same slave, but two different ones. Rasheen changes once a human has metabolized it. The vamp feeds off a human high on cocaine, then feeds off a human high on rasheen. The vamp can’t overdose, and the combination of the two drugs’ metabolites gets the vamps safely high.”
“How in the hell do people figure that kind of thing out?” Whittaker asked.
“Why are almost all races determined to alter their state of mental being?” Novak asked in return. “Only thing I could ever figure out is that their reality is either incredibly boring or so terrible they feel the need to escape.”
I chuckled. “Out of curiosity, what’s your drug of choice?”
“Weed, but I rarely use it,” he answered. “Usually only when I have to deal with my family.”
Whittaker snorted. “Knowing your father, I can understand that. Well, any questions? No? Get out of here.”
“Yeah, I have one,” I said. “How many demon lords are there in the Mid-Atlantic region?”
“One,” Whittaker answered. “Only one on the entire east coast. They don’t get along with each other. There are only three in all of North America, as far as I know.”
Chapter 20
Lieutenant Joseph Dolin looked like someone’s favorite uncle. Good-looking, always with a conspiratorial grin on his face, and a bag of candied nuts that he offered to everyone he met. We wandered into his office, the walls covered with pictures of women and children who had either been rescued or killed. I introduced him and Novak.
“I don’t know if you heard about the massacre up in the Pimlico area this morning,” I said, “but there were two girls there who I’m sure were trafficked.”
Dolin nodded. “I heard about it. Lots of drugs and Rifters.”
I sat on the corner of his desk. “Thought I’d come by and see what you’ve come up with from Fredo.”
He pursed his mouth, then leaned forward, and typed on his computer. A screen on the wall lit up, showing a picture with a lot of little boxes and lines between them. The box in the center was labeled ‘Fredo.’ A few of the boxes had a red X over them.
“This is a small part of a chart I’ve been working on for seven years,” Dolin said. “If you want a list of all the names, I can send it to you, but it would be easier if you gave me your names and I searched for connections. There are thousands of people of all races implicated in this thing. Many victims don’t even fit the stereotypical image of people who are trafficked. A lot of domestic workers and other types of slaves.”
“That’s fine,” I replied. “I’ll send you the names as soon as I have them. The demons weren’t carrying identification for some reason.”
Dolin laughed.
I was intrigued by what he had said, though. Seven years of painstakingly putting the connections together. “Joe, your pretty pictures wouldn’t happen to have a section that includes people in the Families, would it?”
His eyes widened even as he glanced toward my partner.
To his credit, Mychel said, “I’m a cop. Unless any of the connections touch on Novak or Cappellino, I’m good. If they do, then I should probably step out of the room.”
I knew that his mother was a member of the Cappellino family. To my relief, Dolin shook his head.
“Nope, as far as I know, your
